Words simply fail me. The huuuuge 4x4 in front of me comes to a stop. She has obviously switched the engine off because there are no stop lights, or hazards, or indicators. She has come to a dead halt in the middle of a one-way street. She exits from on high... hair just so; make-up just so; jewelry dangling; tight, tight jeans (how does she sit in those?); 6-inch heels (how does she drive in those?); she has obviously spent a great deal of time on her appearance this morning. (I am still in my pyjama pants and havent brushed my hair yet). She closes her door. What??!! She opens the passenger door behind the drivers seat and little person tries to make his way down the steep incline. (He is NOT sitting on the left hand side where he can make a quick exit onto the pavement... oh no). He finally makes it onto terra firma. She takes one look at him and decides his tie is not right (did nanny dress him this morning?). She takes his blazer off and ties his tie again. At this point the traffic has built up behind me... down the road... round the corner... I can hear hooting in the distance. She puts his blazer back on; opens the back of the vehicle and gets his satchel out; puts it on him; walks him onto the pavement; kisses him; hugs him. Saunters back to her vehicle. Starts the car. She still hasnt finished... she looks back and blows 20 kisses. THEN she takes off. My flabber is gasted. My grandchildren sit on the left hand side of the car with their satchels on their backs, and when we come to a stop it takes them exactly 1 second to get out, close the door, and step onto the pavement. She is certainly teaching him about his sense of entitlement. And she probably believes she cares a lot...
Posted on: Sun, 02 Nov 2014 07:11:14 +0000
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