Friday, July 10, 2009

Driving home

Why is it that when I drive home I still get that tiny pang of excitement? Almost as though I'm going to see him again, when, clearly that's not going to happen. I used to love Friday nights, and I used to get excited about seeing Cliff at the end of each day, for the whole fifteen years I was with him. Hardly seems fair that he had to die, when there are horrid people out there (e.g. people that hurt children and animals) walking about in good health. But that was what fate dealt us, and now I've got to live with it.

My front door still symbolizes relief ... relief that I can come in and let it all out. It's surreal - the way that I now have this ability to operate normally throughout the day, then come home and turn into this stereotypical Italian widow, who weeps and wails until she is spent, every single day.

Today's pang of excitement, which I usually feel in the pit of my stomach was relatively and thankfully short-lived. Because it was replaced with irritation. Irritation with idiotic drivers on the M25*.

WTF do people have to slam on their brakes to look at any or all of the following:

  • broken down vehicles
  • dead birds
  • emergency vehicles
  • people walking on the hard shoulder
  • car wrecks
Isn't there enough misery in their lives? There is in mine, and I do NOT want to look ... so would the morons who slow down, please stop doing that, because I don't want to see mangled metal, or bodies, for that matter. It just makes me mad, and sad, because all I can think of is this. That someone will get a knock on their door today, giving them the worst news of their lives, and their lives will never ever be the same again.
Plus, if I am really honest, I like driving fast. So it pisses me off if I can't.

* For non-UK followers, the M25 is the motorway (freeway) that circles London. It is known to those of us who travel on it daily, as Britain's largest car park. The motorway has three lanes which are roughly populated as follows:

  • Fast Lane - Mercs, BMWs, Audi's, white vans, boy racers
  • Middle Lane - Jags, Rovers, chauffeur-driven expensive cars, coaches and trucks
  • Slow lane - police cars hiding behind trucks, trucks, more trucks, Micra's and little old ladies who think it's alright to have a picnic on the hard shoulder, highway maintenance vehicles, and traffic cones ad infinitum


  1. Like you, I used to LOVE Fridays and the weekends. Saturday was experimental cooking night where we'd pick out a new recipe to try.

    Now all weekends remind me of is that I'm alone and I am finding myself counting the hours until I have something to do OUT of the house.


    PS: love your description of the M25 :)

  2. likewise Lynette ... I NEVER thought I'd hate weekends!! xx