A fine mess
I’ve had it. One split second’s all it took
To bring that threatening letter in the post,
Informing me they’re going to throw the book
At me. They have the evidence. I’m toast.
Last week, they claim, they clocked me cruising by
At thirty-five, although the limit’s thirty.
They’ve got me cold: the camera doesn’t lie;
Just leaves me feeling stupid. Shameful. Dirty.
So now I have a choice: stump up the fine
And take three points; or spend three hours in school
To gain Awareness, learn to toe the line.
Whichever way you slice it, I’m a fool.
A momentary lapse, but it’s too late
To go back now, ease off – and concentrate.
It was a fair cop. It was evening, I’d been up since before six, and my brain was fried after a day of meetings discussing, editing and restructuring a 400-page document. Took my eye off the speedo, didn’t see the camera van lurking in the lay-by till it was too late. No excuse. First offence in 20 years, during which time I’m sure I’ve exceeded the speed limit on at least a couple of occasions…so, I’ll take it on the chin, hand over my hard-earned for a half-day’s Driver Awareness Training, and be more careful in future. It’s so easy to become complacent about driving; I’m already thinking that a wake-up call like this perhaps isn’t such a bad thing after all, and I definitely feel better about it for ‘fessing up here. As a wise man once said: experience might be the best teacher, but the costs of that kind of schoolin’ can run awful high. N.