Road rage

[ladyofastolat]

What is it with today? Why does every living thing on this island feel the need to blunder in front of my car? Has my car been hit with an invisibility ray? Has some joker pinned a notice to my car reading, "Free cakes!" or "Bet you can't tag ME!" I was only driving to a small school about ten minutes into the country, and then back through town. As my route took me past a supermarket, I made a very quick trip into it to buy weekend cider. (See Appendix A for cider-related rant.) In that time, the following things blundered in front of me:
- Four bunnies
- Three old ladies meandering with shopping trolleys
- Two pheasants
- One red squirrel
- One baby in a buggy, pushed out by unheeding mother
- One taxi that decided to change lane on a roundabout into the exact place where I was, but he indicated after he'd forced me to do an emergency stop, so that's okay, then.

Luckily, I missed all of them, but the repeated emergency stops now mean that all the Morris sticks and storytelling books in the car are now gathered, snowdrift-like, at the front of the car, and I'm very glad the cider isn't due to be opened until tomorrow, or we'd be looking at a redecorated kitchen. The red squirrel was particularly alarming, since anyone who squashes a red squirrel has to report it to the authorities, and risk being vilified, and hounded off the island.

Appendix A: Said supermarket trip being necessary because our home-made wine has run out, and the local shops don't do any decent cider. I think CAMRA needs to adopt cider, too. Most small shops seem to have a selection of real ales, but their cider is dire.

Comments

[ladyofastolat.livejournal.com]

What if you go back and hit anyone who saw you hit it? Would that, then, be okay? ;-)

[chainmailmaiden]

Yay! More meat for the stew ;-)

[wellinghall.livejournal.com]

Only if it's outside the close season ...

[lil-shepherd.livejournal.com]

Mayhap. But I worked with a bloke whose son continually brought home the roadkill (mainly muntjac deer) that he hit at night while driving along the Essex country roads. He used to hang and butcher them, too. (Shootin' an' fishin' family - plus the huntin' girlfriend, with whom I used to ride.) They always figured what other people didn't know wouldn't hurt them, and it's a shame to waste the meat.