Thursday, May 8, 2008

May (08) Thurs

Still the sun beats down, and yes, we are of course told that it's hotter here than in Spain, Greece and Turkey. It's 25 or 77 in old money an it' bloody lovely. I drive S around Aylesbury for what seems the nine millionth time, but the place looks entirely different basking in this glorious sunshine. Previously tatty buildings take on a sandy glow and revealed a hitherto unsuspected grandeur, girls with short skirts and long legs amble aimlessly in the heat. Who could be unhappy?
T was supposed to be immediately after S, but for the second time he rings up with a couple of hour's notice to cancel. I am getting pissed off. It shows a total disrespect, and you start to question what value they put on you if they think you can be pissed around in this way. Non confrontational soul that I am, I shall have words with T next time.
New pupil in the evening. A disaster. Takes me an hour an half to get to Harefield. Supposedly she is on the brink of her test and just needs to brush up. In fact she is a disaster! A pretty disaster mind, that is some compensation.
Another row with Sophie today. She came in from school and I had the cricket on the box. She just turned it over. I pulled her up. She told me that she was doing revision tonight and that she needed to watch TV for half an hour to relax, the implication being that I could take it or leave it.
Shouting ensued, and further bad feeling. I hope this isn't going to become a habit. Sophie is fantastic, she does work really hard, and is a great role mode for her younger siblings. I do sometimes feel though that she feels the whole world revolves around her, her needs and her wishes and that we exist to execute her wishes at the drop of a hat. All the same don't want to fall out with her.

Decide to rie into town to get something to eat. Get to a set of traffic lights. They are red. Ahead of me an old banger. He's stopped way passed the line to facilitate a chat with his mate who is working in the chips shop. His mate is S, who I know well from the time I delivered those vile lumps of chicken to him. A nice bloke.

The lights turn to green. He doesn't immediately set off, but finishes his chat. So fucking rude. The times I have sat behind in my car at these guys' convenience. so I start to overtake him and he pulls away. I get deilberately close. He stops. I get very high and mighty and tell him he can't drive. He responds. The situation deteriorates. I call him a twat. He leaps from his car. He's bigger than me and I don't do violence anyway. I am on bike and he'son foot. He swears at me and Imutter something that's certainly get me on the Fatwa list. He drives off and I seethe.

Over a pint I think about what I have done. A silly bit of self righteousness leading to a potentially explosive situaton. Where could it have endd up? In court? In hospital? Me without a job? It rankles and worries me how easily I was drawn into it, and equally how I coul have dealt with it so much more adeptly. Two rows in a day. Something's wrong.

On the way home a car roars up behind me as I struggle up the hill. He blasts his horn. I think it's the same guy. In a way I hope so, taking this to mean that his honour is satisfied with blast of the hooter rather than a knife in the stomach. All very silly.

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