EDitorial ± 5-Oct-2005

Sixteen Fork Handles

Good to be quite literally back in the saddle again today after an unprecedented two days on the trot in the (still scratched) car. I know I don't have to justify myself to you, but Monday was a long planned lunchtime trip to the accountant --- he explains, I glaze over or giggle --- and Tuesday had me ferrying unwell Eldest for childcare at mother-in-law's. Essential journeys both.

So, was undertaking the slow moving traffic when a vest-wearing mountain biker went past. This was just prior to the red light of a pedestrian crossing, and he hopped on the pavement (it is marked for cyclists at that point) and out the other side while I waited for the green signal. Would have let this go, but he didn't maintain his speed and I soon caught up.

As we hit another blockage, he and I both took a short cut on the grassy verge, bumping over various driveways. In my head, this plays like a chase from an old western, with him as the bad guy in black and me as the sheriff, urging our ponies ever faster through the brushwood.

Road clear once more, back we went with a busy junction approaching. This time he waited while I jumped up on the marked path, bounding way ahead past the shops and Rushmere Heath. I didn't look back. Giddy-up!

Poor equine link ahead: in lunchtime chess, played a half-decent move with my queen to take his pawn, only to find my piece threatened by his knight and with me in check: The Queen Is Dead. Game (effectively) over.

If you had your car window wound down near Henley Road at around 6:10pm, you may have heard me cry out as I finally spotted a "16" registration plate. It's been a while, you understand.

I'd also been puzzling over a sign that someone had attached to the traffic lights saying "Amiee And Shane's Engagement Party" with arrows pointing right. That's not a typo: it said Amiee. My guess would be that the lady involved is really called Aimee, and that the notice was hastily created by Shane's best mate, who'll we'll call Gavin, on his PC at work. Only Gavin, who Shane has known since infants, doesn't get on with his best mate's fiancee, and so didn't take much care in spelling her name correctly --- who's going to know or care? --- though Shane thanked him anyway. Gavin can foresee an end to their days of getting wasted on Friday nights and playing footy together on Sundays; he doesn't want Shane to settle down with Aimee or with anyone for that matter. Still, nothing stays the same, and at least Gavin took the trouble to slip the A4 sheet into a clear plastic cover: that says something.