Stationary Traffic

Today has been RUBBISH. No other word (apart from four-letter ones) to describe it.

I woke in melancholy mood. Maybe I'd been dreaming something that caused it. I had thoughts in my head that I keep trying to suppress, to shut out, because they make me sad.

I got on the scales to discover that I am now, officially, obese. That word only added to my sense of melancholy.

Then a bright spot - I phoned my Dad to say Happy Father's Day. He didn't know what it was for, or even that it was Father's Day, but it was nice to chat anyway.

I spent 2 hours trying to force some work on composition of isometries into my head. It was slow going. I listened to the Magic Flute while I was doing it. The beauty of the music only added to my sense of melancholy.

I really didn't feel like getting dressed into real clothes and going out, but I know from experience that it usually helps. Furthermore, I was going to see the fabulous James Rhodes again, meet up with more new twitter friends, and see some lovely ones I've met before.

Except we never got there, because of what you see on this picture. A five-car pile up near High Wycombe on the M40 meant we sat in a boiling car in stationary traffic for over an hour. The Triple Concerto played on the car stereo, which further enhanced the melancholy.

By the time we were sitting in yet another traffic jam on the outskirts of London it was obvious we would not make the end of the gig, let alone the start, so we turned and headed for home. All hope had now evaporated, and we resigned ourselves to wasting £30 worth of tickets and half a tank of petrol. An hour and a half after we'd started moving again, there was still stationary traffic 7 miles back from the accident and there were queues as far back as the Oxford turn.

So, after 5 hours in a hot car, travelling at an average speed of 26 miles an hour, we got home.

The Wonderspouse has gone to the kitchen to make a pie out of the remains of last night's roast duck.

In a minute, I shall change out of my real clothes and back into my scruffy comfy ones and drink a large glass of wine.

I shall also eat the emergency chocolate buttons.

No more effort today. I give in.