i-want-more

The art of driving

Soundtrack: The Concretes by The Concretes

Music for this blog has been provided by the Herriett Family. Thanks folks for this, and the Loop CDs!

I've just returned from Mid Devon, where I spent most of my time coughing. In between this and eating cake I spent some time visiting my family.

Roll call of people I saw:
Mum;
Sisters Number 1 thru 4;
Nieces Number 1 thru 5 (but no Nephews);
Small Monkeys Number 1 thru 3;
The Last Remaining Brother-In-Law;
Niece Number 1's spouse;
Boyfriends of Nieces Number 2 and 4.
It was great to see them, particularly the newest Monkey, whom is a lovely little boy.

I also visited Georgina, a lady in her mid-90s, whose depression at the onset of Christmas was very moving. Sometimes there just aren't enough cut flowers and sherry in the world to make things right. No matter how irritating the rigmarole of a family Christmas is, it pays to remember that for every person bemoaning spending time with their family, there is another person alone with their memories.

What I mean to talk about here was the art of driving. [This is also the title of a super song by the sometime-excellent Black Box Recorder: 'Boy: We could get the hood down/Throw away those learner plates' Girl: 'You've got the hang of steering/Now try stepping on the brakes'].

I love to drive. I don't think that I'm terrifically good at it, but I'm passable. I'm good at driving on country roads and motorways, but not in towns.

To get to Devon requires a three-hour drive through some of England's finest countryside, in fact the A303 takes you directly past one of this isle's most peculiar tourist attractions, Stonehenge. My journey down was notable for one thing. As I passed Fleet Services, I noticed a candy-pink Subaru approaching at speed up the outside lane. I thought: that's being driven by a blonde woman, possibly a hairdresser. I then felt guilty for making an assumption, but sure enough, it was indeed a big-haired blonde lady. For the next five or ten minutes I watched the way she was driving. Actually, she was hard to miss. I have never seen such horrific tailgating. Pleased that I was comfortably out of her way, she sped into the distance and I forgot about her.

About an hour later I noticed what we used to call a 'Jam Sandwich' in a layby, accompanied by said pink Subaru and said blonde. She was remonstrating with a policeman. It's hard to be inconspicuous in a car that stupid-looking, but particularly if you can't drive the damn thing properly.

On my return journey this evening, I spent some time in a motorway tailback. This is one of the most tiring things you can do when driving: it requires real skills: staying awake, good clutch control. I managed to get through OK. Usually I would have musical accompaniment but our CD player is cocking us around. I'm sure that the absolute sounds of Arthur Lee would have soothed me through the traffic queues much better than my internal jukebox, which appears to have got stuck on a medley of the worst seasonal novelty records ever.

So, I've spoken a bit about family, a bit about driving, now I'd like to send an Xmas message to you all, wherever you are. May your days be merry and bright, and may all your Xmases be puce. See you in a few days.

posted by deafdisco @ 9:45 pm