Life in the fast lane

Fawlty Towers Freeby

Image by Simon Scott via Flickr

I am writing to you from the fast lane of the M3 adjacent to Bracknell. Is writing therapeutic? I am not sure, but I suspect that you are probably asking yourself whether I am writing and driving at the same time. I am, well at least I am sitting behind the wheel of my now over-used BMW S4HEN in case anyone is adjacent to me and reading this (please wave).

I am technically the driver. We are of course not moving but sat in the same spot  as we have been for nearly two hours awaiting some gruesome accident up the road. The time is 7.00pm , in 2 hours I am supposed to be catching a train to Manchester to  meet with Seafarers and their representative tomorrow.

I have no doubt I will get there at some point as life has a habit of working out for you . In fact it’s that sense of calm that comes over you when you realise that nothing can be done about it that is one of the best stress-breakers in the psyche.

But sorry ….over indulgent of me…… how can I make this rather shitty moment in my life a memorable one. How can I make this moment consequential. Can the act of creating words that convey the dep calm I feel, be in themselves calming to others or am I just kidding myself that I am coping ; only to find that in a few minutes I will become the hapless road-raged monster that I see two cars up smashing the roof of his car with his fist like a latter-day John Cleese (yes I know you wan that you-tube link!). Enjoy it dod we?

Perhaps I have just turned the corner ; perhaps that memory of Faulty Towers, the branch, the Austin Minor – Basil Fawlty flaying the bonnet has calmed that inner me. Perhaps you, sitting with your Blackberry or lap-top or perhaps your office monitor in front of you, are thinking when will it end.

My wait for the road to clear, your wait for the last sentence. “Sentence”, bizarre that my sentence is to be trapped in traffic while you are the traffic on my blog sentenced to read every single word. Or maybe not.

Perhaps I am just talking to myself now – perhaps no-one is listening. Perhaps like a Beckettian fool , a Krapp, I am playing out my last tape before insanity grips.

Are you witnessing the final moment’s of lucidity of this man. Is it a much more sinister  event that is playing out before you.? OMG as I have never said before.

Ther e- I said it OMG. That;s life in the fast lane for you.


About henry tapper

Founder of the Pension PlayPen,, partner of Stella, father of Olly . I am the Pension Plowman
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2 Responses to Life in the fast lane

  1. judithhb says:

    Hope you got to Manchester on time. Good post.

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