8/7/2019 Hill start

http://slidepdf.com/reader/full/hill-start 1/1

COTSWOLDMOTHER

with EMILY CARLISLE

IF I WAS one of those organised women– the sort who keep birthday cards filedin categories – I ’d have bought my tax

disc online a fortnight ago. When it arrivedin the post I’d have pinned it to a fabriccovered notice board in the kitchen,between the children’s picture of their trip

to the zoo, and a reminder of the pre-schoolcommittee meeting. I didn’t do that. Whichis why I found myself rushing into town athalf past four to catch the post office beforeit closed at five.

The children were baying for their supperand in various states of disarray, their fancy dress play having been interrupted by my realisation that if I didn’t get to the postoffice right this second I wouldn’t be able todrive the car over the weekend. With wet weather forecast, the thought of beingincarcerated at home for two days with my marauding infants filled me with horror.

I threw the children in the car, put my foot down and hurtled into town, where foronce the Goddess of parking spaces wassmiling on me. There was a space, albeit anillegal one, directly outside the post office. Iswerved haphazardly into it and hopped outof the car. Twenty to f ive. So far, so good.Intending to avoid the kids swarming ontothe road, I headed round the front of thecar to let them out the other side.Somewhat alarmingly the car started to rollforward… I leapt in front of it and body-slammed the bonnet before it slid into therather nice Audi in front. With a sinkingfeeling I realised that in my haste to decantus all into the post office I had neglected toput the handbrake on.

Chipping Norton is built on a hill, witha car park so steep one requires cramponsto cross from one side to the other, and I was parked at the top of it. I tentatively inched my way along the bonnet, wondering if I could work up enoughspeed to reach the brake before the carmoved too far… Not a chance. I was nowperilously close to being squashed betweenmy front bumper and the Audi.

The children were getting restless in theback seat and I could see my four year old

doing something unspeakable. I rapped onthe bonnet to get his attention and gavehim my infamous stern mother look. Hegrinned and carried on. Perhaps I could get

him to put the handbrake on? It was wortha shot. I began miming to him to take off his seat belt. He stared at me with hismouth hanging open like the adenoidalkids in remedial class, making no attemptto undo his belt. Having spent the last yearinstilling the fear of God into my childrenin relation to the dangers of taking off theirseatbelts, this was perhaps not surprising. Iresumed my mime with renewed vigour,stopping only when a passerby shot me asuspicious glance. It’s not every day you seea mother of three performing Seventiesdance moves in the car park whilstrestraining a fully laden Ford Galaxy.

That was stupid of me – I should haveasked him for help. I resolved to ask thenext person who came along to put on thebrake for me. I could see a woman at thepost office counter putting her purse back in her bag. She came onto the pavementand headed straight for me with a smile.

Oh for pity’s sake – it was one of the uber-mothers from pre-school. I wasn’t going tolet her see me in such a ridiculouspredicament so I spun round from my 

spread-eagled position and planted my notinconsiderable bottom on the bumper,attempting a nonchalant pose as sheapproached. We passed the time of day until I started to sweat with the exertion of stopping my car from rolling into us. “Iseverything alright?” She asked. “Not really.”I confessed, admitting my ineptitude andgrudgingly asking for help. Uber-Mothernipped to the driver’s side and put on thehandbrake with a tinkling laugh. “You arefunny, Emily”. Hilarious. “It’s lucky I waspassing.” She continued. “I just popped into get a tax disc. It’s not due for anothermonth, but I like to keep it handy on thenotice board.” She climbed gracefully intothe unscathed Audi. I should have left my car rolling. ■

morethanjustamother.com

 twitter.com/MTJAM

facebook.com/morethanjustamother 

Hill startThe thought of being incarcerated with marauding infants means a last-minute dash

 With a sinking feeling Irealised that in my haste todecant us all into the postoffice I had neglected to put the handbrake on.

‘

  April 2011 13cotswold.greatbri t ishl i fe .co.uk

COTSWOLD.GREAT

BRITISHLIFE .co.uk 

READ EMILY’S BLOG AT