I bit my tongue again yesterday, for the second time this year. Differences:
* When I did it [in January][], I drew blood. Whereas:
* When I did it yesterday, it was to the accompaniment of a sickening crunching noise which made me feel a little uncomfortable for quite some time. I was worried that I’d caused significant internal damage to this delicate organ.
* When I did it in January, I was sat at my desk in the office. Whereas:
* When I did it yesterday, I was sat at [Nick][]’s dining table eating sausages.
* When I did in January, I had driven to work in my car. Whereas:
* Yesterday I was a van ((Short-wheelbase Ford Transit, 30k miles)) driver. Vans are awesome. I want a van.
* When I did it in January, I endured three-and-a-half days of pain. Whereas:
* Physically speaking, I’ve pretty much recovered from yesterday’s incident already. It still feels a little conspicuous, a little uncomfortable, but not in an ow way. However, that crunching noise still haunts me through the night. Crunchety crunchety crunch. Slightly gritty, slightly gristley, not at all nice.
But hey, vans are ace. Hop on the motorway in one, and suddenly you’re in this elite club of van drivers. The cameraderi amongst the brethren is astoundsome. The lights, the indicators, a whole language. Belong.
It’s also a very valuable lesson. Not until you’ve driven a van on the motorway do you appreciate quite how large the blind spot is. Convex mirrors help greatly, but they also distort distances. Repeatedly, I found myself silently cursing the guys who drove on sidelights when dipped beam was more appropriate, especially the ones who would drive alongside and match my speed, instead of passing me properly. In a normal car, you can glance over your right shoulder and follow them through the rear driverside window, but in a van they are reduced to a small, barely visible item in your convex mirror. It is common for people to hold a view of white van drivers as being unpredictable and dangerous, so it surprises me that they pull off these moves that depend so heavily upon the driver’s continued vigilance. If you’re going to be prejudiced, at least be consistent. Insert sound of my mind boggling.
*If you like reading about Illnesses And Maladies (Oh Woe Is Me!), [click here][] for more!*
[in january]: http://pete.nu/blog/2006/01/opal-fruit-or-terrorist/
[nick]: http://www.meafmania.co.uk/
[click here]: http://pete.nu/blog/category/iamowim
6 replies on “But Where Would We Put The Baby Seat?”
I don’t think I’ve ever bitten my tongue, but I’ve bitten my cheek (the inside of my cheek, obviously), and it hurt like fuck. In fact, that happens a lot, when I’m vigourously chewing something err… chewy. Your cheek goes crunch when you bite it too.
I want a van, like a van in the old 70’s movies, with a lounge in the back and all that, but NOT like the one in the Madonna video.
Yes, there was a time when I liked the idea of a van for chilling in. The problem with that is that every time you go round a corner, all the beers fall over in the fridge.
I think I’d just like a van for transporting large items around. Of course, I’d very rapidly be exploited by my so-called friends whenever they were moving house, but perhaps if I faked a back injury then I could do all the fun driving with none of the non-fun heavy lifting.
You could charge them money. And if it took off, sooner or later you could quit your job and just drive a van all the time. How happy you would be!
You see you haven’t done your van-for-chilling-in research, there’s a gas-powered fridge you can get with a pull-out drawer filled with beer-can shaped slots, to prevent exactly the sort of fall-overage you mention. I can’t seem to find it on Google right this moment though…
Things have obviously progressed greatly since I abandoned my dreams of a van-for-chilling-in.
Oh, and the answer to the question in the title of the post is:
In the middle.