Stevie Nicks and my towed car

Last week my car got towed and I didn’t know what to do. I parked my car in a hurry on a single yellow line with other cars around, I thought it’d be okay. I go run my errands and wander back out into the street to an empty space where my car once was. 

I stood staring at the spot for a while. I tried turning around and looking back, still not there.

All the surrounding cars were still there.

I walked to the street across the road, trying to use another angle to convince myself that the car was in fact gone. I didn’t know what to do. I went to Topshop.    


I wandered around shell-shocked buying things that I returned the next day, before I came to my senses and called the police and said hello, I seem to have lost my car etc. etc. and they told me where I could go get it.

So I go rescue my car for the reasonable price of £180 and stop at the supermarket on the way home, where I discover that in the time between me parking the car and the car being rescued, it’s gotten a flat tyre. Stunning. 

I also lost my Mum’s eternity ring, one of the only surviving artefacts of my parent’s marriage and love, apart from myself and my brother.

Usually the gravity of that would kill me but so many strange things have happened recently that losing the ring felt like a slap in the face to a headless person.

We were going to London for Fleetwood Mac and by that point I was convinced something bad was going to happen every time I left the house. Or woke up. 

I was dreading going and ran about the house doing everything I could except pack, until I’d had no sleep before the flight and got myself more convinced it was going to go bad.

But going away for a couple of days with my best friend and a lot of belly laughs felt good. And Fleetwood Mac!!!!!!!!!! 

Stevie Nicks was amazing. She spun around in circles with her tambourine. She wore THREE different shawls. It. Was. Everything.

I did lose my phone in the hubbub of our drive to the gig (the agoraphobia is still climbing). Our Uber driver noticed the passenger in the back seat of the car next to us had caught their scarf in the door of the car, and it was trailing around the wheel. I was having Final Destination fears.

We were driving alongside them and gesturing wildly about scarves and wheels, it was a hard action to communicate. I was thinking how nice he must be until he put an earphone back in his ear. WTF. Who drives with earphones in? There’s a radio right there. Get help.

He did return the phone that I’d lost at 8pm, to me at 4am, which was nice but a long time to wait and I was having visions of him rocking out to my podcasts in his car, earphones akimbo.  

I tried to console myself with the fact he’d intervened in the scarf fiasco and therefore must be a good egg, but then I would think, can you really trust a mentalist who chooses to concentrate on driving, traffic, passengers, the radio AND listening to earphones? That sounds like sound torture. 

I used to have my earphones in all the time when I was like eleven but now I’m so worried about being in cars that even in complete silence I would be sure we are going to die. I also didn’t drive at eleven.

Anyway I finally went to the Harry Potter studios!!!!!  

I thought I caught something being said by a member of staff, something about three hours. I couldn’t guess what it could be. 

It was how long the tour lasts. I was expecting a twenty minute sort of situation.

Christ on a bike I love Harry Potter as much as the next 90’s child, but after three hours of facts I was brain-dead and delirious. I was floating about like a ghost, I could no longer read English, I’d lost all control of my brain. 

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