Thrills and Spills

Going on the experience of this morning’s journey to work, today must be National Bad Driving Day in Catalonia.  The almost comical awfulness of the motoring skills on graphic display was awe-inspiring.

I blame fairgrounds.  The trills and spill of the rides in a typical fairground obviously foster those desires outside the gaudy boundaries of those licenced (though probably unsafe) night-time areas of revelry.

And the biggest culprit in the development of inconsideration is of course the dodgem. 

Riding in a fun little vehicle, with rubber bumpers all around and a limited space in which to operate and at a low speed gives susceptible drivers a cheap thrill which they translate to real roads as soon as possible. 

They know that “bumping,” adds zest and excitement to the drive in the fairground, so why not try it out in “real” life?  After all what can happen?  A little bump, a stimulating jolt and a hearty laugh!

Death and serious injury obviously plays no part in the possible outcomes and so my journey to work is made a total delight by the “immortals” driving on the same motorway with me.

It Britain the crash on the M5 in which seven people were tragically killed has made news headlines and it going to be the subject of an official inquiry.  IN this country the number of deaths on the road would prompt questions in parliament on a daily basis.  Yet people do not seem to link the way they drive with the number of deaths and serious injuries that result from this cavalier attitude to driving.  The Generalitat has taken to using the information gantries over the motorway to inform drivers in Catalan and Castilian of the total number of deaths and injuries since the beginning of the year.  It has no effect whatsoever.  None.

The only positive result from this constant spectacle of suicidal motoring is that I no longer scream abuse at the people trying to kill me.  I have not reached the stage of chuckling amusement with the slight raising of eyebrows, but my Latin shrug of the shoulders is developing nicely!

I have just done a panicky bit of marking and then discovered that the class was an hour later than I thought.  I now have “gained” time, which I shall use to read my art book as a pointed rejection of the tedious grammar and vocabulary that I have to plough through for the hapless kids who learn our impossible language!

The first report back from the trip to Lisbon informed us that one of the pupils had left her coat on the plane – far less worrying than a MacBook Air, but there again things come back to me!

One lesson to go but, as is the case three times a week that is with the third form and it is the last period of the day.  This timetable is not a pleasant one.

I have now been swimming twice this week after school and I feel the warm glow of self-congratulation which comes with the taking of exercise – no matter how little.  Apart from the fact that there are other people in the pool, and specifically in my lane, when I am swimming I am enjoying it.  My idea of perfection is a completely empty swimming pool in which I am the first to drive and thus break the glassy surface into a myriad of shimmering waves.

Having said that my entrance into the water yesterday was the apogee of inelegance.  My excuse was that a stick thin creature had got into the cramped lane before I made my grand entrance and therefore limited the grace that accompanied my stumbling fall into the water.  And the water went up my nose!  Such humiliation.  So to compensate I swam at her heels making sure that she realized that she was impeding my imperial progress as I carved my way through the water!

My goggles are less than watertight and, even though they are Speedo and therefore expensive they will be consigned to the bin and I will go through the multitude of pairs lying around the house.  It is no easy thing to find a pair that suit.  All I ask is that they keep out the water.  Given my eyesight being able to see through the inevitable fog is hardly of any importance as, even with crystalline lenses the only show the myopic blurs with more clarity – if that makes any sense.

At one time I did have a pair of prescription lenses but they have long gone and an off the shelf pair have rotted with age.  At least it will give me an excuse to go shopping again and wonder at the range and the breath-taking expense of what no one other than a “professional” swimmer representing the country at the highest level would have dreamed of wearing when I was a child!

But at the same time what adult male would have been seen squirting after-shave or eau de toilette on himself after a swim in a public changing room?  Times have changed!