I am invisible.
Proof of my absolute invisibility was confirmed at 7.35pm today.
I had been suspicious before - the daily, school run, single-track rural lane, near misses as I swerve off-road in my diminutive, I-am-most-definitely-not-a-four-wheel-drive, yellow box-on-wheels while the behemoth yummy-mummy-cars (always black) which are designed to climb Ben Nevis, never deign to put a pristine wheel onto the verge ... they might get muddy for heaven's sake! Do they see me? Ever? Or are their bonnets too high/sunglasses too dark/breast enhancements too extreme? Grrr!
Then proof? - Happy little yellow car taking Eldest along nice wide roads to rail station, unwittingly arrived at the station car-park intersection at 7.35pm - otherwise known as desperate-London-commuters'-dash-for-home time. Clearly, London-commuters are so hell bent on avoiding eye contact with any other commuter on the train that they develop tunnel vision. Which means that when they get into their cars to drive home, they are so tired, hungry, in need of a drink, furious (at noise polluting vermonoid teen who squatted in their carriage all the way from the city and probably earns more than them doing something trendy and interesting in an industry completely alien to their office-anchored businesses) and blind, that the GIVE WAY sign ... Yes!!! I checked - it is still there! ... and the little yellow car with the right of way and signalling to turn right disappear! They don't see either. They plough on. And when I decide I've had enough and start to turn, they nearly hit me. Aargh!
Rant over.
Yellow car survived. Just. For another day.
Hmmm ... wonder if invisibility would work for that just-got-to-hover-on-double-yellows-and-run-into-the-bank-to-get-rid-of-all-my-Sterling moment?
Proof of my absolute invisibility was confirmed at 7.35pm today.
I had been suspicious before - the daily, school run, single-track rural lane, near misses as I swerve off-road in my diminutive, I-am-most-definitely-not-a-four-wheel-drive, yellow box-on-wheels while the behemoth yummy-mummy-cars (always black) which are designed to climb Ben Nevis, never deign to put a pristine wheel onto the verge ... they might get muddy for heaven's sake! Do they see me? Ever? Or are their bonnets too high/sunglasses too dark/breast enhancements too extreme? Grrr!
Then proof? - Happy little yellow car taking Eldest along nice wide roads to rail station, unwittingly arrived at the station car-park intersection at 7.35pm - otherwise known as desperate-London-commuters'-dash-for-home time. Clearly, London-commuters are so hell bent on avoiding eye contact with any other commuter on the train that they develop tunnel vision. Which means that when they get into their cars to drive home, they are so tired, hungry, in need of a drink, furious (at noise polluting vermonoid teen who squatted in their carriage all the way from the city and probably earns more than them doing something trendy and interesting in an industry completely alien to their office-anchored businesses) and blind, that the GIVE WAY sign ... Yes!!! I checked - it is still there! ... and the little yellow car with the right of way and signalling to turn right disappear! They don't see either. They plough on. And when I decide I've had enough and start to turn, they nearly hit me. Aargh!
Rant over.
Yellow car survived. Just. For another day.
Hmmm ... wonder if invisibility would work for that just-got-to-hover-on-double-yellows-and-run-into-the-bank-to-get-rid-of-all-my-Sterling moment?
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