Tuesday, the new Monday

Ladies and Gentlemen, let it not be said, I lead a boring life. Indeed, I would go as far as saying I live in 'interesting times'. Not the 'interesting times' of being stalked by Robert Downey Jr; pestered by Prince Charming to give up my life in Norwich and go and lie with him on the beach of his private island in the Tropics, to be waited on hand and foot; nor discovering the winning lottery ticket worth an obscene amount of money 'interesting'.

Oh no.

Yesterday, I enjoyed my first cup of coffee; nay, I savoured it. I rolled it around my tongue, appreciated every whiff of coffee aroma. Thus fortified I headed off to work. There was the usual traffic, I crept out of a junction and then...

*BANG*

I hit another car.

In the Grand Scheme of Things, I have much to be thankful for: no one was hurt, no one died; both myself and the other driver are properly insured; I have an insurance company who has proven itself worthy of the hefty premiums; I have employers who are understanding; I have friends who on hearing my voice and tale of woe, put the kettle on.

Within an hour, my poor battered Pride and Joy was put on the back of a lorry and carted off to the body centre to be assessed. I sat in Gee's back room and alternated between shaking and sighing. I drank very sweet coffee, smoked half a hundredweight in tobacco and ate toast slathered in butter and honey.

It was a few hours before I could get it together to go pick up the courtesy car. The courtesy car, I've decided is the punishment for my lapse of attention. I try very hard not to hate it. I'm being grateful that a) I have a courtesy car, because having to rely on public transport for the next few weeks would be a nightmare b) it's clean, tidy and new. Can you tell I write that with gritted teeth?

When I said to the insurance company that it was my fault; that I broke the cardinal rule of road traffic collisions (RTCs) and told the other driver so, the very nice lady laughed. She said if I hadn't have said it was my fault, she would have been telling me so.

I thought I was clear to cross the junction, I wasn't. It's quite cut and dried. If I had a do-over, I would do it differently. I don't. So there it is. No one died. When I said that to the guy who winched my Pride and Joy up the back of his lorry, he just looked at me and shook his head. He said that he wished all of the RTCs he went to had a similar story. He said he seen things that still give him nightmares.

So, all in all, I'm shaken, not stirred.