What, I ask myself, marks out today from previous days. Not much. The details are a little different, but the essentials stay the same. We were nearly hit by an idiot on a roundabout but I realised he wasn’t going to stop, so I stopped despite having right of way. I was already half way round and could have carried on but there is little good to be had from a situation where you are in the right but have a bent car and an insurance claim.
It barely seemed to register with him as he sped by the front of the car and even the sound of my car horn produced little effect, apart from provoking him into using his own. Not enough brain cells to use his brakes but enough to feel outrage at having it pointed out that he had done wrong. Clearly a child of the 21st century, for they can never be told there is the possibility they may not be in the right.
I hope that when he has the accident he is clearly destined to have he doesn’t injure anyone else. I don’t particularly want him to injure himself either, just give himself a big enough shock to realise drivers have responsibilities. Having said that, if he did injure himself, I wouldn’t particularly mind, as a little less vigilance on my part would have seen him smash into Julia’s door. If only we had the ability to live our days over again.
In the alternative universe I would be driving a tank, and I wouldn’t stop for him.
Of course, in a really alternative universe, I wouldn’t be driving Julia to work at 8.30
Another unusual thing that happened today is that I made a list of things I must do, and actually made a start on doing some of them. I am, for instance, writing this post instead of snoozing in front of TV. It’s not going to change the world, but it is a start . . .
The featured image is a sweetheart brooch of the Army Gymnastic Staff. It is probably from the Great War, which was when sweethearts became popular. It is 1919 at the latest, as they changed the name to Army Physical Training Staff in 1919, a name it kept until 1940.
The other pictures are a sweetheart of the Royal Army Veterinary Corps, Carved in mother of pearl, probably in Palestine. It dates from between 1919, when they adopted the “Royal” and the centaur badge, and 1952, when they changed the crown.
I added these to my collection last week.
Regarding your close call, you might like the lyrics to this song by Geoff Bartley. 🙂
“Maybe they’re immune to death” – love it!
I’ve been ranting all day about the number of drivers who have misused the horn. It is a shame you felt you had to allow someone to block your right of way – if only there was some way stopping this behaviour.
On a completely different note, last time I came onto WP you had been writing about teasels. I didn’t recall seeing one in full bloom but today finally I’ve seen their purple flowers. I’ve even brought one home to put in a vase.
I may have told you that in the early 1960s I watched a German management high flyer placed in my Mobil Shipping Company office march straight over a zebra crossing beneath our building outside Waterloo Station. When I told him he was likely to be run over when doing that, he replied “It will be their fault”
That’s alright then, just as long as he liked hospital food. 🙂 I don’t recall the story – I always forget you had another career before social work.
We’ve all had close calls like that. Always scary. On a brighter note… those little brooches are sweet.
Yes, and they must have some interesting stories behind them.
“there is little good to be had from a situation where you are in the right but have a bent car and an insurance claim.” … He was Right, Dead Right, as he sailed along
But he’s just as dead as if he’d been wrong” . A cautionary tale from my youth.
Congratulations on actually doing something on your to do list. What next? Ruling the world?
I’m not sure the world is worth the hassle. I will settle for sorting out my corner of the world, and trying to remember to tick something else off the list tomorrow.
Meanwhile, I thought your rhyme sounded like Belloc, but was wrong.
“Here lies the body of William Jay,
who died maintaining his right of way.
He was right as he sped along—
but he’s just as dead as if he’d been wrong.”
“a little less vigilance on my part would have seen him smash into Julia’s door. If only we had the ability to live our days over again.” LOL For Julia’s sake, I must ask if you really mean this. Surely you don’t mean you would be less vigilant next time?
No, you need to read the next line too. I may alter the line spacing. The bit about driving a tank. 🙂