Thursday, 10 August 2017

Its scone to far

So I’m driving today. I had a driving a lot day today. Here there and everywhere. 
Rolling hill and shifting gear. 
Early start for a 9am presentation over the hill. 
So I’m done there by 10am and looking for coffee. 
My 7am weetabix are wearing off, so I purchase a latte with a scone too. For some reason I don’t take the opportunity to return my purse to its bag before taking ownership of my change, a cream & jam scone and a burning hot latte to go.

Now why is it that cafes give you a burning hot coffee to go? Yet the one you get in the shop is cool in ten flipping seconds? Who needs scolding hot coffee on the trot? Give me drinkable in five coffee please? Not, 'burn your lips off as the car bumps or the train rolls around corners' coffee.

So I struggle out the shop, balancing all my purchases and belongings in one hand as I reach for the door handle. Predictably I spill some burning hot coffee onto my already burnt thumb (oven door). Ouch! 
So now I’m a little bit annoyed but also glad I didn’t spill the whole coffee. I gather my senses, load up my car and head off. Securing the coffee safely in a cup carrier, as there is no chance I am gonna be able to drink it on the move, in fact I will be lucky if the thing has cooled down by tomorrow.

I travel out of the village from where I have come, enjoying the curving road, dreaming how wonderful they will drive when I purchase my next car. Hopefully my dream car. Being awe struck by the colours and enjoying the sunshine rays across the morning sky.

I am picking small bite size lumps off my scone, which is also placed in the central food reservation...or console....m,iddle bit of the car, ya know?

Through the wiggles and winds of the country lanes (although this is an A road) I catch up with a rickety old van, probably being driven by a rickety old man. It’s slow, positively snail pace and if anything as large as a logging lorry comes towards it, it slows more. But I’m content to poodle behind it for now. It’s a glorious morning and I’m slightly distracted by eating and it is a really dangerous road for passing places.

In the meantime I am fighting with my scone. Right hand on the wheel, left hand buried in the scone bag, it doesn’t want to give up a chunk, it’s resisting separation, yet I must have some! 

I pull the whole scone from the bag, rest the bag on my knee and rest the scone on top of that. I am lifting the ample delight towards my gaping mouth when my periphery danger alert snaps on! 
Danger alert! Danger alert! My vision notices the before mentioned van appearing rather largely in my front window. I realise with some distress and amazement that the dozy van driver has come to an stop on an S bend, due to an oncoming lorry. I have no option than to jump on the brakes and perform an emergency stop. 

The tyres screech and smoke, the scone whizzes off my lap quicker than you can throw a Frisbee and hurtles around the front windows of the car. Explodes over them and the steering wheel, rolls onto my knee, down my boots and lands nice and creamily half on top of the acceleration pedal, half in front of the brake.
I try and remove some of the mess around the steering wheel as I drive on tip toes to the nearest parking space. When I stop I can’t believe the mess everywhere. I swear there was never that much in it the bloody scone in the first place! As I survey the catastrophe and begin to climb out of the car for a shake, I realise myself and the car looks like the murder scene of a baker. 

I have scone and jam chunks in my hair, the steering wheel is greasy, though very shiny and my foot pedals are caked in...well cake!

More than anything I am gutted as I am still hungry. I pick dirt free scone off myself, the floor and the steering wheel and nibble as I wipe down my knees and boots. Everything a slight greasy creamy smell!

I clean up the car, drive on thoughtfully and vow two things.
1. I will no longer eat in the car whilst driving

2. I will never behave like this in my TVR!