Language Missus!
Aside

At 3.15pm I got a phone call from my driving instructor’s wife to say Pete was sorry but he would be about 10 minutes late. I really appreciated them letting me know as waiting increases my nerviness. The weather was glowering when we set off on the twisty- turny road to Bridgwater and by the time we hit the motorway the visibility had worsened, the rush hour had started and it was raining hard.

I’m beginning to get the hang of roundabouts; using mirrors signalling and getting in the right lane. Pete asked if I was sure I wanted to do the motorway and I said yes, crossing everything in sight – metaphorically. Added confidence has changed my attitude: whereas before it would have been’
“Excuse me everybody – do you mind if I join you? Thank you ever so much.”

Pete told me to get my speed up and wham bam it was-

“Hi boys! I’m coming in! Make way!

The Focus is very nippy and much more responsive than old Bluebell. We were doing about 65mph in the slow lane with a white van some way in front.

Pat “I’m quite happy here, doing this speed.”

Pete “You could over-take him.”

Pat –looking in mirror “But there’s loads of cars in the middle lane.

Pete “Just signal your intention and they’ll make way.”

I started signalling but couldn’t gauge whether the cars coming up were going to hover or not, so bottled out. Still signalling, when it was clear, I started to come out and right behind me a sports cat was practically on top of me.

Pat “SHIT!”

In a nanosecond I was back in the slow lane – heart pumping and shame-faced.

Pat “I’m terribly sorry! He came out of nowhere. I’m so sorry for swearing.”

Pete “He was going too fast. I would have said the same thing.”

Twice after that I managed successful over -takings and noticed at one time I was doing 75 mph. (Heaven knows what everybody else were doing) I’ll have to watch that.

I asked Pete if he had been frightened and he said not really. Did he think the other driver had been and he thought yes but he was going too fast. Off the motorway at last, we drove through Taunton and homeward bound on the A 39, I looked forward to a glass of wine when I got home. Then we got grid-locked; a car had come off the road – into the trees and there were police, a crane and ambulances. By the time we got home we were half an hour late but Pete thought it was worth it to have done all we had done and I agreed. He said I was much more relaxed and I think I have to watch I don’t get too relaxed.

Next week manoeuvring. Lovely!

RARE CREATIVE PERIODS

Aside

I’ve never been much good at making things. My knitting, to help the war effort, always developed holes that had to be darned afterwards and sewing was limited to necessary repairs when the children were little. I had creative periods in pregnancy when I embroidered the midriff of my sons’ nighties and sewed lace round the sleeve edges and satin ribbon round the blankets, and that was it.

About 27 years ago I changed my life and found I had long lonely hours to deal with. I knew attempting anything fine and delicate would be a disaster bur remembered how the whole family used to join in making rugs, to keep out the howling gales from under the doors and decided to make a rug.

I am proud of it – it measures 72” x 45” and sits comfortably in the hall. I was inspired to show it off by John G (see side-bar) showing a beautiful painting of birds, which he did when he was younger. I’d love to stay and chat but I have a date with the M 5. ( a motorway)

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