Carmageddon

As most of you are aware I'm back at home, living with the parentals, which has its ups and downs, lack of privacy, general nosiness and sharing are but to name a few. On the up side my washing gets done and for the first time in nine years stuff actually gets ironed.

So typically once we've done the get up and get dressed thing we leave for work. Now, I'm talking me and my mam we, not the royal we.

Now a couple of months ago they sold our old reliable Honda Ballade we had for forever in the view of buying something newer for my mam to go to and from work. Sadly, this has not materialised and now we're lurching to work in the mornings in my brothers banged up Uno.

For those of you who don't know what an Uno is here's the link http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fiat_Uno.

My parents bought it in a very good condition from a "one careful lady driver", my then 18 year old brother decided he was going to annex it and the car is now in a state, only one window opens, the driver's seat has had to be welded back in place as brother dearest decided to get rather frisky one night and he and honey fell into the car and snapped the seat in half, the radio only streams one station, the aerial has been snapped off by some vandals (brother tells us), and the cubby hole only opens with much persuasion and crude words.

Apart from that, it goes like the clappers.

In these tough economic times with limited funding for everything apart from new naming of roads and presidential weddings our roads are in a state. There are potholes big enough to swim in were one so inclined and driving in that banger made out of tin sheeting it's like driving a trike over corrugated roofing. If I were lactating I could produce milkshake by the pint - anyhow. Moving on.

Not only do we have potholes to contend with, we live close by a Nursery (for small children not plants), Primary and Secondary schools, and then there's also a convenience store (bloody nuisance actually) not that much further down the road, with delivery lorries poodling along at 3 miles an hour. Driving over Ms Daisy wouldn't be this slow.

With much trepidation I get into the car with my mam, and we're off. Only problem is, due to her constant faffing with her hair we're almost late every morning, given it's only about a 3 minute drive to work at warp speed we're still almost always late.

We're shooting out of the driveway and a bat out of hell starts playing in my head, not 5 seconds into the journey someone else is trying to come up our driveway and she hits the brakes, hard. For the motorsporting aficionados who've tried dragracing:  Stop. It. Immediately!  It's overrated and a danger to society. By society i mean me, wiping my lippy off the windscreen at this point. 

With a cloud of dust and some fishtailing out of the driveway we're off again. Now, mam says the sun is too bright and she can't see (surely that's what the visor is for?!?!?) and we miss the driveway, go straight over the curb and into oncoming traffic.

Blimey she says, where'd they all come from? I keep my now smudged mouth shut but think to myself it's a road mother, cars normally drive on a road.....

Round the corner on 2 wheels with further complaints of it not being her fault as she still can't see.Every single morning we drive through the same two potholes, whether I tell her to swerve or not. She does however swerve for some school going jaywalkers and revs the car like some teenage wastage out on parole for the first time.

What are you doing, I complain? Oh, she says, the hooter doesn't work...

Oh great, now we have to announce our presence to the traffic world with wild revving and hand gestures. Marvelous.

We're still two blocks away from work and it's 07:28am. I start at 07:30. Bang on. Otherwise there's a chance I get court marshalled by the Gestapo.

Oh, i forgot to mention, the passenger side door can't unlock from the inside, so i'm stuck in this tin deathtrap and complete at my danger to society mother's mercy. We come to yet another screeching, fishtail halt at a set of traffic lights. More faffing goes on with her hair in the rear view mirror, the light's gone green ages ago, but there might be a possibility her hair isn't exactly as it was 2.3 minutes ago.

When someone at the back of the traffic line hoots in impatience she glares at them, more revving goes on and we're off with serious cases of whiplash.

One more block to go, I pray to all that's good and holy that there are no more traffic lights, dogs, children, waving pedestrians, or slower motorists.

My joy turned out to be short lived, in the middle of the road is a geriatric bent over lady.  She's dropped the entire contents of her bag in the middle of the road. Now either she's a pharmacy rep on her days when she's not playing bingo or twitching curtains, or she's a pill pusher in her old age.

I'll take the second option, while my mam sees said old biddy scrambling to her all her things back in her carpet bag she swerves wildly for the left (for which there was no need) and we mount the curb. We drive on the sidewalk with two wheels in the road for a good half a block while my mother still stares at said pensioner (poor lady, she mutters).

She looks over to me who's now clutching the dashboard as if my life depends on it (and it does) and raises an eyebrow. Whatever is the matter with you, she implores. Before I could prize my now clawed up hand from the dashboard to explain, she swerves back into the road and we finally come to a standstill outside my place of work.

I need to be forcibly removed from the car by two male members of staff while my mother is frantically waving and revving the engine, fishtailing off to work.

I'm very grateful I've arrived with the contents of my bladder and bowels intact. I think half my handbag is strewn all around the inside of the car as we were flung around......

Here goes...

So, after many moons of deliberation and wringing of the proverbial hands I've decided to take the plunge and write down my natterings for all to see.

Firstly, if other people's angst doesn't appeal to you, you don't laugh at those unfortunate souls who fall down on an icy platform in January, and you don't like sarcasm, redirect your browser now.

For those of you who stuck it out this far, well done, sadly, no prizes or cigars at this point.

So after seven months after my exodus out of London to Africa via Chelmsford life has taken on a new rut, with daily doses of fearing for my life, witnessing public spectacles that are called road works and of course what passes from bureaucracy in this gaff. Tea and lunch times are holier than the sabbath, please do not expect anyone who is a public servant to work past 2 on a Friday, and no Caucasian person will be admitted to the local Chicken Fried place on the 15th of the month.

Then some poor chicken place employee has to stand in middle of the road with a wheely bin to divert traffic to and from the drive thru. Sadly, in Africa, drive thru is still a brand new concept. The driving bit most would get, thru, that's another matter entirely. Why not stay stationary and eat your meal at your leisure, chatting to the window person about more ketchup and napkins, when half the public servants are queuing round the block for their 3 piece meal with pap?

Anyhow, funny thing happened on the way out to lunch today, which has caused quite a bit on discomfort to my lower extremities.I am very fortunate to work in an old converted house, right behind the Magistrate's Court. Beautiful original wooden flooring, wraparound verandah, fabulously landscaped and maintained garden and lawn but, in this part of Alice's wonderland, there are plenty of rabbit holes in disguise. 

While carrying a stack of work back to my illustrious leaders office I had the sense that I'm having an outer body experience,  flying through the air arms & legs flailing much like a doped up squid.  Must've resembled someone trying desperately to audition for Superman when there were no green screens.

See, the floors although fabulous and antique, have been gnawed upon my termites, or lice, or small children.  I'm not quite sure which, and a weakness has been created under some of the floorboards. Muggins here just happened to step on said weakness, the floorboard gave way, my shoe got stuck and i went flying.

Trying to maintain as much dignity as possible, i try not to do a belly flop mid-hallway and instead manage a few more exaggerated steps (like a goose trying to do a water take off) and finally come to a standstill (or lie still, the details are very much unclear) against the beautifully glass stained front door. Twack.

 Note to self, wood floors are overrated.

I now have a patch of skin the size of Australia missing from my chin and i'm reasonably sure i swallowed a filling that rattled loose upon impact.

Now, what's the moral of this story you may ask? Bugger off to lunch on time!