nothing changes…

it’s official. i love the country. i love walking in the country. i don’t however like cow manure. i hate cow manure and i like it even less when it’s in my eye. i never want to live in the country.

the story starts with me totally embarrassing myself by putting my foot down whilst reversing and not paying full attention, to find my self planted in the back of a lady’s car who happened to be standing next to it at the time. i could make a zillion excuses about how it happened, but the truth be known, it was sunny and the first tops down day of the year (in bugsy the beetle) and i was just over-excited. shameful but true.

having given the lady my insurance details and walked away rather red faced, i decided that i needed to clear my head, so put the music on full blast and decided to go for a drive. the drive went well for the whole of 15 minutes at which stage i realised bristol city were playing football at home and i spent the next hour sat in congestion inhaling fumes and becoming ever more infuriated. not assisted by every tenth person walking past totally drunk at 2pm (yes 2pm people) and attempting to get in my car with me.

things went from bad to worse when still sat in traffic, unable to move, i see a tractor pulling cow manure along the road. as if in slow motion, a clump of the manure dislodged itself from the truck and hurtled it’s way towards me. spinning and squelching it’s way through the air, it finally landed in my right eye. no i’m not joking. i’m really not joking and my scream (had you heard it) would definitely have shown you that i wasn’t joking.

in shock, i peer through my left eye, to see whether i could catch the number plate of the tractor (surely it can’t be legal to have vehicles like that on the road - it must be a health hazard) - instead all that i could see was the chap behind with tears rolling down his face as he took great delight in my misfortune. if i could have hurt him right then, i would have. harsh, yes, but true.

having wiped the poop from my eye with my right hand, i then had to drive all of the way home using one hand to steer and change gears - i think it could be time to get myself a sensible, non-poop attracting car!

you’ll be pleased to hear though that my housemates showed great sympathy to me (or at least until i left the room at which point there was a huge thud where they had fallen to the floor with laughter). charming. i might have to go shopping to get over the trauma.