She drives me insane, that woman.
As I mentioned, I would love to turn into my mother. She’s one of the most fun people I know. At the age of 66, she looks barely into her 50’s, she’s been thrown out of her card group for being too competitive, she’s the best poker player I’ve ever met, she’s learning Italian and Philosophy, she took a helicopter trip from Nice to Monaco, just because she felt like it and I have to book an appointment to speak to her weeks ahead of time because she’s never bloody in.
I spent Saturday night a couple of weeks ago catching up with my correspondence. And knitting.

She also drives like a woman possessed with the spirit of the late Ayrton Senna. Only Senna would have probably been cowering in the front seat of her convertible jeep complaining that she was braking too late.

I on the other hand don’t drive that often so when I do, I’m fairly cautious. Okay, I drive like a typical pensioner, but I’ve never had a crash and I’ve never had a speeding ticket.

I offered to drive to Bury Market the last time I was up North. As mum doesn’t get the chance to be ferried around much (she’s teetotal, thus making her de facto designated driver) she jumped at my offer. On the way back, after I came off the motorway, I got trapped behind a lorry and as the visibility wasn’t great, I chose to hang back and wait till there was a safe place to pass. Mum is getting increasingly twitchy and making noises about “just nip round him, love” and “you could get a bus through there…”

After about 15 minutes of increasingly plaintive mewling from the front seat about my hesitance, I pulled the car over (safely), put the handbrake on and said

“How many points do you have on your license?”

She began to protest. I silenced her with a raised finger and a glare.

“How many?”

“Nine…” she replied.

“And what were they for?”

“Speeding.”

“And how many do I have? That’s right, none. So let’s remember that next time we’re discussing my driving shall we? The subject is now closed.”

She sunk down into the front seat and sulked the rest of the way home.

I’d have bloody well grounded her for her cheek if I could.

Sometimes I’m glad my father isn’t alive to see what I’ve become…
(Rakky (forgot her password) The muffin maverick, Thu 30 Apr 2009, 15:49, Reply)