Speedy Gonzales...

Some time in November, on a cold, dark night, I was lost on a back road coming back from the fleshpots of Milton Keynes, having spent the evening with daughter number two and Jolly Sock Man.  

I did try to use this statement as an excuse when faced with a speeding ticket a couple of weeks later to no avail, and apparently, being full of lasagne and a large bowl of crumble does not count for squat when faced with a speed camera.  This was my first speeding ticket in forty three years of driving, and the Husband has taken great delight in calling me 'Fletch' (c1980s Ronnie Barker) and referring to the kitchen as Cell Block H. 

I wouldn't mind, but in our family, I am renowned for my cautious driving (son number two refers to this as 'slow'.  'If you went any slower, the car would be going backwards', is one of his favourite sayings, so you just imagine the flack I have been getting from my so-called loved ones this past month or so.

But it wasn't all bad news.  I had the choice of going on a Speed Awareness Course with various other ne'er-do-wells to be given a virtual rap across the knuckles, whilst keeping my licence free of points.  For the £5 difference in the fine or the course, it was a close run thing to be honest.  At my age, being told where I have been going wrong all these years by a pre-pubescent youth in short trousers who thinks he knows everything is not the best way I want to spend three hours, but the Husband finally talked me into signing up for the course.  'I've done a couple of these', he said reassuringly.  'They completely patronise you for a couple of hours, and when you leave, you'll want to never drive again', he continued, very unreassuringly.

So yesterday morning, I was fairly relieved to meet bespectacled, hirsute Gerald, who, like everyone else, was still sporting a post-Christmas belly, slightly visible on the screen as it settled on his kitchen table, with two rather dubious Christmas decorations on the wall behind him.  I was the oldest on the course by around twenty five years, and I could see from the other inmates, that all they were thinking was that 'at her age, she should know better'.  There was only one man funnily enough, and his name was Johnny.  For those of us at a certain age, this has rather unpleasant connotations, and it was all I could do to keep a straight face every time he asked him a question.  The one about stopping quickly in the rain will live with me forever...

It was a virtual course, so no need to leave the house (I brought forward the 'never driving again' statement before I even started) so there were some rather unnecessary comments from Gerald as to whether I would manage using Teams.  'Is it something you've heard about before, Mrs R'?  I didn't like to point out that at some time in a previous life I ran the Home Counties section of Binland, so between gritted teeth and a rictus smile, I said that I knew enough to keep me out of trouble.

To be fair to Gerald, the course was actually very interesting, and I can see how it might be useful to people.  Even at the ripe of age of fifty nine and a bit, I can still learn new things it would seem.

Mainly the one about not doing 33mph in a 30mph zone....