Donkey and Pitch Forks

Today hasn't been a good day.

I leave the house this morning, make an immediate right hand turn out of my gate and the car turns ninenty degrees side ways on the icey roads, I can almost see into my neighbour Gillians front room. I countersteer, square it up and keep driving without even coming to a full and complete stop, so anybody standing outside the shop would have been particularly impressed at the sliding around a corner in a lexus. However, from the drivers point of view it was unexpected and I was bricking it. I don't think I am going to have a good relationship with this car in the snow.

I pass a police car on the way to work which gives me a right funny look and I am forced to drive incredibly slow on the way to work which makes me late. Well, my inability to get out of bed early enough actually makes me late, but this compounded the problem.

I get to work and learn once again that it is not appropriate to lug into peoples conversations and get half a story. Who would of thought that Kay at work was asking for a new pen when she said "Mark gave me one this morning".

I get home from work and Kaye and Eric have arrived to stay with us for the weekend, we hit Dobies for a cup of coffee and I spot take the kids to see the reindeer. I take a snap of the reindeer and Eric without his glasses on, enquires whether or not it has a pitch fork stuck in it's head. Eh NO, those are called Antlers Eric, that happens sometime with reindeers, its sort of a genetic evolution thing and Dobies arent usually in the habit of sticking pitch forks into helpless animals for the public to take photographs of.

Hurrying home to get ready for my team night out, I jump in the shower, hack bits off my face with the razor, get dressed in a hurry and throw on a shirt and a pair of jeans. Kaye has to roll up my sleeves as Connie is away out and I can never get them equal on my own.

Racing out the door, I jump into the Lexus hit reverse and swing the car around in my usual trajectory. Bang.

My initial thought is that I have done a Connie and the gate has blown open, or the bairn has left her bike in the driveway, until I realise that in actual fact there is a large black shape emerging from the hedge and sudden realisation creeps in that it is in fact a black Vauxhall Astra parked in my driveway that doesn't belong to me and isn't usually there.

Nightmare, it's like a sinking in the pit of your stomach when I have to then go into the house and fess up to Eric that I hadn't realised his hire car was in the driveway and that I had skelped it. What's worse is knowing he will rip the pish out me until approxiamately April.

Had I of even noticed it, there was more than ample room to squeeze the car through the gap in question, except I didn't even attempt this maneouver, I skipped straight to the demolition derby stage, do not pass go, do not collect £200, go straight to the short end of Old Kent Road and have a dose of large scratch please.

Although having been in several car accidents over my past nineteen years driving, the last time that I dented one due to my own stupid fault was crashing a mini into a very large Ford Sierra Cosworth when I was seventeen years old, while being destracted my a particularly attractive young lady friend. I am therefore pride dented quite considerably.


I finally make it rather late to my Christmas night out and have a decidedly average meal in Gusto in George Street. Heather and Claire are rather the worse for wear as they have been on the drink since 3pm. Claire has brought the twins, Annabell and Georgina out to play as well. She takes the twins everywhere with her and introduces them personally to the taxi driver, most of the restaraunt and Rob spends a good part of the night trying to take their photograph. We leave the pub and Claire buttons her jacket back up, thankfully hiding Annabell and Georgina. I think that someone may well have a hangover in the morning.

I bail home via Asda and buy T-Cut, and apology plants.