Monday, 30 June 2014


So Mr M scraped the car yesterday, making a hash of what can only be described as the world's simplest parking manoeuvre: driving straight forwards into an empty space. The embarrassing conversation with our insurers (its my policy) followed thus: "Can you describe the incident?" Me: he was parking the car and hit another car. "I see. Was there anything obscuring his vision?" Me: No. "Was the other car over the dividing line?" Me: No. "Were there any other factors involved?" Me: No, it was an empty car park.

I could feel a mix of disdain and sympathy that I am married to such an eejit emanating from the phone.

You might think, that with the car being only 4 months old, that I might have reacted somewhat angrily to my husband putting a dent in my shiny new car. Thankfully, I looked at him before letting loose the torrent of abuse about to spring forth from my lips. I could see instantly how sorry he was, how there was nothing at all I could say to make him feel any worse than he already did. I'm quite proud of myself as I'm not normally known for my self-control and understanding in heated situations (as my colleague who made the mistake of telling me he was 'tired' after I had had 6 months of broken sleep could attest. He still won't sit next to me in meetings and jumps at loud noises.) So I gave him a big hug instead and said don't worry, we'll sort it.

He obviously felt terrible about it as he was very subdued all day. Until I surprised him in the kitchen later with a guaranteed way of putting a smile on his face.

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