I will hunt you down and christ you've aged badly

You know when it is going to be one of those days don't you.  The day you wake with a hangover and you've not had a drink for over 3 months ( how does that happen?!)

The day you pick your mother up and the conversation starts 'did I tell you about....'  and your answer 'yes, many times' is conveniently not heard and the pace of repeated stories continues until your head is going to explode.

The day you follow a large car into a car park with a roof top box and you know it won't fit under the barrier. The barrier is on chains and you watch it drag along the top of the car in front and then swing precariously on its chains and you wonder if it will fall off and hit you as you pass underneath.  It slowly creeps up the ramp missing the concrete ceiling by millimetres and scraping every sign.

You parp your horn at it 3 times. The first to say 'dude, you're going to lose your box on the roof.' The second to say 'Hey idiot, if you're happy to lose your box on the roof could you hurry up and get on with it'. The third time to say 'hey, twat for brains at least pull over and let the rest of us come by you'.  On the disabled parking floor (which is entirely empty with large lanes and wide bays - so a huge empty space) you go around the car at about 10 miles an hour and the other driver looks at you like you are drag racing.

You get into the theatre and immediately bump into people you really would prefer not to. The person your age whose complete set of GCSE results you can still remember better than your own because they are the ones you were compared against by your mother continually for weeks after results day. The snooty partner  of said person who looked down their nose at you for years at school and then the misery of the years when they continued to do it as you ended up in the same workplace: 'Oh yes, haven't you done well, large house and stables.  Lovely.  Yes, how dreadful you couldn't ride the hunt this year because of injuries, I'm so sorry.' And the only thought carrying me through the excruciating conversation is 'Christ you've aged badly, you used to be gorgeous!' - yes, I am THAT shallow.

The theatre show is mediocre at best, Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee are sat 2 seats away from you on the same row 'Yes, yes, marvellous isn't it, oh amazing voices, yes I'm really enjoying it' I hear myself saying whilst thinking cockroach eating is feeling like a pleasant alternative to this.

Your mother insists that you can't leave the theatre until the queuing traffic outside has cleared 'Because we may as well sit here enjoying conversation as sit in a queue of traffic. Have I told you about....'  Dear Lord, kill me now.

And you finally arrive back to your car in a completely empty car park to find a note saying 'if you ever put my child's life at risk again I will hunt you down, I have your registration number and I have reported you to the police'

There's lovely then. I wonder if the violent threat was their advice?

Joy to the World.