Darn Tooting

I suppose it’s a sign of how sheltered a life I lead these days that ‘car driver hoots at cyclist’ counts as news. But that’s what happened (and besides, it was this or a post consisting of me moaning about the rain again, and nobody wants that). I had just turned onto Big A Road to get out of Papershop Village and the car coming up behind me – which was towing a caravan, I might add – decided I should get out of his way because I was holding him up. Now he decided to sound the horn just as I came up to the bus stop lay by where I normally pull in a little to let anyone who’s behind pass me, because I’m polite that way and because I prefer to have the imaptient drivers ahead of me instead of breathing fire up my tail. Naturally, once Mr Caravan Tower had let me know that he was there and important and in a hurry, I decided that, perhaps, I wouldn’t pull in after all. In fact, now might be an excellent time to take the primary position, just in case anyone was about to pull out of the side road or emerge unexpectedly from one of the houses. Funnily enough he then discovered that he could overtake me after all without sending me into the gutter, by going over to the other side of the road, and he roared away, sending the postman who (poor sod) has to cross Big A Road twice to deliver Papershop Village’s post, scuttling for the safety of the pavement.

I looked at the postman as I passed and gave him a look that said ‘what was all that about then?’ and he gave me a look that said ‘search me’ and we went on our separate ways reflecting that it takes hypocrisy of a certain monumental scale for a caravan driver to complain about being held up by something slower on the road.

And it is STILL raining.