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Rated: 13+ · Article · Biographical · #1902070
part 2, 'The central Reservation'
The central Reservation

I am not talking about a wild free place where the Indians roam, it is to do with a dual carriageway, and that is what the police call it when you are travelling up it and at a speed round about the national speed limit, which is 70 I believe.

In this case, I was travelling up a dual carriageway the wrong way, and realising there were cars in the dark coming towards me, I turned onto the central reservation this was easy, on, but not easy off. The mini, as was then in my possession got stuck coming off. The police did come, They are so reliable. I asked the nice policeman, because even in the dark I could see his puzzlement but no anger, if he could help me lift it back down again, so that I could drive off the right way up the dual carriageway. He didn’t say anything but tolerated me reaching back in to change the gear stick and sort of looked like he might be about to help, when a very scary woman policeofficer arrived and walked fairly menacingly towards me, and wouldn’t let me get back in the car.

I did attempt to convince her of the mini’s tight turning circle, but she was not having it, I said I would show her and got back in the car, and she said she couldn’t allow me to do that, and would I step out of the car and blow into the little white thing and had I taken any drugs that evening. I said I had not taken any drugs that evening, and was ready to launch into a diatribe about my horrible Christmas, with two Australians, one a drug rep (which is significant) and my family, but I could see that she was not going to be sympathetic, so there was no point in continuing. She ordered a convoy of three vehicles to go all the way down to the roundabout at the bottom with all the sirens and lights going and to come around back up the hill again so that they could help me out of my predicament, and that she never wanted to see me in that area again, at least until after new year. Well that’s all right I thought because I might not be here in this disastrous place by then.

I returned home at a leisurely pace and arrived to find my parents and the two Australians having coffee. They had been playing cluedo and actually itemising all the murder implements.
Can we stay here longer we love it so, and you have a washing machine.
I have a washing machine at my flat, no seriously we have to leave early tomorrow morning, or I am going to have a go at my mother.
Oh it will be alright but they are so lovely .
Of course they are, I know they’re lovely, they’re mine, but that is not the point. If we don’t leave early tomorrow morning, I don’t know what I will end up saying there will be consequences.

Well needless to say no one took the warnings and did anything with them, and sure enough at 8.00 am I went down into the kitchen where my mother was already up and lost the plot, until I had upset her so much that I knelt on the floor tremblingly and put my hand on her hand and told her how much I loved her. And she shook and shook and shook and said ‘I am not a huggy mother, I can’t help it’, the next day I packed the australians’ off somewhere else, and we found out that my mother’s cancer had returned. Poor ma.
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