Just when I thought my life was settled and safe, Missy Midriff announces she's saving for a CAR!
They say you never really learn to swear until you learn to drive - but you never really learn to PRAY until your kids learn to drive! I'm convinced that's the truth.
A few of Missy Midriff's (mostly male) friends already own cars. Shiny metal motors with more gadgets than a Boeing 747 … Knobs EVERYWHERE! There's no money left for fuel but that's no problem, these motors run on POLISH! In fact, they're so well waxed that they just can't STOP. On their first frantic journey they get lost in the loop of Westover Road. This is understandably upsetting ... and seems to increase the width of their wheels and the volume of their vehicles as the noisiest wildest driving becomes known as "doing a Westover Roadjob" round town.
Once again, I try to talk to Missy about getting in cars with people who have their size 15s jarred down on the gas pedal. "Don't worry Mum," she pacifies."It's safer than the sixties way of being hooked on speed". I'm not so sure myself.
It's getting so you can't drive through town without the hazards of the boy racers and the Bournemouth Bewildered. You know the ones .. little old folk who can't see over the steering wheel and change lane and direction without minding their mirrors or initiating their indicators. And THEY'RE the ones who when you got married were saying "May all of your troubles be little ones", with a grin on their faces, and I'll tell you for WHY ... THEY knew from experience that those troubles get bigger, and bigger, But no worries, the "little troubles" will reap your revenge for you! By the time they're seven they'll be in turbo charged roller blades, tearing around the promenade terrorising the Bournemouth Bewildered!
Did I mention that what goes around, comes around?
