This morning’s school run was a test of patience. 

As seems to be the norm on Britain’s roads, you can’t drive more than a mile without hitting roadworks. 

I’d managed to hustle the cubs into the car in reasonable time and with limited fuss, but we were now confronted with the familiar sight of brake lights. 


I watched my chronological advantage slip away and my ire rise. Not good. 

I took a short cut; brake lights. 

We eventually crawled forwards and I cordially let folk in sideroads out, in order to move everyone along nicely. 

We started to move faster, through a nearby village on the school route. We passed a less than well hedgehog in the road. 

“Dad; is that hedgehog ok?”

Now do I try to protect my daughter from the reality of life and death of fauna on British roads? Yeah of course. 

I think it was ok darling; just moving very slowly…

She didn’t buy it. 

“I think it was dead. There were bits of it scattered everywhere!”

Ok…

“It’s feet were quite wide apart and it’s hands were further up the road…”

Ok but…maybe….well….

“And it’s intestines look like they’d come out of its backside…

Wow. You saw all that at 30 mph??

“I don’t think it’s going anywhere now dad…”

And she collapses in fits of laughter. 

Daddy needs therapy. 

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