The whistling is driving me mad. Anything over forty kilometres an hour and it sounds like I have Roger Whittaker in the car, whistling one of his lesser known but more boring tunes. I’ll have to ring the glass repair bloke again.
Then, arriving at work, I was about to pull into my parking spot, without whistling, as I was going slow, when this blockhead coming towards me against the arrows made me pull over and brake sharply. I almost sideswiped a parked car. He looked straight ahead and kept going, as though everything was normal. What does he think the arrows are for? Obviously, no one is going to tell him what to do. He’s an individualist, and he advertises it by not cooperating with others. I wonder what side of the road he drives on.
Glass repair man is coming in the morning.