Wednesday 4 October 2023

Driving Force

Hello, dear reader!

I’ve been watching the odd snippet of the Conservative Party Conference and the reactions to the same this week. The rampant, self serving ableism, transgenderism, racism, and regionalism made a change from slapping myself around the head with my own orthotic boot, while providing the same masochistic thrill, blinding headache, and loss of intelligence and, as a bonus, left me with a piquant and enduring aftertaste of my own vomit, to boot.

And of course, one of the many headlines buried by the mainstream media about the conference have to do with transport—namely the HS2 sunken cost debacle which seems to have come uncoupled somewhere not all that far north of The Watford Gap—But that isn’t the transport I want to write about today.

No, today I want to discuss ambulances.

Smooth Moves
Well, not all ambulances. In fact, I suppose not any ambulances. This has less to do with the vehicle and more to do with the driver, and of the many, many drivers and technicians busily saving lives, one newly fledged one in particular. My super-duper Step-daughter, Sarah.


Now, Sarah graduated as a paramedic some fifteen months ago, and has been busily making London a safer, healthier place ever since. This week, however, she passed her C1 driving test and will presently be learning to drive an ambulance at speed with all the evasive manoeuvres that entails.

Makes Perfect
Now, Sarah passed her driving test before she even started university, and, living in central London, as she did when living the ‘dirty student’ lifestyle (not something I’ve done myself, but I’m led to believe copious amounts of vodka, and the odd pot noodle may be involved—Oh, and some kind of learning is somewhere in there too), she hasn’t, perhaps had the ideal amount of practice in even what you might call ‘normal’ driving. 


Learning to shift a three and a half tonne (minimum) vehicle at high speed around the congested streets of the nation’s capital in such a short time, therefore, is nothing short of a miraculous achievement, and something that makes me extremely proud in that second hand way parents (including steps) often get to feel (all the glory, none of the effort—bonus).

Turbo Lift
Of course, the change, from this seat, feels monumental, and only adds to the small spikes of worry I, and especially Tina, my wúnder-wifey feel (Tina has the capability to switch to full mama-bear mode with amazing speed at any suggestion of Sarah facing the least challenge. You can imagine why she’s not writing this one). Knowing Sarah for the last thirteen years of her still young life, and the support she has around her, I can’t help but think that this will be just another challenge taken in her stride.

Is that enough praise to earn a high-speed lift?


Until next time…


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Hey, there! If you enjoyed reading any of the above, why not take a look at some of my published work? Below you’ll find links to a number of short stories I’m lucky enough to have included in anthologies. I’d love to know what you think


New Tales Of Old


Death Ship


Pestilence: Drabbles 1


Reaperman: Drabbles 3


The Musketeers Vs Cthulhu


Eldritch Investigations

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