It's not got the medicinal quality to the listener that the speaker imagined when thinking of something to say to break the silence you're focusing all your attention on keeping, as any break in this wall will certainly result in all the pent up adrenalin of frustration gushing from your lowered and sun sore eyes.
Walking across the car park to my home I thought briefly of beating the crap out of a Pay and Display machine. I sensed there might be a karmic irony somewhere in it, but decided that the Pay and Display machine hadn't done anything wrong. It was just doing its job. Just like the DSA examiner I'd had sat next to me for the last forty minutes.
Crossing the road I breath the crisp November afternoon air and imagine myself calm as a Hindu cow. It's not working. I think of going near my chakras, but from the outside they look like the lifts in The Shining. Torrents of blood. Shock horror. Twins holding hands in a corridor.
Somewhere in Derbyshire there is an old couple driving a silver shopping car. They've cost me eight weeks of driving lessons and about three hundred quid. They weren't looking. I looked and they weren't there. I pulled out and they were. They didn't notice the BSM marked Corsa sticking out into the road. I sincerely hope they get back safely from wherever they were going. Me, I failed my test because of them. Driving back to the test centre, a lady in a Volkswagen straddled two lanes all the way up the dual carriageway. I'm glad she is allowed to drive like that. If I hadn't failed before then, I may have failed for getting to close as she slowed to 15mph in a 40 zone for no other reason than to keep straddling.
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