Today started with a nasty case of road rage.
I was a leeetle bit stressed as I was taking Stig and her mate, and TMBK and his girlfriend out for our routine Sunday breakfast. Just packing all those people into the car is like playing Human Jenga. Stig and TMBK traditionally bicker over who gets the passenger seat – but today, Stig was in the car before TMBK had finished scratching his armpits, so that solved that issue; but caused another. TMBK is almost 6 feet tall and his girlfriend is 5’10”. I sit with my seat as far back as it will go, because I can’t get my ‘curves’ behind the steering wheel otherwise. Stig does the same to be annoying. So the two long-legged beasties were folded into the back with Stig’s (mercifully petite) mate, and I drove along to a soundtrack of much grumbling.
Spotting a parallel parking space, I indicated my intention to pull over. It wasn’t a long enough space to drive into, so I had to do the whole ‘pull up next to the car in front, ensuring your wing mirror is level with their windscreen’ business. At this point a loud BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP was heard, emitting from the car behind.
Now anyone who has travelled in my car will tell you I am a somewhat vocal driver, carrying on a running commentary on the general f**kwitted-ness of all other road users for the duration of any journey. But today, I surpassed myself. Today, I leapt from the car like a ballerina on rocket-fuel, screaming imprecations and waving my fist, informing the beeper that she was a ‘total ****ing ****, a ***, a ***** and a *****, and asking her if perhaps she thought my ****ing indicators were ****ing Christmas lights, flashing purely for her entertainment. A better rant I have rarely produced. It was wasted on her however, as she straightened her headscarf, applied her welly-booted foot to the accelerator pedal of her Volvo and rumbled off. I stood in the road for a while, giving her a Backwards Churchill, and still ranting, until I became aware of sounds of mirth behind me.
TMBK was laughing so hard I thought he might split something. His girlfriend just looked a little stunned. Stig’s mate was sniggering. And Stig herself? She’s fourteen, remember? She was MORTIFIED.