Slow down...

Mrs S and I were discussing how stressful driving in the South East is these days. She mostly shops within – say, a 12-mile radius like most people do by car, and usually has a frightening ‘white van’, or ‘boy racer’ story after each trip, and we both cluck at the stupidity of ever getting a car out of the drive; let alone going anywhere.

Then the discussion turned to how everyone copes with having to be in ‘control’ of getting somewhere. I’ve long suspected that as we live in the country, we are really pariahs in the minds of Government, and I’ve stopped driving to London most days as I used to do and stick the Scroboxter in the car park and hop onto a train.

And this is where the stress/control obsession develops.

Mrs S and I now drive much slower to let the yobs get as far as possible in front of us, so they can have their crash out of sight, and we are less up-tight as a result. We are in ‘control’ for the whole time. But it is not a pleasant way to get anywhere now, it is usually a tortuous journey and anxiety on the road becomes more of an issue.

So what about stress/control on trains? You are in much less control; you can’t really do anything if there’s a problem, but at least, if something nasty happens, you are still on terra firma, and will have a good chance of survival. So you have traded ‘control’ for less ‘stress’. And you go faster...

The ultimate travel is flying, where you have absolutely no control, so therefore why be stressed at all? And you go the fastest way possible...

Mind you, I can get up tight about anything trivial, like someone eating an industrial size bag of crisps in my ear, or kids ‘effing and blinding’ without understanding the words, but this isn’t stress; it’s old-gittery…