An appointment in London, on a broiler of a day. 32 degrees and rising. However, in the spirit of chumminess I'd agreed to ride along with Dearest, who, as usual, was struggling to catch up the missing ten minutes in his day. Traffic lights smiled green; we avoided a reversing driver with a yee-hi as our wagon swerved masterfully. A parking spot next to the pay machine on the outer circle road by York Gate. The gods were with us.
As we negotiated the pay machine, a bloke in his thirties and smartly dressed, spoke loudly on his mobile. He sounded as though he was as hot and and bothered as the rest of us. Seemingly irritated with the friend who was late in picking him up. He was standing by the boot of our car.
Dearest glared at him. As if he were deliberately invading our personal space. He moved away. We locked the car, but there was something strange with the locking response. It was almost three o'clock..
"You stay here. There was something odd about that bloke. I've got to go."
Aha! I am the defender-in-chief of our car. Not a great track record, if you'll recall the carjacking of my mini.. However, heady with this sudden promotion, I thought I would sit in the driver's seat. This was on the basis I would make a potential carjacking look less enticing, because of my big personality. Not to mention my tendency to scowl when sitting in a large overheated car.
As I strolled round to the driver's side, I could see that the passenger door behind the driver had been opened. Man-on-the-phone had achieved this sleight of hand, as he'd had his loud conversation.
Dear Lord, you need your wits about you..
He must be right pissed off that he didn't get those bags of potting compost in the back.
I would get to plant another hanging basket upon my return. And still have a car! Win win.
I went off in search of my husband, and a little light shopping, as reward for my crime-busting moment.
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