So last Friday I crashed my car for the first time.
My first actual* crash.
It shook me up.
I have decided that 9 in the morning, across two lanes at Preston Circus, is a bad time to permanently affix yourself to the tow bar of a Landrover.
Very bad.
The police could not separate us. The AA man could not jack us apart. It took a while but in the end the tow bar was dismantled from underneath and our cars were once more free.
It resulted in a fleeing in shame and shock to Devon for the weekend.
Thank goodness for Devon: paddling at Beer (where I drank cider) and an immense Sunday Roast did wonders for my mood.
I'm still a bit fretsome, but it had to happen sooner or later I suspect.
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* I am discounting the drunken incident when I steered someone else's car into a petrol pump and a VW van. I was only 17 and couldn't drive then.
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