London driving

Frankly, I'm not keen. I am fine on the motorway,but when I get into London three words keep playing over in my head - 'Swiss Cottage Roundabout'. I know that the way I come into London it is an unavoidable road junction, but oh god, it is so scary. Reidski having spotted I am a wimp in this situation (Cries of 'Oh my bloody god!' mixed with the occasional scream of terror seem to have given me away on that front.)is kind enough to come and meet me when he can before Swiss Cottage so that he can demonstrate his London Driver Credentials, and get us through that madness in one piece. After that, if he is happy to carry on driving I am not going to argue, especially as people are so incredibly impatient in London. Today he got hooted to hurry up when a light turned green as he took approximately half a second to put the car into gear. So anyway, thanks to Katy Newton for this inspirational tale of how to deal with ignorant road users, which I look forward to putting into practice when next in London traffic.

Except would I dare? Last night we went and saw Lets Zep, who are a truly brilliant tribute band. According to the posters at least, Robert Plant said of them, 'I walked into the concert hall and saw myself'. They were extraordinarily good although why someone who can play guitar like the Jimmy Page look-a-like can is not in his own band is just a mystery. Best bit of evening was watching Reidski's lad and his mate head banging away. Worst bit was getting to meet the lad's mum, also known as Reidski's ex, by a sheer piece of malevolent misfortune on the tube train on the way there. Not that she wasn't very nice, as she certainly was, but quite frankly one could have done with a bit of preparedness for such a first meeting to try and avoid the becoming a tongue tied gibbering idiot scenario that did in the event occur.

Back to the would I dare question.

As we left the concert a bloke some yards in front of us saw fit to throw a glass bottle over his head and it smashed into pieces. Luckily no one was hurt by the flying glass, but luck was the only thing that prevented that. Reidski told the twat in language that he would understand just exactly what he thought of him, and I found myself screaming at him that 'There are kids back here you moron.' Or words to that effect. And I was simultaneously advancing towards him to tell him in a more up close and personal way what I thought of his stupidity when I heard Reidski caution against it and I stopped. I suddenly realised that confronting a drunk who thinks nothing of throwing a glass bottle around might not be the wisest thing I had ever done.

So thinking about it, the next time I get hooted at by a little old lady in a 1975 Ford Capri Ghia, I will definitely 'have a word' Katy style. On second thoughts, I can see the headlines now -'Police hunt Septenarian Road Rage Killer'so maybe I just have to accept I am truly and deeply a wimp, and 'Get Out Of The F*$$£|^G Way.'