Daft Driving and Do Old Men Know?

This week I’ve been looking around for incidents of daft driving. What sparked this was on Monday I was driving behind a Citroen Picasso, my iPod was playing as usual, at the time Sean Paul was singing his 2003 hit, ‘Like Glue’. We approached a junction and the Picasso indicated to turn left, I was turning left also. But did the Picasso turn left? No, the driver stopped and proceeded to make a telephone call.  I couldn’t believe anyone would be so silly as to pull over at the junction, surely she, (as it was a female driver), could have gone around the corner and pulled over at a more sensible place.

I went over to my allotment, as having been backwards and forwards to Italy it’s been some what neglected. I have just a handful of things left to harvest. Potatoes, pumpkins and some kale. The weather has been atrocious the past week, this coupled with a bout of ‘Man-Flu’, (that really bad strain only men get) has meant the potatoes will have to wait. I pick some kale and take three pumpkins. I check on my onions that are in the shed, all the large ones that are strung up are fine, they’ve dried nicely, however the mild white Italian ones I have stored in trays have all rotted, well all but one. A valuable lesson learned, string them all up so the air can get around them. 

More daft driving  on the way home from the allotment. Erasure are playing ‘Sometimes’ as I pull into a supermarket. I park and am just about to exit the car, when I watch a lady in her twilight years enter the car park in a small green Honda Civic. Directly opposite the supermarket doors are around 20 vacant parking spaces. The green car driver ignores these and parks directly opposite the doors, a mere 10 yards away. Along with other shoppers I watch astounded as she exits her car and checks all the doors are locked, before walking into the store. Madness!

I come home and after installing the new Alessandra Amorosso album onto my iPod, make spicy chicken and a salad with the last of the salad from the allotment. Alessandra sings ‘ La Mia Storia Con Te’ (My Story With You) and I take a chilled bottle of prosecco from the fridge. Perfect, a little bit of Italian sunshine in the midst of the British October rain.

I go out in the evening, and once again experience another daft driving  incident. This time it’s a male driver, he approaches a zebra crossing where people are waiting to cross. He stops, not to let the people cross, but directly over the black and white lines, as his passenger winds down his window to have a conversation with a youth waiting to cross the road. This is followed by a series of horns being honked, before a hand emerges from the driver’s window with a defiant middle finger raised. My iPod shuffles 80’s band Animotion to the fore and I drive off as they play, ‘Open Door’.

I went into town and encountered yet another daft driving episode., This time i was greeted by a woman driving towards me on the wrong side of the road. She hugged the pavement closely, waved to me as if to say thanks for stopping. I wanted say ‘it’s not politeness that made me stop, but the thought of imminent impact’. She then turned into a driveway of a house I can only assume is her home. Up town I walk around the shops aimlessly, then try some hats on in Primark before having a disappointing meal in Varsity.

Now the meal at Varsity reminds me of something that I was thinking about a few days ago…. Do old men know when they fart?  The reason I ask is because, a day ago I stepped out of a doorway in B&Q to let an elderly couple push past, as they did the man farted loudly. His wife asked,”Was that you, Arthur?” to which he replied in the negative, she then looked at me and said under her breath, “Dirty lad.” Now I’m happy to be referred to as a lad, but not as the fart dealer. I’ll explain why Varsity reminded me of this. As I eat my disappointing meal, there’s an elderly gentleman playing pool with a younger one. The elderly gent is named Reg I am informed via their conversation, the problem is every time Reg bends over to take a shot he farts, and he appears oblivious to this bodily function.

Oh the things you see when you’ve not got a camera. I’m walking through town towards my car, when I notice that another fast food outlet has opened up. I don’t think I’ll be paying them a visit though, for in the window is a sign advertising, ‘DONAR KEBABS’, who and what’s been donated I’m not sure.

I decide to get a new tattoo, and have L’amore é basta (love is enough) etched onto the inside of my left arm. and with tingling arm I switch on the iPod and walk back to my car with Chesney Hawkes singing his hit, ‘The One And Only’

Thursday is dull overcast sort of day so I pull on my coat and with ‘Working My Way Back To You’ by the Detroit Spinners playing call into the petrol station, to fill up Bertie Berlingo.  Now I’m quietly standing at pump 4, with the unleaded pumping into the tank, when next to me at pump 5 an old man gets out of his car and begins to use the pump. Nothing strange about this except that he lets out a loud fart, and not a glimmer of recognition crosses his face.

Daft  driving once again, and this one made me laugh out loud. There’s a lad in his twenties that drives a blue Subaru, you know the kind, blacked out windows and low sills, and an exhaust that makes enough noise to shake the buildings as it drives past. Well lad, (actually for’ lad’ read: Dickhead) is as usual gunning the engine and driving like a lunatic through residential streets, this time he’s passing a school, so there are speed bumps in the road. My iPod shuffles and ‘If This Is Is Love’ by girl group, The Saturdays starts to play, (I like the Yazoo sample). I pull in behind a car to allow speeding Subaru to pass, and wallop, his front sill hits the speed bump. The car bounces, actually bounces and the driver pulls over. His door opens and Snoop Dog at a deafening volume spills out onto the street, and a unhappy lad looks at the front sill, which is now hanging off, the right hand bracket obviously broken.  Hence my laughter.

Saturday arrives, I decide to chill out in preparation for my next big adventure, which begins at 05.00 tomorrow morning.