Back when I lived in East London I was somewhat of an, er, aggressive driver. I had a busy, on-the-road job and three bin-lids to ferry about so my natural tendency to be nice to people disappeared as soon as I put the key in my cheap runabout.
Which is why, when sitting in hideous traffic at a notoriously busy Upton Park junction, I edged forward all of half an inch to let the BMW driver trying to get into my lane know I wasn't having it. Nice car, mate but I have places to be too. He waved. Edged an inch himself. Cheeky bugger! I ignored him. The boys were all arms and legs in the back
'Mum! Mum!'
'Shush, boys' I replied 'Mummy's driving and I don't care how nice his car is, this prat is not pushing in'
'But, Muuuum!'
He winked. I rolled my eyes at his total front. Edged another half inch, worked out that I'd finally get across the junction on this lights change - as long as he didn't nip in front.
'Boys! Quiet!' Steely determination steadied my left foot exactly on the biting point of my clutch.
The lights changed, I pulled off in triumph and heard a clunk behind me. Sitting in the traffic on the other side of the lights I glanced in the rear view mirror to see Mr Cheeky BMW driver and the fella in the car behind him pointing at where their bumpers had said hello to each other.
'Hah! If he was concentrating he'd have known that fella behind was too close. See, boys? Having a nice car doesn't make you right all the time'
Babyboy says 'But Mum, that was Ian Wright! And he waved at me!'
No 1 Son says 'And I think that bash was your fault'
They've put a statue there now but I don't think I had anything to do with that.
The only footballer I would know is David Beckham, if that makes you feel any better...
Posted by: Cat | Wednesday, 20 June 2007 at 18:14
Who cares who he was? Well done you for keeping your place!
Posted by: Clare | Monday, 25 June 2007 at 14:51