On my way home from the trip to Brittany I was breathalysed!
In my defence, I want it to be placed on record that it
WASN'T MY FAULT!!!
You see, having been woken at 5.30am on the ferry from France that morning, I came over all knackered as I was driving along in the mid afternoon sunshine. The old eyelids were drooping, which is not a good idea on a motorway. So I left by the next available exit, parked up sensibly, padded the steering wheel with my ever present hat and rested my head on it.
Ooo, it was lovely: the drone of Radio 4s Gardeners Question Time drifting in and out of my consciousness, the strum of cars gently buzzing by, the thickly melting heat. Heaven. Dozing and sleeping in equal, sumptuous measure. Until, that is, there was an insistent tap on the window followed by the enquiry, "Hello Madam, is everything all right?"
Confused and sleepy, I was hauled savagely out of my slumber by a very sweet faced WPC.
I let her know I was fine. She asked me a few questions. I had trouble with some of them. Where was I going? I said Gloucester! Close, but wrong, not that she knew, but getting something so simple, so wrong, befuddled me slightly. And as for where I was coming from, the answer, "Um, you know," accompanied by a vague wave of the hand, didn't seem to impress her.
Seeing my discomforture, she asked if I'd had a drink today. I said, "Well, not for some time, thank you, water would be nice". She thought I was taking the p**s.
She asked for my licence and continued trying to find out when I'd last imbibed alcohol. A small glass at 10.30 the night before was clearly the wrong answer. I grasped about for a better one; one that she might approve of. Nothing but the truth came to mind.
I turned down the radio. My programme over.
She changed the subject, saying, in effect, though much more politely, that she thought I was lying about my age. Flattering, but now didn't seem the moment to thank her for insisting I was in my thirties (and she thought I was drunk!).
She gave back the licence, which, she informed me was fine. Fine?? FINE???? I'll have you know it's as clean as the day it was issued, as am I. 'Fine' hardly covers it. I've never had a single point. If I want excitement, I'll do something properly daring. Driving at 33mph in a 30 zone simply doesn't cut it for me, hence my annoyance. At last I was waking up.
Her chum mooched around the car. I felt smug about the good quality, new tyres that were fitted only three days earlier. She must have noticed and decided to teach me a lesson by taking the wind out of my sails. She asked if I'd mind if she smelt my breath. Of course I minded because, on the outward journey to France, I left my toothbrush, toothpaste and hairbrush in the en-suite on the boat. Quite frankly, my breath would've made a bears scrotum seem fragrant. Naturally, I said 'yes', and relished blasting my rankness into her awaiting nose. Nice job, I thought.
She retaliated by telling me I didn't smell of drink and then asked if I'd mind taking a breathalyser.
Of course I mind, so I said 'yes'.
She was palpably disappointed when the thing came up with a ZERO reading.
Clean car, clean license, clean body.
CLEAN AWAY!
In my defence, I want it to be placed on record that it
WASN'T MY FAULT!!!
You see, having been woken at 5.30am on the ferry from France that morning, I came over all knackered as I was driving along in the mid afternoon sunshine. The old eyelids were drooping, which is not a good idea on a motorway. So I left by the next available exit, parked up sensibly, padded the steering wheel with my ever present hat and rested my head on it.
Ooo, it was lovely: the drone of Radio 4s Gardeners Question Time drifting in and out of my consciousness, the strum of cars gently buzzing by, the thickly melting heat. Heaven. Dozing and sleeping in equal, sumptuous measure. Until, that is, there was an insistent tap on the window followed by the enquiry, "Hello Madam, is everything all right?"
Confused and sleepy, I was hauled savagely out of my slumber by a very sweet faced WPC.
I let her know I was fine. She asked me a few questions. I had trouble with some of them. Where was I going? I said Gloucester! Close, but wrong, not that she knew, but getting something so simple, so wrong, befuddled me slightly. And as for where I was coming from, the answer, "Um, you know," accompanied by a vague wave of the hand, didn't seem to impress her.
Seeing my discomforture, she asked if I'd had a drink today. I said, "Well, not for some time, thank you, water would be nice". She thought I was taking the p**s.
She asked for my licence and continued trying to find out when I'd last imbibed alcohol. A small glass at 10.30 the night before was clearly the wrong answer. I grasped about for a better one; one that she might approve of. Nothing but the truth came to mind.
I turned down the radio. My programme over.
She changed the subject, saying, in effect, though much more politely, that she thought I was lying about my age. Flattering, but now didn't seem the moment to thank her for insisting I was in my thirties (and she thought I was drunk!).
She gave back the licence, which, she informed me was fine. Fine?? FINE???? I'll have you know it's as clean as the day it was issued, as am I. 'Fine' hardly covers it. I've never had a single point. If I want excitement, I'll do something properly daring. Driving at 33mph in a 30 zone simply doesn't cut it for me, hence my annoyance. At last I was waking up.
Her chum mooched around the car. I felt smug about the good quality, new tyres that were fitted only three days earlier. She must have noticed and decided to teach me a lesson by taking the wind out of my sails. She asked if I'd mind if she smelt my breath. Of course I minded because, on the outward journey to France, I left my toothbrush, toothpaste and hairbrush in the en-suite on the boat. Quite frankly, my breath would've made a bears scrotum seem fragrant. Naturally, I said 'yes', and relished blasting my rankness into her awaiting nose. Nice job, I thought.
She retaliated by telling me I didn't smell of drink and then asked if I'd mind taking a breathalyser.
Of course I mind, so I said 'yes'.
She was palpably disappointed when the thing came up with a ZERO reading.
Clean car, clean license, clean body.
CLEAN AWAY!
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