Bitch on the Blog

February 20, 2012


Filed under: Happiness — bitchontheblog @ 00:33
Tags: , , ,

My affair with blogging is doing one of  its usual occasional Ravine rides.

Don’t worry. I am a fantastic driver. I am. Give me Paris, give me Rome, give me Piccadilly Circus on a Friday afternoon. It’s why, on the whole, I prefer to drive  and you may enjoy the scenery. All you  guys out there now feeling emasculated don’t worry: Ever the optimist I will entrust myself to your capable  hands.  Do forgive me when (in the passenger seat and by accident) I slam on my imaginary brakes. I once saved a rabbit. It didn’t go down well with the driver (I actually grabbed his steering wheel): “Never do that again”, he hissed. I didn’t. It was only a little country road. No oncoming traffic. The worst that could have happened to us was ending up in a ditch and be late for Afternoon Tea in a Yorkshire village. What’s a thin cucumber sandwich vs roadkill?

Yes, the Ravine. Have realized that my blog fulfills one function – other than keeping you, my readers – and that is to vent spleens. Spleens need to be vented. It’s what they are for. And why we are only given one, surplus to requirements. The same goes for “appendix”.  A design fault. Of some organs we have spares (say, two kidneys). I wish we’d been given two brains. One for every day, one for Sundays.




  1. I will keep in mind that it will take some additional effort to make certain that the rabbit is proper road kill when you are sitting next to me.

    Comment by Looney — February 20, 2012 @ 02:09 | Reply

    • For a barnacle you are quite cruel, Looney. You could, of course, and as a matter of precaution, always ban me to the back seat. Brings a whole new meaning to “driver”.

      Glad that you seem to have surfaced from your studies of Hebrew. I was most disenchanted when you did your vanishing act in comment boxes. In my teens I had the ambition (oh, the romance of it) to lean Russian later in life (like in ten years time from now). No more. Why would I want to be a Russian speaker in my grave? Will I be buried next to Dostoevsky? Unlikely. And even if: What can he say he hasn’t already told me?

      Bizarrely, and apropos of nothing, I recently fell hook, line and sinker for the sound of Danish. Danish. Am I ticking alright? Who speaks Danish other than the Danes? Love it, love it, love it. Must be the gutturals.




      Comment by Ursula — February 20, 2012 @ 12:03 | Reply

      • U, I did spend a few years as a “Soccer Mom” with a minivan full of kids. There is a certain skill set that develops with this role, especially as they move into the teenage years.

        Ramana has already signed me up for learning Sanskrit, which I believe is the best language to know as you go up in smoke. Before I can do that, however, I must go through the Jewish Orthodox phase.

        My kids had a Russian piano teacher for awhile. The main lesson I wanted to give the kids was that Russian is a personality first, and a language second. U might have some potential as a Russian. I don’t know much about Danish. Is that like Swedish?

        Comment by Looney — February 20, 2012 @ 14:50 | Reply

  2. Oh great… a woman who doesn’t want me to drive and thus artificially show my masculinity…. I have never wanted to drive and rarely found myself thinking that it would be a useful skill for me.
    Yes, in this benighted day and age it is an almost essential life skill but not for me. I did learn once an that is a story in its own right.

    As for venting spleen. I say go for it but please don’t be too obscure and maintain your wonderful ability to vent without using foul language.

    Rabbits?I remember “Uncle” Bernard, Mummy’s friend, stopping his Bedford van, climbing out and dispatching a crouching creature caught in his headlights. Extra meat that weekend. Never forget that the man or woman in the car in front cannot, legally, stop and pick up the pheasant they have just killed. But you can!

    Vent on my dear! Vent on.

    Comment by magpie11 — February 20, 2012 @ 10:57 | Reply

    • I don’t want to drive it home, Magpie, but I do like a good driver.

      My first husband was hopeless. I mean he was a great guy and all that but he didn’t even make an attempt at mastering what, in my eyes, is a life skill. Instead he let me drive him. Which roughly equated that I brought home the bacon too (and cooked it). The same month I (the teenage bride) passed my driving test and bought a car we broke up. Not that the two are connected. Maybe just symbolic. My second husband was one hell of a driver. Though English he could pass as an Italian or German behind the wheel. MAD. Truly mad. But sure handed. Like my brother. With seconds’ precision. Even when I thought he was out of his mind (remind me to tell you how we once got to Ascot, or was it the Regatta, on time, without me puking into my hat) I trusted him. Unfortunately he thought I didn’t [trust his driving skills] but that’s HIS problem. And no rabbits where harmed during the course of our marriage.


      Comment by Ursula — February 20, 2012 @ 12:25 | Reply

      • I learned to drive…. purely because someone said I hadn’t the bottle to get behind the wheel of a car. I had not learned previously because I hadn’t wanted to. As a kid we had no car, we couldn’t afford one and didn’t need one. The public transport system had not been spoiled by people who were spending their excess income on personal transport and in the process were preventing the smooth operation of the system. I did not believe that the sons of cowmen actually had cars….

        I eventually decided that I did not need to waste any more money…. throughout the learning process I had to avoid ignorant, ill mannered and frankly downright dangerous possessors of automobiles too many times to count. When I was informed that I was ready to book my test I asked when I was going to learn about emergency stops, “You’ve had to do so many that there is noting I can teach you,” I was reminded.

        Being pragmatic, I could never see me living anywhere where I would have to be in possession of a driving licence so ….. I stopped. Much more important to own my own home.

        Comment by magpie11 — February 20, 2012 @ 18:38 | Reply

        • Magpie, lesson number One: Never ever try to prove something because someone thinks you are chicken. You don’t like to drive so you don’t like to drive. End of story. No shame in it. A friend of mine incidentally the sister of Husband No 1, must be in the genes, WANTED to drive. Like any true redhead she was determined. She failed three times in a row. After which she wasn’t allowed to take the test again for another year. I don’t know whether she tried again. I dare say she did. Which worries me no end. Who needs drivers like her on the road? It’s dangerous enough as it is.

          You say you don’t NEED a car. Well, I disagree. I love the countryside. How do you actually get into it, away from the mainstream, without your own transport.?And don’t say by bike. To me bikes are a serious risk to your life in today’s traffic conditions, second to none. Far more dangerous than being a pedestrian. I will only hike in countries, say Netherlands, Germany, Scandinavia, where bikers are respected. Where no cost is spared to put up cycle lanes in city centers. Amsterdam being a cyclist’s heaven.

          I am not easily baffled, Magpie, but please do enlighten me: Where does “more important to own my own home” fit behind the driving wheel?


          Comment by Ursula — February 21, 2012 @ 10:02 | Reply

  3. Recently, I wish I had one fully functioning brain. That would be lovely any day of the week. (Oh good, I used “week” rather than “weak.”) Things are looking up.

    Comment by Lorna's Voice — February 20, 2012 @ 21:51 | Reply

    • Well, Lorna, “weak” you ain’t. You are master of giving endless options. Teachers must have loved you. The forerunner of ticking a multiple question choice. OH, do I like your copy’s highlights only to be crossed out. It’s a trademark of yours. Or maybe you are just indecisive. Whatever. Not only does it cause me endless amusement but also to ask why I am laughing in the face of your adversity.


      Comment by Ursula — February 21, 2012 @ 10:12 | Reply

  4. we all think we are a great driver
    generally we are all shit!
    where HONESTLY are u x

    Comment by john — February 20, 2012 @ 22:16 | Reply

    • “We all think we are a great driver” – I was afraid one of you would come up with that old chestnut. Naturally, only a driver around these isles would. Yes, John, you’ve won the prize of the draw: Hugging the fast lane like a long lost relative. The British, with notable exceptions, are rubbish at driving. And I say this with some authority. Apart from Malta they even drive on their own side. Which is endearing but not so good if, like me, you have switch sides every so often. Only those English (generic term including the Welsh) who misspent their formative youthful/useful years mingling with drivers outside Britain will get the hang of how to drive with spirit yet safely.

      English motoring skills (remember: I am using this a generic term) are crap. They don’t have the first idea about anything. They think the third lane on a motorway is to sit there for every other stupid of their countrymen to OVERTAKE on the slow lane. Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? I have never once fallen for that one – even it makes me miss a flight. It’s traffic’s equivalent of Russian Roulette.

      When an ambulance or a police car flashes their lights and their sirens trying to get through it will take the every Englishman some time to compute that it might be a good idea to slow down, hug the kerb to make way. It’s pathetic.

      Ask your average English driver if he ever had that lesson in either Physics (the subject at school) or during his driving school’s theory lessons how to calculate the distance it will take you to come to an emergency halt at any given speed. They will look at you blankly. It’s why they drive far too closely on each other’s tail. Enter fog into the equation. Hallelujah. White vans are good at that. And lorries. A friend of my father was very good at frightening the wits out these guys, and teach them a lesson, by ever so slightly – just for a second – touching his brakes for the light to go on. It’s not a practice I condone though I do appreciate the thinking behind it. Give them a bit of their own medicine. I am touchy feely by nature but not when driving. Keep your fucking distance.

      Different countries have different styles of driving. The Spanish are unnerving in a different way to the French and the Italians. And “Vorsprung durch Technik” says all you need to know about a German motorway. They are precision drivers. Comes with their genes. I suppose. And if you did hog that overtaking lane on a German motorway you’d be dead meat. Not because they’d drive you into a ditch. Oh, no, because they will flash and tail you so badly you wish you had taken to hitchhiking instead. Make you feel the shit driver you are.

      The English worry so much about speed and drink driving. Give me speed with a CONFIDENT driver after a bottle of wine any day. I know it sounds harsh. But it’s true. I have the jitters when sitting next to a stone cold sober but timid driver; and have happily entrusted my son and myself to the slightly inebriated.

      I could go on. A subject of some passion to me. To end on a high note: My brother once let me overtake him in a most enjoyable race down the Autobahn. A moment of triumph. And no, we weren’t drunk. Just merry.

      “Where HONESTLY are u”. Is that a question, John? If so I will answer in a sort of roundabout way. Which reminds me: I do take my hat off to the British for relentlessly (fathered in Milton Keynes) promoting roundabouts. If there is one thing they have done for smooth flow on our roads, it’s that. Brilliant.

      Long live the King. I will not ask why the Queen has it not in her heart to abdicate and let her son, long overdue, into the driving seat.


      Comment by Ursula — February 21, 2012 @ 10:56 | Reply

  5. Luckily I am not categorised under the sh*t driver heading so unless you are wanting Death Race 2000 then I suggest some alternative steering wheel usage, in other words sit back and enjoy the journey while I navigate those rabbits, peacocks and perhaps even a few scarecrows if you keep grabbing hold of the wheel during the manoeuvring phases… Into the ravine is one thing but let us not enter the abyss or I might need to press the ejector seat… Don’t worry the parachute comes as standard so unless you drift into a rabbit hole you should be absolutely fine… Wake up U it was all just a wicked dream…

    Have a delightfully exquisite Tuesday my fine fiend, I mean friend…

    Androgoth XXx

    Comment by Androgoth — February 21, 2012 @ 02:37 | Reply

    • So far my Tuesday is not so much delightful as exquisite. If I were being paid for advanced skills of avoiding the inevitable I’d be rich.

      And yes, Androgoth, you have, during our short acquaintance, inspired enough trust in me to climb in without a second thought. I’ll even sit on my hands as not disturb your roadkill.

      My barbecue or yours? And I do hope you know how to gut a mammal.


      Comment by Ursula — February 21, 2012 @ 11:09 | Reply

      • Yes no problem U, though I usually just bite their
        necks first, depending on how hungry I am at the time…
        I definitely enjoyed reading your reply to Finlaygray…

        I am pleased that you trust my driving skills enough to
        be handcuffed, I mean enough to sit on your hands during
        the dodging of the rabbits and scarecrows… How wicked

        Have a ghoulishly exciting Tuesday and make
        some pancakes, I so enjoy a nice pancake or three…

        Androgoth XXx

        Comment by Androgoth — February 21, 2012 @ 11:24 | Reply

  6. I am a crap driver
    but being a control freak
    I have to behind the wheel!!!!!!!!!!!!
    go figure!

    Comment by john — February 21, 2012 @ 09:56 | Reply

    • Being a “control freak” behind the wheel.? Don’t worry. It’s ok. Comes with the territory. My dear John, whether you like it or not: That marks you as the MAN you are.

      It always amused me, though at the time wasn’t quite sure WHY (I was only young), that my uncles would drive us, in a manly sort of way – in convoy – TO a gathering of much merriment, only to then, graciously, pass the car keys to their wives (my very sweet tiny innocent aunts) to get us back home. Yes.


      Comment by Ursula — February 21, 2012 @ 11:19 | Reply

  7. At this time in my life, I fear two brains would only make me twice as forgetful. If I could control them, and have one kick in when the other checked out, that would be perfection!

    Comment by writingfeemail — February 21, 2012 @ 11:31 | Reply

    • Having looked at your lovely snow – oh do I so miss snow – I am melting.

      Never thought of that: Two brains making you “twice as forgetful”. Good thinking. In fact, and I know this sounds horrible for more reasons than one: Maybe we could coast along on half a brain (between the two of us).


      Comment by Ursula — February 21, 2012 @ 11:47 | Reply

  8. I wonder, by extension of the term “Sunday Driver” here in the US implying an inexperienced and annoyingly driver with little skill, what that might imply about your “Sunday Brain.” I’m afraid I cannot picture you trading down for a broken down jalopy that isn’t deft at maneuvering or capable of racing along with the fastest of machinery out there, even if for only one day out of the week.

    Two minds? I can only imagine the headaches that would cause.

    Comment by Phil — February 21, 2012 @ 15:48 | Reply

    • Thank you for your vote of confidence, Phil.

      And you may be right. Though headaches don’t afflict me. But who knows: Two brains next to each other might rub up the wrong way. Causing thunder and lightning. Breaking the cloud, cleaning the atmosphere.This minute I think I may, at some point in the long distance future, be heading for a toothache. In all likelihood on a Saturday afternoon.


      Comment by Ursula — February 21, 2012 @ 17:24 | Reply

    • The above should read “annoyingly slow driver”, not annoyingly driver. Duh – maybe I could indeed use a second brain, to run behind and make these grammar corrections…

      Comment by Phil — February 21, 2012 @ 17:52 | Reply

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