I was driving home and, having managed to bludgeon the window motor into life, both windows were open letting gusts of spring air rush around. I indulged in a little daydream, imagining the Skip was in fact a BMW Z5. My long, blonde hair was flowing out in the slipstream, my beauty dazzling male admirers who stopped to watch this amazing and obviously successful woman cruise down the street. They held the backs of their hands up to shield their eyes as, in slow motion, I smiled a diamond, sparkling smile from under my Ray Ban Wayfarers.
Then the lights changed.
As I drove I reflected on how it had been another heavy day at work, watching senior managers wrestle with paper planes in order to learn how to improve efficiency while building a Toyota Corolla. An initiative that I suspected had Major Paperclip written all over it. There had also been a minor skirmish over posters in the ecumenical chapel. 'My God!' the caller proclaimed, 'He pulled them all down'. I felt upset at having missed God doing his thing on our premises. Perhaps he really wanted to build a Toyota. They do last a long time.
Me, I'm happy in my Skip.
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