"That's right Sarge, thirty thwee, Upcwock Close," John smiled, he knew that one would go down well on the team. Wait for it. A garbled cough sound came over the radio. There would be much laughing amongst his team.
As he turned into the street, he glanced at his watch, 1.35 pm. It was slightly irritating to him to be given this task, at this time. But sudden deaths, and how next of kin are informed has always been, in John's mind anyway, one of those tasks that should be done with care, and well. This was why he had been given this particular one to do.
A young lad of 21 had just died in a collision riding his motorbike. Jake Longley was his name. Bit of a sad story all round really, John thought. A Community Officer had informed them that Jake's Mum died of cancer when he was only 17. But Jake's Dad, Ian Humphries, had taken it so badly: the illness had come on at pace; that he left the family home and his son Jake, and has not been seen since. The police do suspect that Ian has taken his own life as there has been no activity on bank accounts or any signs of him still being around. But until his body is found, they have to treat him as a missing person.
That's why the team Inspector has requested that John attend to speak to the parents of Ian, grandparents of Jake. It was a bit of a sensitive one. John would have liked to have a young officer to tag along with him, as these kinds of tasks don't come up often, so it would have been a good experience for someone young in service. But time was pressing, and there were only 25 minutes of this shift to go. John needed to crack on, as someone had to attend the hospital to confirm the identity of Jake formally.
Upcrock Close, John tried to think if he had ever had any cause to come down this street in his 22 years on this patch. It was funny how that happened. There are some streets that just don't cause the police any bother at all, ever.
"Just pulling up," John radio'd through.
"Thank you Sarge, sowwy about this."
John winced at the obsequious remark. It's part of the job. I'm getting paid for doing this. He was finding that far too many youngsters coming into the job now expected to be thanked for doing their job. People were too quick to be apologising for aspects of the job that are just the job. Shit happens John thought. It just happens.
He pulled up to number 33, and looked at the front of the semi-detached home. Neat garden. Very respectable-looking house. Pretty much as John expected.
When the bell rang, George Humphries was sat watching snooker. The bell made him jump. "What's that Lyn?"
"The door, can you get it? I'm washing up here," Lynda shouted out from the kitchen.
George struggled to get up. He was unsteady on his feet now. He'd not done too badly with his health, considering he was now 79 years old. He slowly shuffled to the front door with his walking stick, opened the door and the sight of a police officer took his breath away.
"Hello, sir."
"Oh dear. Hello officer. Can I help you at all?"
"I was wondering if I could speak to Mr and Mrs Humphries please? George and Lynda?"
"Of course officer. Come in son," he opened the door wider for the heavy built policeman to enter.
"I'm so sorry to be disturbing you this afternoon," John said as he entered the hallway. He glanced around. All neat and tidy.
"Don't be silly," George replied, "I'm only watching the snooker. I hope it's not bad news officer."
As the two men walked into the lounge, Lynda came out of the kitchen, visibly flustered, drying her hands on her apron. "Oh my," she garbled, "hello officer, oh it's a Sergeant."
"Good afternoon to you both, my name is John Langer from Wembley police station. I'm sorry to be troubling you today. Can I confirm that I'm speaking to George and Lynda Humphries please?"
"Well, yes, Sergeant," Lynda was struggling to get her words out. "Yes, is anyone hurt?"
"Is it possible if I may have a seat please Mrs Humphries?"
"Go on son, you are more than welcome, let me turn this snooker off Lyn," George fell on to his usual seat and zapped the controller off.
"You both had a son Ian who was married to Lesley?" John was thumbing through his notebook to make sure he got the names out correctly.
"Yes that is right, but poor Les, she died a while ago now son. We don't know where our Ian is. Have you found him?"
"No sir, bear with me. I have no news today regarding your son Ian. Now Ian had a son called Jake, yes?"
"Has a son called Jake, officer, has," Lynda was quick to respond.
John looked at Lynda.
Lynda stared at him.
How so much can be said without a single word spoken.
"Please go on, son," George seemed to miss that communication.
Lynda put her hand on the fireplace wall to steady herself. She was the only one standing, but John had a very real concern it would not be for long.
John stood up, "Please allow me to help you sit down Mrs Humphries." He raised his bent arm to offer her a lever. She took hold of his arm and gently lowered herself down on to the chair and took a very deep sigh.
John sat down again.
"So if I have my details correctly recorded, your grandson's name is Jake Humphries, his date of birth being 5th December 1999, and he lives in Sudbury?"
"Yes that's the one," George confirmed, he pointed up to the fireplace, to a string of photographs of Jack. "There he is Sergeant, our pride and joy eh Lyn?"
George smiled at John, but John had to look down at his notebook.
He thought this was going to be a bad one. He'd only had a couple of these in his career, and this had the making of being bad.
"Have I got that date of birth correct Mrs Humphries?"
Lynda slowly turned her head to John, "Yes you have" she slowly replied. She got her tissue out of her apron and dabbed her eye.
Lynda's whole world was beginning to close in on her. It was like how televisions used to turn off in the old days; it goes black and then right in the centre was a white dot which eventually fades out. She felt like that was happening in her head right now.
"What's the matter Lyn?" George asked his wife; he was a bit slower in keeping up with the conversation.
"The thing is Mr Humphries," John started.
"Please call me George son, everyone calls me George."
"I'm afraid George, that young Jake has died in a motorbike collision today."
John looked at George. Silence. No motion. He was holding on to his walking stick with his right hand. Silence.
"Say again, son? What's that about our Jake?"
John looked at the old man. This poor chap has seen his family members go one by one — his daughter in law, his son, and now his grandson. Life can be cruel, John thought.
"I'm sorry to have to tell you this George, but earlier on today, your grandson Jake was in a motorbike collision," he paused to allow that to sink in, "and tragically, Jake died as a result."
George looked at Lyn. Her head was down, and her shoulders were rocking. She was weeping in silence, with her eyes closed.
George turned to John, "No son, please don't tell me that is true. Oh, no son. That's not right, is it?" He looked at John, with eyes begging, pleading that he had got the facts incorrect.
John looked at this old man in front of him and wondered if he and his wife were strong enough to survive this devastating news.
"I erm," John stumbled, "am afraid to say, George, that is what has happened."
John turned to Lynda.
It's a bit like grading the severity of injuries on arrival at a collision, John thought to himself. It's not the loud ones that you want to concern yourself with. Grief has a similar feel to it.
As John watched Lynda weeping quietly in the corner, he could hear George saying "Not my Jake, not my Jake."
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Tuesday 17 December 2019
Monday 16 December 2019
Roundabout!
"Woo hoo," Sarah put the tray of 144 eggs on to the top of the existing pile.
"Roundabout!" Sarah and Ann sang in a chorus.
It was a little ritual that they have developed over the months of picking up eggs. When they were feeling super happy, they would perform a little harmonic duet.
Each tray of eggs, represents one tenth of a driving lesson (they worked out earlier in the Spring that they normally do about 10 roundabouts per driving lesson. At their hourly rate, it takes them ten egg trays to pay for one driving lesson). It was a way for the girls to stay motivated in their work. It was back-breaking work and so cold in the winter months. But perhaps the worst thing was the awful dust in the air. Gulps of water, little and often helped, but you couldn't gulp too much down, as it just made you go to the loo all the time and you would miss your daily target of eggs.
North Wales was a beautiful place to live, both of the girls knew that, but it was rather limited in the hope it could offer them for long term employment. They needed mobility - hence the driving lessons. But it was so incredibly expensive.
They started picking up eggs in February. February 10th to be precise. Ann remembers it well as it was the day her dog died. She had left Sammy, the family golden labrador that morning, at 4.30am, not knowing then, that she would never see him alive again. It brings a tear to her eye every time she thinks about him. 'See you later Sammy' were the last words she said to her dog. She used to take him back an egg to put in some milk, just as a treat. She missed her dog so much. That was the worst day of her 17 years so far. Sarah really helped her get through that grief.
Roll on 4 months later, and here they are, in the cold, dusty, noisy brick house, picking up eggs. Hundreds, thousands of them. The two girls have been doing this for 6 days solid, every single week. Seventeen they may be, but it still breaks your back by the end of the shift. "Can I have a 'break back Big Mac' please?" is the girls' little joke they say when they go to McDonalds. The egg farm supplies the food chain, so whenever they go to their local outlet, the staff there know what's coming. The two girls are well known in the village. They've known each other all their young lives. They will remain friends to "the day we die" is what they say.
They took their driving theory tests on their birthdays. Ann was in January, and Sarah a few weeks later. They were very lucky to find their jobs at the egg farm, they knew it would be difficult to find somewhere that would take them both on, and they could work together. So they want to stick at it, as a thank you to Ged's parents who own the farm.
"Here he comes," Ann was first to spot the tractor pulling up. The girls loved it when Ged came to see them. He was the village heartthrob. In he strode, with a big smile on his face.
Sarah stood up, and her heart melted each time she saw Ged smile. Why couldn't all men be like Ged she thought to herself.
"Ladies..."
"Geeeeeeeed," the girls knew the routine.
"Beautiful morning?"
"Geeeeeeeed"
"I'm looking for a few eggs, don't suppose you've seen any laying around?"
He gave Sarah a wink. She was his favourite, but he found the company of both girls always to be pleasant.
"I don't think we have, have we Annie? Not around here mind," she looked over to her friend. Both girls radiated when Ged came to see them. They would get a bit of rose in their cheeks.
"How's the driving going girls?"
"Bloody nightmare," Sarah put her hands in her pockets to try to help them warm up a bit while she chatted with Ged.
"Why's that?"
"I'll tell you why young Ged," she liked to remind him when she could that he was actually younger than her, even if by a few days. The three of them were very close in age. "It's all those bloody manoeuvres." She liked to emphasise the "oooo" in her manoeuvres.
"Why?"
"Because, where Ged, do we need to do the stupid things around here? It's madness."
"She's got a good point Ged," Ann felt similar to her friend about reversing, "It does seem a bit unnecessary when we know we can just do a taxi-turn."
"The good old taxi-turn," Ged smiled at them, "Where would we be without it eh girls?"
"A bit further down the road I'd imagine." Sarah smiled her bestest smile to Ged.
"As ever, you talk a lot of sense Sarah," Ged started to carry over some of the egg trays to his trailer.
"Take care with those eggs Ged, we know what you are like with your heavy hands," Ann turned around to her friend and raised her eyebrows to her.
"I know what I'd like him to do with those heavy hands," Sarah softly added to her friend while Ged had his back turned. The girls laughed.
"I'll have you two know, that these hands can pick up 6 eggs in each hand," he waved them to his friends.
"Get away Ged, no you can't," Ann was having none of it.
"I'm telling you Ann."
"Well you know what they say about a boy with big hands don't you Ged?" Sarah was stood with her hands on her hips now, looking at him with a cheeky smile on her face.
Ged met her stare, but lost his nerve and started to go red in the face. He turned towards the pile of egg trays, "Naughty, you girls are very naughty."
"Roundabout!" Sarah and Ann sang in a chorus.
It was a little ritual that they have developed over the months of picking up eggs. When they were feeling super happy, they would perform a little harmonic duet.
Each tray of eggs, represents one tenth of a driving lesson (they worked out earlier in the Spring that they normally do about 10 roundabouts per driving lesson. At their hourly rate, it takes them ten egg trays to pay for one driving lesson). It was a way for the girls to stay motivated in their work. It was back-breaking work and so cold in the winter months. But perhaps the worst thing was the awful dust in the air. Gulps of water, little and often helped, but you couldn't gulp too much down, as it just made you go to the loo all the time and you would miss your daily target of eggs.
North Wales was a beautiful place to live, both of the girls knew that, but it was rather limited in the hope it could offer them for long term employment. They needed mobility - hence the driving lessons. But it was so incredibly expensive.
They started picking up eggs in February. February 10th to be precise. Ann remembers it well as it was the day her dog died. She had left Sammy, the family golden labrador that morning, at 4.30am, not knowing then, that she would never see him alive again. It brings a tear to her eye every time she thinks about him. 'See you later Sammy' were the last words she said to her dog. She used to take him back an egg to put in some milk, just as a treat. She missed her dog so much. That was the worst day of her 17 years so far. Sarah really helped her get through that grief.
Roll on 4 months later, and here they are, in the cold, dusty, noisy brick house, picking up eggs. Hundreds, thousands of them. The two girls have been doing this for 6 days solid, every single week. Seventeen they may be, but it still breaks your back by the end of the shift. "Can I have a 'break back Big Mac' please?" is the girls' little joke they say when they go to McDonalds. The egg farm supplies the food chain, so whenever they go to their local outlet, the staff there know what's coming. The two girls are well known in the village. They've known each other all their young lives. They will remain friends to "the day we die" is what they say.
They took their driving theory tests on their birthdays. Ann was in January, and Sarah a few weeks later. They were very lucky to find their jobs at the egg farm, they knew it would be difficult to find somewhere that would take them both on, and they could work together. So they want to stick at it, as a thank you to Ged's parents who own the farm.
"Here he comes," Ann was first to spot the tractor pulling up. The girls loved it when Ged came to see them. He was the village heartthrob. In he strode, with a big smile on his face.
Sarah stood up, and her heart melted each time she saw Ged smile. Why couldn't all men be like Ged she thought to herself.
"Ladies..."
"Geeeeeeeed," the girls knew the routine.
"Beautiful morning?"
"Geeeeeeeed"
"I'm looking for a few eggs, don't suppose you've seen any laying around?"
He gave Sarah a wink. She was his favourite, but he found the company of both girls always to be pleasant.
"I don't think we have, have we Annie? Not around here mind," she looked over to her friend. Both girls radiated when Ged came to see them. They would get a bit of rose in their cheeks.
"How's the driving going girls?"
"Bloody nightmare," Sarah put her hands in her pockets to try to help them warm up a bit while she chatted with Ged.
"Why's that?"
"I'll tell you why young Ged," she liked to remind him when she could that he was actually younger than her, even if by a few days. The three of them were very close in age. "It's all those bloody manoeuvres." She liked to emphasise the "oooo" in her manoeuvres.
"Why?"
"Because, where Ged, do we need to do the stupid things around here? It's madness."
"She's got a good point Ged," Ann felt similar to her friend about reversing, "It does seem a bit unnecessary when we know we can just do a taxi-turn."
"The good old taxi-turn," Ged smiled at them, "Where would we be without it eh girls?"
"A bit further down the road I'd imagine." Sarah smiled her bestest smile to Ged.
"As ever, you talk a lot of sense Sarah," Ged started to carry over some of the egg trays to his trailer.
"Take care with those eggs Ged, we know what you are like with your heavy hands," Ann turned around to her friend and raised her eyebrows to her.
"I know what I'd like him to do with those heavy hands," Sarah softly added to her friend while Ged had his back turned. The girls laughed.
"I'll have you two know, that these hands can pick up 6 eggs in each hand," he waved them to his friends.
"Get away Ged, no you can't," Ann was having none of it.
"I'm telling you Ann."
"Well you know what they say about a boy with big hands don't you Ged?" Sarah was stood with her hands on her hips now, looking at him with a cheeky smile on her face.
Ged met her stare, but lost his nerve and started to go red in the face. He turned towards the pile of egg trays, "Naughty, you girls are very naughty."
Friday 13 December 2019
Authenticating what you say
A very interesting discussion with a pupil recently centred around blind spot checks.
Roughly, it went along the following lines:
I was attempting to show him the difference between 'chin to shoulder' observations vs blindspot checks
The resistance came for two reasons:
a) he felt that he did turn his head sufficiently for a blind spot check (I thought he did not)
b) is a blind spot check really necessary
It's interesting because what we think we do, we don't necessarily do. This was demonstrated very nicely within some CPD I did where I thought (as an instructor) I was doing a blindspot check, but as my trainer stated, I was not.
<This is covered in a previous blog>
Look for a sight of the right ear, by the way, a good clue.
As such, when you know you are right (you must know you are correct), then the question comes down to, "Are you going to listen to my feedback or not?"
It's quite a good and valid question.
Point b though is good. Is it actually necessary? Nice question. Rarely do pupils say this, but they most definitely think it.
This becomes a question of chance, risk, gambit, odds.
That is a personal chance.
Please don't attempt to transfer your own opinion at this point. That is a very common mistake to make. For some, not only will your advice be unwelcome, but honestly, this is the stuff that turns customers away. At this point, all I can respectfully ask my reader to acknowledge is the benefit of experience. As a writer, I can only assume you wish to improve your ability by taking the trouble actually to read this blog. Franchisees for BIG TOM automatically receive these pointers, it's automatic. Don't under-estimate the quality of this information.
As such, be strong, you have facts, data, the research behind you. De-personalise this if you need to. Show DVSA publications. It's vital as you are authenticating what you say.
Roughly, it went along the following lines:
I was attempting to show him the difference between 'chin to shoulder' observations vs blindspot checks
The resistance came for two reasons:
a) he felt that he did turn his head sufficiently for a blind spot check (I thought he did not)
b) is a blind spot check really necessary
It's interesting because what we think we do, we don't necessarily do. This was demonstrated very nicely within some CPD I did where I thought (as an instructor) I was doing a blindspot check, but as my trainer stated, I was not.
<This is covered in a previous blog>
Look for a sight of the right ear, by the way, a good clue.
As such, when you know you are right (you must know you are correct), then the question comes down to, "Are you going to listen to my feedback or not?"
It's quite a good and valid question.
Point b though is good. Is it actually necessary? Nice question. Rarely do pupils say this, but they most definitely think it.
This becomes a question of chance, risk, gambit, odds.
That is a personal chance.
Please don't attempt to transfer your own opinion at this point. That is a very common mistake to make. For some, not only will your advice be unwelcome, but honestly, this is the stuff that turns customers away. At this point, all I can respectfully ask my reader to acknowledge is the benefit of experience. As a writer, I can only assume you wish to improve your ability by taking the trouble actually to read this blog. Franchisees for BIG TOM automatically receive these pointers, it's automatic. Don't under-estimate the quality of this information.
As such, be strong, you have facts, data, the research behind you. De-personalise this if you need to. Show DVSA publications. It's vital as you are authenticating what you say.
... has that dog had it all again?
"Mum? Mum? Sorry Mum. But I can't sleep," Lucy felt sick.
"What? Why?"
"Don't know. Think it's because of the test."
"Bloody hell Lucy-Lou, you had me worried there." Sheila started to sit up into her bed. She patted the mattress and smiled at her daughter.
Lucy sat down with a big sigh, "I don't know what's wrong with me."
"It's my fault darling, I'm exactly the same. I can't take tests for toffee. I remember once I had to do a test in drama, I only had 3 lines to remember. One of them was: 'But where? Where should we run? Where should we hide? It's all too much...' Mum raised the back of her hand to her forehead in mock distress.
"Yea? And what happened?"
"Instead of that line, I said one of the others."
"What did you say instead?"
"I can't find the milk, has that dog had it all again?"
Both of them laughed.
"Bloody hell you two," Mike was stirring, and smiling from what he had just heard. "What are you playing at? Do you realise the sodding time?"
"It's your daughter; she's worried about her driving test."
Lucy whispered, "Sorry Dad, go back to sleep."
"I wish I bloody could, I've got sodding Meryl sodding Streep here by the sodding side of me."
Mum winked at Lucy. She mouthed, "He loves me really."
"Do you think I'm going to pass Mum?"
"The only thing you'll be passing is wind if you're anything like your Mum in stressful situations." He was awake now, he turned to see the two most precious beings in his life. He was a very lucky man, and he knew it.
"You'll be fine hun, listen, if I can pass the bloody thing, anyone can."
"Yea, but it's changed a lot since when you took it, Mum."
"Excuse me, madam, it's not changed that much, if you don't mind."
"It has Sheila," Mike had a workmate who only had a test last week and he has been listening to him talk about it on the run-up. Half of the stuff he has spoken about, Mike has not even understood. "They cover all sorts of shit now, that we didn't have to do."
"Like what?"
"Block changes."
"What's a block change when it's at home," Sheila eyed Lucy and twiddled her finger around the side of her head, nodding towards Mike. "He's going mad, your Dad."
Lucy knew this one and wanted to show her knowledge to her Dad, "It's when you miss out a gear eh Dad?"
"She's a clever lass, my girl," Mike gave her a wink. Sheila rolled her eyes.
"I never had any problem missing out gears when I was learning," said Sheila, "I sometimes missed the brakes and if I was really on form, I could even miss pedestrians."
Lucy smiled at her Mum. There was nothing that Lucy could ever say to her Mum that could not get sorted out.
"But cyclists, my instructor thingy used to say 'that was a bridge too far'. I never did know what he meant by that, especially as I could never see a bridge when he said it."
"Ladies, is it too much to ask that I could possibly be given the opportunity to rest my head?"
"Course Dad.... sorry. Love you, you two," she stood up.
Mike opened his eyes to see the young, innocent face of his daughter as she bent to kiss her Mum and then turned to leave. 'Not half as much as I love you my treasure' he thought to himself.
"You will be fine in the morning love," Sheila smiled at her daughter, "Just you try and get some sleep, it will all turn out just fine, you see."
"What? Why?"
"Don't know. Think it's because of the test."
"Bloody hell Lucy-Lou, you had me worried there." Sheila started to sit up into her bed. She patted the mattress and smiled at her daughter.
Lucy sat down with a big sigh, "I don't know what's wrong with me."
"It's my fault darling, I'm exactly the same. I can't take tests for toffee. I remember once I had to do a test in drama, I only had 3 lines to remember. One of them was: 'But where? Where should we run? Where should we hide? It's all too much...' Mum raised the back of her hand to her forehead in mock distress.
"Yea? And what happened?"
"Instead of that line, I said one of the others."
"What did you say instead?"
"I can't find the milk, has that dog had it all again?"
Both of them laughed.
"Bloody hell you two," Mike was stirring, and smiling from what he had just heard. "What are you playing at? Do you realise the sodding time?"
"It's your daughter; she's worried about her driving test."
Lucy whispered, "Sorry Dad, go back to sleep."
"I wish I bloody could, I've got sodding Meryl sodding Streep here by the sodding side of me."
Mum winked at Lucy. She mouthed, "He loves me really."
"Do you think I'm going to pass Mum?"
"The only thing you'll be passing is wind if you're anything like your Mum in stressful situations." He was awake now, he turned to see the two most precious beings in his life. He was a very lucky man, and he knew it.
"You'll be fine hun, listen, if I can pass the bloody thing, anyone can."
"Yea, but it's changed a lot since when you took it, Mum."
"Excuse me, madam, it's not changed that much, if you don't mind."
"It has Sheila," Mike had a workmate who only had a test last week and he has been listening to him talk about it on the run-up. Half of the stuff he has spoken about, Mike has not even understood. "They cover all sorts of shit now, that we didn't have to do."
"Like what?"
"Block changes."
"What's a block change when it's at home," Sheila eyed Lucy and twiddled her finger around the side of her head, nodding towards Mike. "He's going mad, your Dad."
Lucy knew this one and wanted to show her knowledge to her Dad, "It's when you miss out a gear eh Dad?"
"She's a clever lass, my girl," Mike gave her a wink. Sheila rolled her eyes.
"I never had any problem missing out gears when I was learning," said Sheila, "I sometimes missed the brakes and if I was really on form, I could even miss pedestrians."
Lucy smiled at her Mum. There was nothing that Lucy could ever say to her Mum that could not get sorted out.
"But cyclists, my instructor thingy used to say 'that was a bridge too far'. I never did know what he meant by that, especially as I could never see a bridge when he said it."
"Ladies, is it too much to ask that I could possibly be given the opportunity to rest my head?"
"Course Dad.... sorry. Love you, you two," she stood up.
Mike opened his eyes to see the young, innocent face of his daughter as she bent to kiss her Mum and then turned to leave. 'Not half as much as I love you my treasure' he thought to himself.
"You will be fine in the morning love," Sheila smiled at her daughter, "Just you try and get some sleep, it will all turn out just fine, you see."
Tuesday 10 December 2019
Friday 6 December 2019
Raining behind my eyes
While approaching a zebra crossing, 55-year-old driving instructor John attempts to help his pupil Sophie:
"You see the pedestrians on the left Sophie, approaching the zebra crossing?"
Sophie rolls her eyes and draws a heavy sigh: "Yes, thank you, John, I do see the pedestrians on the left. Do you though, John?"
"It's possible that they may cross in which case you will need to pause."
"Not until they are ACTUALLY, ACTUALLY on the crossing thank you John."
John makes a mental note to go over that knowledge gap with Sophie. As they draw nearer, a young child from the group breaks free from holding hands and runs towards the crossing.
"Slower Sophie, brakes.... brakes...."
John uses the dual-controls brakes pedal near his feet.
"Get off me!"
"Sorry?" The car comes to a controlled stop.
"You just touched me!"
"No, I didn't, I just used the brakes to slow the car down for that young lad."
"But I could sense through my foot that you had done that, and I don't much appreciate it."
The pedestrians began to walk across the zebra crossing, and Mum puts up her hand towards John, and mouths slowly and silently "Sorry". John smiles and raises his hand towards her.
"That is so gross," Sophie interjects, "do you have no morals at all?"
"I'm just acknowledging the mother Sophie, that's all." Sophie began to move the car off again.
"Yeah, right. If that's what you want to call it. And you really shouldn't assume the gender of the little one either John."
"What do you mean?"
"You called the little one a "young lad", didn't you."
"Because he is Sophie, you can tell he is."
"No you can't John, and you really should try harder not to allow your white male privilege to discriminate against innocent passers-by who have done absolutely nothing to deserve your oppressive bias."
"What is he if he's not a boy, Sophie?"
"Well that is a good question, John, and maybe you should start asking yourself that kind of question before you make your assumptions. How do you ALSO know John, that is the mother of that child? There you go again making assumptions. And what gives you the right to smile and gesticulate towards her?"
"Well she said 'sorry'"
"Did she though?"
"Yes. Why don't you pull over Sophie, as I'm sensing that you are not happy about something."
As Sophie pulls the car over she says "Yes, that's right, subject me to more of your passive-aggressive adulting all in the name of 'driving instruction'."
"Why do you say that?"
"You assume that I haven't seen the pedestrians. I had John. If you had just kept quiet and allowed me some personal space I would have handled that all perfectly well without any "help" from you. I may have been too young to prevent you all from ruining my generations' lives in the vote, but I'm not too young to have a voice now John."
"The vote Sophie?"
"Yes, you know, when all the reckless old people in this country decided my destiny for generations to come, without giving me any say in the unmitigated disaster of doom that you have created."
"Me?"
"You and old people like you, John."
John sat back, looked out at the rain falling on the front windscreen and felt it starting to rain behind his eyes. He began to daydream about having a lovely meal later with his darling wife.....
"You see the pedestrians on the left Sophie, approaching the zebra crossing?"
Sophie rolls her eyes and draws a heavy sigh: "Yes, thank you, John, I do see the pedestrians on the left. Do you though, John?"
"It's possible that they may cross in which case you will need to pause."
"Not until they are ACTUALLY, ACTUALLY on the crossing thank you John."
John makes a mental note to go over that knowledge gap with Sophie. As they draw nearer, a young child from the group breaks free from holding hands and runs towards the crossing.
"Slower Sophie, brakes.... brakes...."
John uses the dual-controls brakes pedal near his feet.
"Get off me!"
"Sorry?" The car comes to a controlled stop.
"You just touched me!"
"No, I didn't, I just used the brakes to slow the car down for that young lad."
"But I could sense through my foot that you had done that, and I don't much appreciate it."
The pedestrians began to walk across the zebra crossing, and Mum puts up her hand towards John, and mouths slowly and silently "Sorry". John smiles and raises his hand towards her.
"That is so gross," Sophie interjects, "do you have no morals at all?"
"I'm just acknowledging the mother Sophie, that's all." Sophie began to move the car off again.
"Yeah, right. If that's what you want to call it. And you really shouldn't assume the gender of the little one either John."
"What do you mean?"
"You called the little one a "young lad", didn't you."
"Because he is Sophie, you can tell he is."
"No you can't John, and you really should try harder not to allow your white male privilege to discriminate against innocent passers-by who have done absolutely nothing to deserve your oppressive bias."
"What is he if he's not a boy, Sophie?"
"Well that is a good question, John, and maybe you should start asking yourself that kind of question before you make your assumptions. How do you ALSO know John, that is the mother of that child? There you go again making assumptions. And what gives you the right to smile and gesticulate towards her?"
"Well she said 'sorry'"
"Did she though?"
"Yes. Why don't you pull over Sophie, as I'm sensing that you are not happy about something."
As Sophie pulls the car over she says "Yes, that's right, subject me to more of your passive-aggressive adulting all in the name of 'driving instruction'."
"Why do you say that?"
"You assume that I haven't seen the pedestrians. I had John. If you had just kept quiet and allowed me some personal space I would have handled that all perfectly well without any "help" from you. I may have been too young to prevent you all from ruining my generations' lives in the vote, but I'm not too young to have a voice now John."
"The vote Sophie?"
"Yes, you know, when all the reckless old people in this country decided my destiny for generations to come, without giving me any say in the unmitigated disaster of doom that you have created."
"Me?"
"You and old people like you, John."
John sat back, looked out at the rain falling on the front windscreen and felt it starting to rain behind his eyes. He began to daydream about having a lovely meal later with his darling wife.....
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