I'm beginning to suspect that there's some kind of strange magnetic field around the Bedford area that causes people's indicator lights to fail.
Through some miracle, however, it seems to leave brake lights intact.
Although, at night it also strikes the occasional set of headlights.
Exactly how bloomin' difficult is it to get in the correct lane when using roundabouts?
You see, I thought that it was quite straight-forward, but – having experienced yet another near-miss this morning with some numpty or another – you'd think it was bloody rocket science!
It isn't even as if there aren't massive signs making it more than abundantly plain exactly whereabouts you should be sticking your car.
Lane discipline, people, please!
End of rant.
"When I need to rummage around and find something in my handbag, what I like to do is stand right in front of important doorways, so that nobody can get through."
Okay, so perhaps that wasn't quite what she was thinking this afternoon, but I'm sure I'm pretty close.
Possibly she was also thinking that doing all of this whilst wearing a bizarre pink trouser suit would somehow enable her to do this with a little more finesse.
You know, I spent over six hours on the road over the weekend during my little excursion to Liverpool, and I swear that nobody tailgated me until the final stretch of the M1 on my journey home.
Technically, there was some woman in a white hatchback who was right up my arse on the M6, whilst chatting on her mobile, but, even then, I was over halfway home by that time.
Can it be that people are better drivers the further north you go?
Perhaps I should move. It might do my blood pressure some good.
It's happened at last.
The car behind me this morning finally figured out that the magic button to make the slow car at the front of the queue go faster is hidden in the back of mine.
If he'd been an inch closer, he'd have been able to reach out and press it.
With his nose.
Unfortunately, it would appear that he also passed this knowledge on to the van that was behind me this afternoon.
The bugger.
Why is it that people seem to think that the closer they get to you whilst you're all stationery in traffic, the quicker they'll get to where they're going?
It's as if they seem to think that all those inches will add up and somehow magically shave five minutes off their journey time.
The worst example by far, though, is when you're on a steep incline. Now, even if I didn't have an automatic gearbox in my current car, I am confident about my hill starts; but I certainly don't expect everybody else to be. I've seen people unable to do simple turning manoeuvres without mounting the curb, and people backing into parked cars without even realising they've done it. I've seen people steering jaggedly round roundabouts in the wrong lane and with one hand holding a mobile phone to their ear. (I've seen van drivers park across my drive.) And I've seen men using electric razors whilst driving to work.
But what idiot could possibly think that squeezing right up somebody's arse on a 1 in 14 road is a good idea?
A staggeringly large number, it seems.
As ever, I despair am hopelessly optimistic about all of this.
As I was driving home tonight, doing the usual slalom between the parked cars and dodging the other traffic, a large van in front of me did something I wasn't expecting.
We were both sat behind a parked car, waiting for the oncoming one to get out of our way. The van had his right indicator on, as well he might in that situation.
But, when the road ahead had cleared, instead of pulling out and overtaking the parked car – as I had been expecting – he pulled over to the right, and used the entrance to a bungalow's driveway as a lay by.
Now, I could tell that this was a bit naughty for three reasons:
And did I mention the bit about me being on my way home?
The bit that really got me peeved was when I sounded my horn and he just scuttled forward a few inches as if he thought that I was struggling to pass him. So, not did he show himself to be an inconsiderate arse, he also went on to impress me further by making the immediate assumption that I was some sort of rubbish girly-girl driver who couldn't squeeze her ickle car through an enormous gap.
I stayed put and beeped again. He sodded off eventually.
At last an opportunity for what seems like dozens of car drivers to turn off their fog lights for a change.
Apparently it's OK to go the wrong way up a one-way street provided that you do it in reverse.
I wish I had witnessed this useful tidbit sooner.
