That's a new one...

... excuse that is!

The excuse in question was "I'm sorry mate, I just got up too early this morning." Why is it that even though you've never met them, some people still insist on calling you mate? Anyway back to the excuse in question. These were the first words of the guy who ran into the back of my car in Stockport on Satruday lunchtime. Luckily there were no dents, but the paint work at the back of my car is now scratched and scuffed.

To be fair he was very apologetic about it all. I need to find out how much it is going to cost to fix and then send him the bill. He doesn't want to go through his insurace company he was desperate to keep his no clais bonus. Something I can sympathise with having lost mine once already.

Still what an excuse eh? There are a number of really angry and cutting remarks that filled my head at that point, but I frankly didn't see the use in venting any of them. The damage (literally) was already done. I just wished he'd stayed in bed rather than get behind the wheel of a car. My back bumper is a paltry thing compared with... maybe a child instead.

Lyrics of the Day:

So tomorrow there will be another number,
for the one who had a name.
A desert wind and a perverse desire to win,
history buried in shame.

Are those beating drums,
celebration guns.
The thunder and the laughter,
The last thing they remember.

And then the next day,
how will you know your enemy,
by their colour or your fear.
One by one you can cage them in your freedom,
make them all disappear.

Are those beating drums,
celebration guns.
The thunder and the laughter,
The last thing they remember.

Goodnight, sleep light, stranger

Celebration Guns ~ Stars (I like the whole song, so sue me!)