Arghhh! Things must be bad when I'm sat at my laptop and talking to myself in a Northern accent saying things like "You can go f’ck yourself with your f’cking email registration f’cking eBay!!!!"
Oksana is always admiring my patience and calm - I can’t understand why. Wait ‘til she sees this!
I thought I'd be brave and bid on a 2nd hand wide angle lens for my EOS having missed a great shot from inside Double Arch on holiday without one. But just registering has already wasted over an hour without success and I am ready to kill, well possibly kick furniture. Life is too short to shop around, bargain hunt and bid at auctions I fear. It will be frigging easier to buy a ticket to New York and fly out to buy one there because they are cheaper. Failing that, just shelling out on the Mastercard in a UK shop is a distinct possibility and I think a lot of photography shops sell second hand now anyways - including one in Bournemouth and I never need much of an excuse to go there again.
Or there’s one in Camberley which is closer but the shame, oh the shame! See last time I was there was last year, I was in the middle of a divorce, moving out, the whole shabang and wasn't quite with it. I went to check out a Canon Ixus (before ordering online) and after a delicious burger at zee Burger King (well I can't afford the "Fat Duck" in Bray all the time!) wondered why I couldn't see my car which I'd left parked on the High Street. Then I saw a car like mine just before the crossroads much lower down the street with a brick placed behind the back wheel. Yes I had forgotten to apply the handbrake after parking my beloved Golf GTI Turbo on a hill!!! Thank god for the people who stopped it going any further but where on earth had they found that brick in the middle of town? - bless them a hundred times!!! I can imagine faces as the car rolled down towards the crossroads. I felt such a fool and wondered if anyone was hanging about to see who the twat was.
I think I should add to my blog some other Marta/car disaster stories. It's another area where I am a paradox. I really am a good driver and am told so by men, so I must be - right? I even got told I was a good driver, and this was while exceeding the speed limit just a tad, by Rita's dad who is normally petrified of everyone's driving & could be voted Most Nervous Passenger any month of the year. But occasionally I am a complete woman driver and do the dumbest stuff when distracted or angry! You can see how easily distracted I am - I started off writing about effing eBay. Sometimes I am a complete male driver and do the dumbest stuff like seeing a sign for a hump back bridge and putting my foot down in order to fly over the brow Dukes of Hazard style! Not good for your car or your back. Your life is not a film Marta!
I can also beat any car setting off at the lights but those Beamers with huge engine power normally win the distance. I should add I do this rarely these days, as I become older and wiser. I don’t think you should speed – mainly because other drivers don’t expect you to and cannot react to you doing 110 mph plus. I do think I should give rally driving and banger racing a try though. Also I would love to drive a tank – or was that my mum’s Lada? I remember she bought it new, so proud as the first car she’d ever owned from new. Mark, my brother, got in the back and nudged off the window handle with his knee which flew across and hit mum on the head. It just got worse from there on. Mum’s first driving lesson, she turned left and didn’t unturn the steering wheel thus ending up nose first into a ditch!
Probably the stupidest thing was my first hire car experience at Enterprise in Bournemouth where I drove the Micra off a 3 foot drop and wedged it there.
Just the other day a colleague watched me reverse into a tight spot with one nipple (sorry - old lesbian skills joke I share with Jonathan who once couldn’t change his car tyre and had to be rescued by a lesbian who did it so effortlessly) and the cheeky bastard gave me a 10 out of 10 score hand gesture. Then the same evening while I had two ex-boyfriends in the one thought bubble simultaneously, I drove into the wall as I did the 13 point manoeuvre needed to park in our ‘interesting’ driveway.
But you really shouldn’t mess with women drivers, you know. I hate people driving too close behind me and sometimes brake slightly for the worse culprits to get them to back off. This is fine unless she’s a woman driver with PMT who responds by accelerating and going nuts – thinking of psycho bitch from hell here on the M3. What? – you know her too? Or may be men are worse – (cough) I was once going out with one who got so mad, he actually not only put on the brakes but stopped his car on the motorway. That really is dangerous, stupid and a lesson to all of us to manage our anger. He is the same guy who when in a sports store rushed over saying he found what I needed for my car and held up a baseball bat!
Actually nowadays I kill with kindness and 99% of the time I am Ms Cool as a Cucumber behind the wheel, while others blow off. I think it was me driving Oksana around London that gave her the impression I was a patient person. Don’t you love the feeling when you give way to let someone into the traffic? You should! I think having lived in Bournemouth for three years, it left a bit of ‘love thy fellow driver’ in me except I can’t love a man that drives like a girl. So may be I don’t have the patience of a saint after all.
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