I was running late on Friday because:
1) I just could not be bothered to leave the house
2) Coudn't find a fiver that I knew was knocking around somewhere
3) Was having a clothing crisis and couldn't work out what to wear - get over yourself I hear you cry.
Anyway, I left the house with only 33 minutes to reach the station, park, get a car park ticket, leg it over the footbridge, engage in 5 minutes of witty banter with Tallman, Visaman, Greenjacketman and catch the train. (Incidentally, Greenjacketman is a very nice chap who has been doing the journey to London for 17 years. He has a very dry and amusing way about him).
Suffice to say I drove the car like it was stolen... although with strict adherence to all traffic regulations. On approach to a rather sharp left hand turn, I was braking and changing gears, getting ready to pull up the handbrake in a perfect rally driver manoeuvre when.... a squirrel crossed my path.
Unable to do anything other than make the turn the squirrel found it's way under the car and met with a wheel or 2. Nasty knocking noise from under the vehicle for a second or 2 and then nothing.
Mentioned this to Greenjacketman at the station who told me that they're all rats anyway and therefore count as vermin.
Caught the train, forgot to buy a ticket for the car park and got away with it anyway.