Birthday Deadline - Part 3

Galloping down the escalator, I try to work out the quickest way home. The central Line followed by the DLR, that's it. A train is waiting to leave as I make it to the platform. I rush forward and just manage to make it through the doors, less than a second before they close, almost catching my left foot in the process.

The tube train is quite full of people. They're a mixture of last minute Christmas shoppers and workers, who have finished work at midday and spent the entire afternoon in the pub - although looking at some, the may have been there all day. I check my watch again, impatient at the speed of the tube. We seem to be delayed at every station "to reduce the gap in the service" according to the announcement. I quietly grumble and seethe.

We reach Bank tube station. The doors open and I leg it up the escalator as at full pelt - well as full pelt as you can get when armed with bags of Christmas presents. Where's the DLR? I mumble to myself - the signage seems to be about as useful as a snooze button on a smoke alarm. I find a member of staff and ask the way to the DLR. "Oh it's stopped running from here until 5th January" she says,(incidentally, it's still not running, even today). Turning, I leg it back down the escalator, checking the time as I go - it's 5:45

Following another tube ride and a bus ride, I arrive back home. It's 6:30. The gift wrapping will have to wait until later, as I rush around the flat, throwing clothes into a holdall. I grab more things, toothbrush, deodorant, wrapping paper, phone, sellotape... What have I forgotten, I think as I scratch my head, watching the minutes count down. My car keys! Where are my fucking car keys!? Oh yes, in my pocket.

10 minutes later and I am squealing the tyres as I race out of the car park. The traffic should hopefully be ok, i'm thinking as I gun it along the roads leading to the motorway, slowing down for the cameras and flooring it again afterwards. Eventually I hit the motorway. It's not too bad and i'm thinking that I should be able to make it in an ok time.

I haven't accounted for the main roads after leaving the motorway though. Why is it that I always end up getting stuck behind a Rover 400, driven by someone old, or with big ears, or both!? "Come on!!" I shout as we pootle along at 28mph. He seems to stop for no reason at all "MOVE IT!!" I shout just as I look around to see a couple in the car next to me staring in my direction. Embarrassed, I tap my fingers on the steering wheel and mime to some make believe song playing on the radio - which doesn't work incidentally. I'm dangerously low on petrol and so pull into a petrol station. My phone beeps. It's a family member, "Where are you, we are all starving", I sigh. I am about 30 minutes away but i'm wondering if I can speed it up. "I'm 20 minutes away", I text back. The tyres squeal as I leave the petrol station - it's now 7:15.

I reach the country lanes and i'm driving a bit too fast and treading a fine line between getting there in one piece and not getting there at all. Thankfully the lanes are quiet as I turn the last couple of corners before finally turning into the driveway. It's nearly 8pm. Everyones car is there except mine and any hope that someone else might be later than me has all but evaporated. Leaving the Christmas presents and luggage in the car for the moment, I grab my jacket and thunder around to the side entrance. Everyone seems to be wearing a scowl as I walk past the kitchen window. Walking through the door I fear the worst. They all turn and look at me...

"Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you,......."