Karen is the person I (and you) have to thank for me starting this whole blogging thingy. Her name had to be the first word on here, to remind me who to blame! Also Izzy, Michele & Nicola. (You know who you are)! I told them I wanted to blog about home cinema, photography and travelling. “No”! They demanded. “You’re too funny, go make people laugh”, they said. Well, I hope they don’t live to regret it that’s all. Just to give you an idea of what to expect, I offer you below, dear reader, a taster of what I do. I don’t mean to make people laugh, it just happens. I called my site “Putting myself down”, as people are always telling me not to. I always reply, “Well, somebody has to”. It’s just that people used to put me down (for no reason other than jealousy I suppose) and I sort of got used to it. Please be gentle with me though, it’s my first time. Well, here it is, hope you like it:
I love roads. I hate & I mean hate with a passion, ring-roads. (Roads that encircle a city, for supposed easy access, for those who don’t know). Or anything like it. Oh but I love dual cabbageways (carriageways) as I call them ‘cos you can go at different speeds in different lanes & overtake & everything, but ring-roads really get on my nerves. “Why”? I hear you ask. Well, because everyone on them, not counting you or me of course, are total & complete utter nutters! The trouble is, they’re two lanes, then they’re one lane, then two again! They shouldn’t say ‘ring-road’ for a start. They should say ‘racetrack’! You know what I mean. Imagine this, there you are, pootling along at about 30-35mph when suddenly, a bloke in a big, powerful car, (you know the ones), pulls up next to you at the lights. They’re always in the right (fast) lane all the time, they live there. “Brrrrrrmmmmm”!!! Goes his gas-guzzling, fuel-injected, V8x8=64, tool-eater (2L) whatever type of motor. Suddenly, you’re no longer in your own city, you’re at the Nurburgring! You stare across at him, he stares back at you, from his slightly bigger, slightly higher car, (so he can look down his nose at you), you look at your dials, ‘now, how many revs have I got?’ you think to yourself, ‘can I take him?’ You press the accelerator, a tinny, little “whum, whum, whum”, comes out of the engine bay. You sit there, in the left lane at the white line, no sorry, I mean on the ‘starting grid’. You slam it in 3rd. Whoopsie! Slam it in 1st. You floor the accelerator, the clutch is whining, the gears are screaming, your bum is itching. The lights change to red ‘n amber, the crowd goes wild. The lights change to green! You let up the clutch! The car races forward, by one whole foot, as the bloody thing stalls! You look across, only to see that ‘Sebastian Hamilton’ is nowhere to be seen, you look off into the distance, only to see him going over a pelican crossing at 90mph, spinning a little-old-lady round in the process.
Thankfully, it’s a quiet Sunday afternoon & no-one else saw you fluff it. You start the car, you pootle up to the roundabout ahead. Of course there’s roadworks & temporary lights, so when you get there, Mr big car-driver is still there & stares at you in the driving mirror. For all his speed, he got nowhere. You follow him along the road, more traffic now, so he can’t get ahead. You both get over the roundabout at the same time. Two lanes merge into one, so you both go at it, he won’t let you in, but you’re determined not to lose again, so neither of you gives an inch. He sounds his horn at you, “HONK!” You sound yours back “peep.” You edge forward just a touch & he backs off, not wanting to scratch his paintwork. Yes! You won! You punch the air, the crowd are on their feet cheering. Half-a-mile further on: Oh no! Another set of lights, another starting grid. You pull up & wait for the inevitable, Mr big man slowly pulls up beside you, grinning from ear to ear. Defeatedly, you switch on your indicator & turn off left down an unknown road, when the lights go green. “Honkity-honk, honk, honk” goes Mr ‘look-at-the-size-of-MY-manhood’ as he disappears off into the sunset. Oh the shame. Now multiply that by about a thousand & that’s any city’s ring-road. They can bring back single-lanes anytime!