Bad Fecking Day

Thanks to Transport for London and their shoddy repair work on the Blackwall Tunnel, I spent over six hours yesterday travelling to and from work. The fact that I had an even longer journey, because of the Tunnel’s closure only a week earlier, was even more upsetting.

Though, that was not the worst thing. On the way home, whilst stationary at a set of lights, a mini cab driver, in a Silver Mercedes Benz, rear-ended me. I got out, got his details and then attempted to call him today to absolutely no response. So, tomorrow I am off to report the incident to the police and have him tracked down.

Yet, this is not the worst thing. I called my insurer to check on my excess, which I believed to be £150, only to find that was my voluntary excess (whatever that means). My actual excess is £400. I don’t have that much money in the bank and I have a friend coming to stay at Christmas. Where I am supposed to rustle up £400 from? I don’t know. How am I supposed to get my car repaired? I don’t know.

What I do know is that I will be changing my insurer quick smart. And, the registration plate of the mini cab driver is emblazoned on my brain and, should I see him agan, I will be sure to give him a piece of my mind.

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