First, the panic. “Oh no, I’m going to miss my dental hygiene appointment in Swindon. My plaque will be furious.” Then, the acceptance. You turn off the engine. You resign yourself to listening to Radio 2’s PopMaster for the third time this week. Ken Bruce (or whoever it is now) becomes your co-pilot.
Then comes the snacking inventory. You find a single, sad wine gum at the bottom of your bag that has fused with a crumpled receipt. You eat it anyway. Desperation tastes like stale sugar and regret.
You start noticing the small things. The bird that’s trapped on the central reservation. The exact number of caravans in front of you (five, all branded “The Wandering Gecko”). The way the brake lights of the lorry in front pulse like a weird, angry heartbeat. It’s art, if art was tedious and smelled faintly of diesel.
The Great Escape (That Isn’t)
Your brain will trick you. “I know a shortcut,” it whispers. “Through that farm track. Past the sign that says ‘Unsuitable for Motor Vehicles.’” Do not listen to your brain. That way lies a hedgerow, a farmer named Keith with a shotgun (for the pheasants, probably), and a recovery fee that costs more than your car.
M4 remains closed for investigation work after serious collision in the
Instead, you’ll watch the Google Maps traffic layer turn from green to a deep, angry red. It looks like a blood clot on a map of Berkshire. It’s a digital representation of your afternoon disappearing.
Then, a glimmer of hope. A Highways England tweet. “M4 westbound, J12 to J13. Expect significant delays due to serious collision. Recovery underway.” That word. Recovery. It’s music. It’s the sound of a key turning in a prison lock. It might take hours, but it’s happening.
