Wednesday, 22 April 2009

Footwork or rather a lack of it

I have a very short drive to work in the mornings, yet this morning I forgot how to drive.
Has that ever happened to you?
I drive an automatic so there's not that much to remember.
I was wearing a pair of more summery shoes than usual and I'd noticed they were a bit dusty as I got in the car. They'd been hanging up in the kitchen next to Oscar's bed - tantalizingly close just asking for trouble. They'd evaded his chewing but had been exposed to the airborne mud that evaporates as he dries off after his daily excavations. (I think he may be an archaeologist judging by the size of the dig in progress under the window.)
Anyway it was a straight bit of road so I polished my right show absent mindedly against the carpet in the footwell, which seemed to have the same effect as shuffling a pack of cards. My foot seemed to have no memory of which pedal was which or indeed which foot normally does all the work!
The car in front put on its indicator and started to slow and all the blood seemed to drain out of my body in preparation for a RTA.
The wandering foot did remember its job in the nick of time although I did rather stamp on the brakes.
Needed a cup of tea and a sit down when I came into work.
Luckily my fingers can still remember how to type.
It's all Oscar's fault, obviously!

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