Francis calls as I'm investigating the fridge, trying to work out whether any of the assorted scary looking objects in tupperware containers is food or, more likely, a colony of small, slightly smelly alien hatchlings, left for safekeeping by their parents while they head off for a night on the tiles.
"I've just closed the motorway," he says in what, with hindsight, is a tone of unnatural calm.
"Oh, well done, darling," I say, only half listening and vaguely imaging closing motorways, like judging Miss Mermaid, to be another slightly eccentric job requirement - a sort of reverse opening ceremony where you pocket the champagne, close the scissors and rewind the ribbon into a neat figure of eight shape round your fingers.
"No, you don't understand," he says."I'm at the front of a three-car pile up but I'm fine, thanking you for your concern."
"I am concerned," I say. "But I take it you're not badly hurt, otherwise you wouldn't be able to call me. What happened?"
"A van ran into the car behind me and I couldn't accelerate fast enough to stop him hitting me."
"Are the other drivers OK?"
"Well, the van driver who started it all isn't."
"Why?"
"Because I've just punched him in the face."
"Oh."
"I didn't like his attitude."
"I shouldn't think he's wild about yours, either," I say. "Why did you punch him?"
"He started blaming me for braking. Then when the police came over, he decided he didn't like their attitude much, either, so he ran away. They asked me if he had any distinguishing features and I said, 'Yes - a big bruise on his right cheek where I hit him," and they all laughed. Anyway, they've brought in a couple of bloodhounds and they're tracking him across the fields."
Francis arrives home several hours later, sounding considerably less calm as the shock sets in. He calls his boss, whose immediate reaction is to ask when he'll be in again.
"Wrong way round," says Francis, helpfully. "First you ask how I am, THEN you demand to know when I'll be back. It's better for employee morale. Just a tip for next time."
Then, surveying the still driveable car with its crumpled boot, secured by police emergency tape, he pours himself an extra large drink with an only slightly shaky hand and starts to ring the insurers.
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17 comments:
Wow your writing is so funny but true! Thanks for visiting mine. Thought I'd pop over and see... and not disappointed.
Noted a small tea party going on last time at 4-ish involving vodka. Any room? ;0)
Please come, crazycath - I'll be the one under the table, and I'll be laughing. Or crying. Both, maybe.
Oh, I'm so glad he was ok.
As the measures against global warming get more draconian, perhaps motorways will start being closed, and perhaps there will be ceremonies by eminent green campaigners. You may well find that Jonathan Porritt emails you for advice, having googled 'closing motorway ceremony'.
You may be a woman ahead of her time, which, if you'll forgive a little black humour, is better than being a man ahead of a van.
What I love about getting your comments, Iota, is finding them first thing in the morning. Waiting for the call from Porritt but unfortunately have just finished last of closing ceremony champagne.
I always get Colin and Francis mixed up with each other, although it is so obvious that it is Francis whom you are married to; if not you are committing adultery, but that is beside the point, and none of my business.
So, poor Francis was in front of a pile up and it clearly shook his nerves and I am glad he punched that van driver, for surely he had that coming to him.
Imagine blaming Francis when he should have been clearly paying attention to the traffic ahead of him, the van driver I mean, and hit his brakes on time. Jeez, some people!
At least Francis didn't get rumpled, so that is good. Apparently he doesn't have a single scratch or bruise on him and you did check that really well, didn't you, Omega Mum? Gave him a careful examination?
You must always very carefully check over your man after incidents like this, it all has to do with durability and life expectancy and shelf life and that sort of thing.
I've heard that a box of really good chocolates helps a lot in cases of shock like this and it helps even better if you eat most of them yourself. But it is a rumor and I can't confirm it. Mmm...what's a woman to do around here to get a box of really good chocolates?
Anyway, wrap your arms around him gently and caress him carefully and he will be well again and out of shock in a few days.
How are the alien hatchlings?
So pleased Francis was OK. How frightening.
But you've given me an idea; could we not have everything in reverse such as the State Closing of Parliament?
I could go on....
Oh well, I'll just have the vodka then thanks. And don't worry about a mixer.
Well, at least he's okay.
And you got a funny post out of it. I'd write a better comment, but I'm still guffawing at Iota's.
Sweet I: Thanks for the chocolate therapy. Sounds good to me. And given that I get confused by Colin and Francis (one has horrid white hairy wrists and the other doesn't) I think you're doing quite extraordinarily well.
Casdok: Moving, worringly.
Debio: What a wonderful idea. Let's do it. New political party.
Potty Mummy: Ice with that? Or just more vodka?
The rotten corr: He said, rather crossly, that he was glad to have given me good blog material. I denied I would use it. I was lying.
Sweet I: Thanks for the chocolate therapy. Sounds good to me. And given that I get confused by Colin and Francis (one has horrid white hairy wrists and the other doesn't) I think you're doing quite extraordinarily well.
Casdok: Moving, worringly.
Debio: What a wonderful idea. Let's do it. New political party.
Potty Mummy: Ice with that? Or just more vodka?
The rotten corr: He said, rather crossly, that he was glad to have given me good blog material. I denied I would use it. I was lying.
Not that it helps when you're being rammed up the rear by a larger vehicle, but isn't it true that if someone backends you, insurance wise, you're not liable for anything?
Another cause for a drink I'd say!
I am a big fan of your blog. I decided to tag you :)
Oh poor Francis. I started out laughing as usual but stopped when I got to the accident bit and didn't laugh again for the rest of the post... Well I have to admit I almost giggled at what he said to his boss...am begining to think he works for the NHS!
Expat mum: All would be well except that the van seems to have been stolen and driven uninsured, so guess what happens next? Still, I am quite pleased he punched the driver now, and I wasn't before.
1stopmum: Nice to see you. Thanks for the tag.
DJ: Don't feel you can't laugh. Silver linings, etc. And he is alive, thank God.
Francis sounds like such a he-man! I'm swooning over here in S of F.
Mya x
Holy cow. Scary. These things give you too much to think about. Have a lovely stiff drink, both of you.
AB
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