As I write this, I’m thinking about my own “To Hull and Back” moments. The time I got lost in a rental car in rural Wales, the time my friend and I drove six hours for a burger that was closed. Those trips were failures by any logistical metric, but they’re the ones I remember.
The Trotters teach us that perfection is overrated. The diamonds they smuggled? They ended up being fake anyway. But the memory of that journey—the laughter, the swearing, the shared sandwich—that’s real. And it’s worth far more than any lump of carbon.
So next time your plans go pear-shaped, take a breath. Channel Del Boy. Put on a sheepskin coat (metaphorically), crank up the 1980s pop, and remember: the best stories come from the worst detours. And if you end up in Hull, well, at least you’ll have a tale to tell. Lovely jubbly.
