Brighton Bounce

What a beautiful sunny day! I clambered into crapsy-car and shot round the M25 to Brighton to pick Offsprog One and her belongings up.
Woe. The indicators stopped working and I had to pray for no right turns as I got lost not only in Brighton's heinous one-way system, but also in two lots of closed-road diversions signalled by infuriatingly cheerful yellow signs.
On my fifteenth circuit, I stopped and fired up the iPhone satnav which decided to work for once in a miracle.
Unforchly, my car was pointing in the wrong direction and I was looking at circuit number 16. So I did a 3-point turn which would have been OK if I had not stopped at point one to face a scowling harridan of a cyclist dressed in cutie-pie Brighton chic.
Terrified, I backed into the parking ticket machine and smashed my back tail light covers. The customers in the cafe behind me had their hands over their mouths, eyes popping with horror.
Wimps. I drove off proudly.
Indicators now miraculously working (could it have been the near-death experience?), I managed to pull up outside her house and we loaded up to the gunn'l's.
We met Offsprog Two for lunch in a pub, bouncing off near-argument subjects like steel balls in a pinball machine.
And now we are back here in north London.
The kitchen floor is covered in boxes and we are planning a book case in an unfeasible place. I sold a roll of carpet at a snip on eBay to make space; there is more stuff to go as we shrink to fit into a small space. Luckily both of us will be quite busy at work and so on. We just have to make sure that there is always milk and that the bath is always clean.
That's all.