Once again I braved the early morning roads, on what should have been my morning off, in order to cover for an absent colleague.
Through sixteen miles (there and back) of stop-start traffic I struggled, along with all those other plonkers (who were obviously to blame for everything), in a desperate bid to earn my wage.
It was 06.45 when I mounted my trustee steed (my car, but a horse would have been quicker) and took off into the darkness and pouring rain.
I managed a magnificent half mile before being halted by the first of many delays ... a mini-bus trying to do a three point turn on a narrow street. After about twenty 'points' he managed it and cleared the road, much to everyone's (there was a queue of about twenty cars by this time) delight.
Of we set again, through Llandaff North, past BBC Cymru (Wales) and into Llandaff itself. Mere minutes it took me to arrive in Llandaff but it took another twenty before I could leave and head towards Canton.
And Llandaff isn't like, you know, big. It's a titchy little patch of Cardiff's greater metropolitan region and usually it's behind me in two or three minutes.
It was, I discovered to my utter horror, dustbin day and the Refuge Collection Operatives (grubby men in fluorescent jackets) were out in force.
Canton, I feared, would be no better.
Anyway, the eight mile journey - twenty minutes on a good day - robbed me of fifty-five minutes of my life.
After I had completed my call, I headed home again but by this time Cardiff's drivers were out in force and were all desperately trying to get to work on time.
I left my client at a little before 08.30 and managed to pull into my driveway at 09.35.
Cars, buses, trucks and cyclists are a pain and I complain (justly) about them far too often but it occurred to me this morning that there is another area of complaint well worth mentioning.
They ignore the pedestrian signals and just keep on crossing the roads with a 'What the hell! They're doing it' attitude.
And there is always ... always ... a granny at the back of them who ties to walk across with them. But, when granny realises that she has been left behind and is alone in front of a hoard of pi$$ed off drivers, she tries to break into a jog, somehow contriving to become even slower in the process.
And it's a safe bet that once she's started doing her impersonation of Usain Bolt, she will drop something and spend another couple of minutes doing the 'old person' squat (whilst groaning about her poor old back) and try to pick it again.
It can be an excruciatingly painful thing to watch, but no one ever leaves their car to assist lest they themselves fall under the hateful glare (and a few choice words) of their fellow motorists.
There you have it.
A completely unimportant semi-rant about road users and pedestrians.
Reading this may not have been your cup of tea, but writing it has certainly taken the edge of my lust for blood and the doing of physical harm to my fellow man!
I'm sure though that after today's vehicular experience that I am only one of many that have taken to the Bloggi-verse in order to vent off steam.
I have to go back to work in twenty minutes.
About This Blog
This blog was originally started as a thread on the forum pages of an animal rescue site. Now it's here!
The articles you find in here are purely for entertainment (yours and mine) and (with one or two exceptions) are all tongue-in-cheek chronicles of the World (my bit, anyway) as I see it.
No disrespect is intended towards anyone unless I make a mistake and make it too obvious.
I hope you enjoy my offerings. Feedback and comments of any kind are welcome.
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