Kevin Page: And just like that it's Christmas

"I was sure he'd slow down before he reached me. Wouldn't he?" Photo / 123rf

OPINION

And just like that it's Christmas.

I swear when I last looked at my diary it showed the date as September 16.

Christmas was miles away. I had plenty of time to sort out all those things I needed to do and not leave it till the last minute like every other year.

I don't know what happened.

I'm thinking I must have spilled my extra hot, large BP Wild Bean mochaccino on the pages of my diary and they got stuck together, because the other day when I looked the date at the top of the page said December something or other and the big day was no longer on the far horizon - it was at the end of the driveway.

And I've got a very short driveway.

Anyway. It was pretty obvious I needed to get organised, and rather quickly.

I don't know about you, but I like to have a good think about my approach – usually over a coffee.

I'm a great one for lists.

Some days, however, a little bit of arthritis in the digits makes holding a pen a bit of a pain - literally - and obviously I can never find a bit of paper at the same time, so mental lists have to suffice.

Luckily just the other day, I needed to drop something off out of town so took the opportunity to compile my Christmas shopping list as I drove, sipping my takeaway cuppa as I did.

I thought the list would be easy. It wasn't.

I basically gave up when all I could think of for Mrs P this Covid Christmas was a new face mask and a new bottle of hand sanitiser, gift wrapped of course.

Hmmm. This was going to take some deeper concentration.

I found my way to my destination and walked up the very steep driveway, delivering the package I'd brought with me as I reached the summit.

Job done, I started to think about presents again as I descended.

I need to illustrate here just how steep this drive was. Let's just say I could see base camp far below, at the bottom – you get the picture?

Anyway, as I made my way day down – very gingerly – my mind drifted and I started to think maybe I should get Mrs P a nice romance novel.

The momentary lapse in concentration proved disastrous as my feet slid out from under me on the polished exposed aggregate surface and I landed hard on my backside.

Thankfully the interior padding system I have invested in over many years saved me from serious injury, but after a while a deep throbbing joined my bruised pride.

The ride home was not particularly comfortable but I finally made it just in time to join a long queue of cars in two lanes, crawling at the speed of a 100-year-old snail into town.

Unfortunately, the slow pace caught a few of my fellow drivers off guard.

I watched the car behind me come racing up from a good 100 metres back.

I was sure he'd slow down before he reached me. Wouldn't he?

At 50 or so metres back I started to tighten both my newly bruised rear end and my grip on the steering wheel.

He wasn't slowing.

At 20 metres back I started gritting my teeth in anticipation of the smash.

Luckily, with what must have been only metres from impact, he yanked the car to the left, missing the main body of my vehicle by inches.

As it happened, he clipped my wing mirror and smashed it into a million pieces which were now scattered all over the road.

I pulled over, got out, rubbed my aching bum, and went to make sure he was OK. He was, though a little shaken and very apologetic. He said he'd simply lost concentration.

I could relate, though my earlier lapse had simply cost me a bruise to my rear end. His could have cost both of us our lives.

But I figured there was no point getting angry, especially as all we'd lost was a perfectly good wing mirror each.

So, we exchanged details etc and I continued on my way home.

As I pulled into my cul-de-sac I had to stop again.

This time a chicken was crossing the road. I kid you not.

I know not where it came from or where it was going. But there it was. A white chook with red head markings. Just casually crossing the road, seemingly without a care in the world.

And why was the chicken crossing the road?

I've no idea.

Maybe he was just out wandering around, lost in thought and trying to figure out what he could get Mrs Chicken for Christmas.