This morning, I am off to Weston-super-Mare in order to fulfil my obligations concerning a recent plethora (well, two…) 0f Speeding letters.
I will set off in plenty of time, partly because I have been told to report to this local outpost of the Cop Shop fifteen minutes early – but mainly because I now know where the Weston Speed Cameras are sited (having been caught by the same bastard device twice!) and feel it would be invidious, embarrassing and ironic in the extreme if I were snapped up by the system yet again and on my way to serve my punishment to boot!
So I shall be crawling down that road like a sloth afflicted by particularly unpleasant haemorrhoids – and will have to just hope that my passport (for identification; I’m not intending to flee the country to avoid the course!), in which I look uncannily like a serial killer, doesn’t result in some kind of more permanent incarceration!
Hideous start to the week! Still, I did the crime – and must now pay with my time! Must just tell you a wonderful, if dark, little snippet: As I drove a friend to Bristol Airport, at half past arsehole yesterday morning – being very careful to stay within the designated 50mph – an especially egregious wanker (or wankerina, as the case may be) came rattling and roaring up behind me, chuffing and snorting like an enraged bull, and, clearly utterly disenchanted with my sedentary pace, screamed past me, on a bend, at around eighty.
Happens all the time!
Meanwhile, if you haven’t already, do read my musings on deserts (written yesterday) – and I shall report on my sobering vehicular experience later (if allowed out, that is!)…