23 Hours

In 2000, I got my driving licence. I was a couple of years behind my peers, but I'd been in no rush to drive. But at 18, and with a piece of paper to prove I could do it, my next step was to get my hands on a car. Thanks to my then-boss who helped to get me a sweet deal on a new car, I bought myself a Fiat Punto in light blue - a standard model as I could afford no extras and was already working 3 jobs (fit in around uni) to pay for it all.

The big day came and the car arrived. I went to pick it up with my mum and dad and was too scared to drive it home, so I made my dad drive. The next day, I decided I had to try, so I got behind the wheel.

23 hours after my dad drove the car out of the showroom, the car looked anything but new. It smelt new, it sure as hell was new, but it was dented all along the left-hand side, the mirror broken in 3 places hanging on a thread like a dismembered arm. I had misread the situation, misjudged the space and dragged the side of the car all the way along a (parked) Land Rover, in too much shock at what was happening to even think of stopping before I'd damaged all three side panels of the car.

I had no spare money to fix the car, so it remained... dented, a permanent reminder of that embarrassing day. I eventually started driving again (it took a while to get back into the car and trust myself not to completely wreck the car on a second attempt), and although the story is always a very amusing self-depreciating tale to tell, I've spent ten years driving terrified that it'll happen again, always leaving miles of unnecessary space on the left-hand side of the car.

But lately I've noticed a change. I'm not terrified any longer. I'm barely even scared. I'm cautious, sure, but that's probably a good thing. I can drive through a tight spot and keep breathing. Not missing a heartbeat, or two. It's taken ten years to get to this point (boy does that make me feel old!!!). I can't say I haven't enjoyed driving in the meantime, but it certainly offers the possibility of enjoying it a whole lot more!

I can't promise to drive closer to whatever there is on my left though - I might just have to live with that one!

[The photo was taken - by Cora (right) - in July 2005, after one of our trips to Bugibba for delicious pancakes!]

The Saturdays had the greatest fun...

When my sister, Denise, and I were at school, we learnt poems off by heart. Denise was far better at it than I was. She still remembers most of those poems to this very day. A while back, one particular poem that we really loved popped into my head. But, typically, I could only remember the first line and couldn't for the life of me find it anywhere online.

I emailed it to Denise, and asked her to continue it. Within minutes, I had the entire poem in my inbox (although she claims she's forgotten the fifth paragraph). Whenever I read it, it makes me smile, and I thought I'd share it with you today. I wonder if any of you have ever heard it..?



The Saturdays' Party in Fairyland
M. C. Davies

All the Saturdays met one day
Each was very polite they say;
They shook each other by the hand
And had a party in fairyland.

They wouldn't let any Mondays in
And not one Tuesday at all could win
Her way past the supercilious crowd.
And Wednesdays - why they weren't allowed!

Thursdays could only stand in the street
And look through the door at the things to eat,
And the Fridays and Sundays pretended they
Didn't like parties anyway.

But the Saturdays had the greatest fun!
They played hopskotch and run-sheep-run,
And frog-in-the-meadow and pull-away,
And all the games they wanted to play.

And after they'd played and played and played
They had pink straws in their lemonade.
And the cookies and tarts were like a dream,
And all the Saturdays had ice cream!

I'd my doubts when I heard and you'll have yours,
But strange things happen on foreign shores,
And they say the best fête ever planned
Was the Saturday's party in fairyland.


Have a wonderful Saturday! x

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