Chinese Takeaway
As I was leaving the office last night, I found a red Nissan Micra parked on the roundabout at the end of the industrial estate in which my office is situated. The Micra was on the outside edge of the roundabout, which is marginally better than being parked on the roundabouty-bit. I was disturbed by this. The car was being driven by a chinese guy. His passenger was also chinese. Something told me that they were not necessarily long-established residents in the country. Perhaps once upon a time I would have been angered by this, but my first reaction was concern. Driving in this country can be confusing, and perhaps the Micra occupants were suffering a confusion.

Making eye contact with the driver proved to be enough to cause him to come to my car. He pointed to a road on his A-Z which he wanted to go to. Realising that giving him directions wasn't necessarily going to work, and realising that the top priority should be to get them out of everyone's way, I told him that I would drive him there. He understood that he should follow me.

I drove the half mile or so to the street he wanted. I think I was most proud that I knew where it was. Pulling into the street, I pulled over, opened my window and pointed at the floor, the international symbol for "This is your street".

My chinese friends were happy campers. Then I went to Tesco.

Foto Phun
There comes a point in every relationship where it's time to take things to the next level. My girlfriend and I reached that point last night. Yes, it was time for that moment where you "stick the heads of members of her familiy onto a picture of the local football team". It was a tender moment.

We laughed.