The working day runs smoothly, while the evening is a completely different story:-
My intention to deliver the nfab CD to Allen and enjoy a couple of beers at Allen's local is in theory the most simplistic of plans. The slippery road surface en route, is not. And so as I'm literally one mile from Holmbury (and from a couple of relaxing pints), my tyres suddenly lose grip, and my car spins round and right off the road, heading forwards up a bank.
The reality of the above description is actually not as brief or fleeting. In fact the moment my back wheels started to spin out, it was literally like my life was playing out in slow motion. I calmly thought; well it's obvious that you've got to steer into the skid, and so I did... but nothing happened, because the car was still aqua-planing on the wet surface. By the time the grip kicked in, my car was facing the side of the road, and all I could do was hit the brakes some more and hope.
And so I came to a halt, looking out across an immaculate lawn. It felt like that bit at the end of the Italian job where the bus hangs off the cliffe, because my car was clearly banked on it's underside, wheels up in the air. "Fuck" was a word I seemed to be saying over and over. I climbed out and quickly surveyed the damage. There was fairly extensive body work damage on the left side where the car had imapcted onto a bush and minor damage to the front bumper, but apart from that it looked OK and sounded OK (engine-wise). Of course, the main problem was that I was still banked and half in somebody's garden!
Eventually I give up desperately trying to shift the car on my own and decide to pursue a useful course of action instead. Realising my mobile reception is nil, I have no choice but to flag down a passing car (at this point in time, still in shock, there is absolutely no way I'm ready to confront the owner of the garden). A woman in a Merc pulls over heading in th eHomlmbury direction. Obviously she will be no use in helping me push, but there is another way she can be of use...
Five mins later I get exit the woman's Merc, thank her profusely for the lift (how I blagged that one I'll never know) and walk into the pub where I'm supposed to be meeting Al for a relaxed couple of pints. Al says "Hi", but can immediately see from my face that the plan has changed somewhat.
Allen kindly drives me back to the scene of the crash. As we arrive, two other guys pull up and soon the four of us are attempting to move my car... but it's all to no avail - the damn thing won't shift. Only option now will be to involve a tow-truck. Thankfully I manage to find my insurance details and a number to call. As I relay all the details to my insurers, the owner of the house finally appears. Thankfully he's reasonably Ok about the whole thing, mainly due to the fact that I've come off the road and into his garden at the exact same spot as someone else did a couple of months ago! He also explains this is why he dumped a load of grass cuttings down (which is what the underside of my car is currently stuck in! I give him my details anyway, because it's difficult to see if there's any damage or not, while my car is still stuck there.
Eventually the tow-truck arrives and takes my car away. With that issue finally sorted, Allen kindly returns me to my flat.
After Allen leaves, I finish the half bottle of wine left over from last night while I laugh away to the Little Britain DVD. Bizarrrly I end the night on drunken high spirits; presumably my subconcious has decided to let the car-less reality sink in tomorrow.
