No car today. That's okay, I thought. I'll get bus to work. Bus service not running during week any more. Live out in sticks. 'S'alright, I thought. I'll walk.
Set off at brisk pace. Lots of up-and-downy, winding roads. No pavements. Teeming with boy-racers. (Note to self: will adhere rigidly to 30ph limit in future). Start panting.
Half hour in. Thought I'd be there by now. Only takes ten minutes in car. Can feel blisters hatching. Face takes on unattractive sheen. Cheeks glowing like beacons. Lorry full of builder-types pass shouting 'Oy-oy!' Give me lift, I plead silently. Won't mention bum-cracks and Language.
Have to keep weaving to avoid being flung in ditch.
An hour in, try to phone ahead. No signal. Live in sticks. Try to phone taxi. No signal. Live in sticks. Plod on. Consider hitchhiking in seventies-retro style - tugging skirt up, revealing toned, tanned leg. Reconsider. Legs not tanned or toned. Plus, wearing trousers. Also, Psycho Jim probably choose today for killing spree. Feel blisters burst. Tearful.
Ten minutes later. Will anyone take pity on me? Respectable looking lady. Got my cardi on. Try appealing to drivers with eyes. Sweaty, shiny look probably not respectable. Reach Golf Club. Why aren't I there yet? Sodding miles to go. Got phone signal at last. Give in. Ring taxi. Only got £4 in purse, costs £4.40. Nice lady driver senses pain. Lets me off.
Stumble into library, wild of hair and eye. Only several hours late. Ready for cup of tea and lie-down, but have to do work. Colleagues take mickey. Bloody cheek of it. Nice colleague offers lift home. Normally polite, say no don't worry. This time, fell on her weeping with gratitude. Will not be walking Molly-dog far today.
Will not be walking to work ever again.