Many, many years ago not too long after I had passed my test we decided on a little jaunt out into the countryside in our second hand motor, a small blue Metro. Ok,ok I know it was probably the crappiest car around being nothing more than a tin bath on wheels but it had several things you would find missing from a car today. Firstly it had a manual choke, or a handbag holder as some people would wittily call it and secondly it had wind down windows complete with little handle.
I loved wind down windows. Notice I said ‘loved’ because one incident made me unlove them so much on our countryside jaunt that fine day. We had visited a local attraction, had a lovely day so decided to take a nice leisurely route through winding country roads. Up hill and down dale we travelled breathing in the fresh air as our wishes and dreams ran through our uncluttered mind. The windows were down, the weather was warm and I imagine I smelled the distinct aroma of jasmine drifting through my nostrils.
Actually my nose then did a somersault, it suddenly changed to pig muck and I plummeted back to reality with a fantastical nasal assault from the passing fields. Wow, it really was strong but it was one of those smells that if you immediately shut the windows it would just linger and fight the small air blower in the car for space so we did the wisest thing and kept the windows fully open to allow it to dissipate quickly.
So imagine my surprise when we rounded a bend and ploughed into a brown curtain draped across the road. I say brown curtain, what it actually turned out to be was muck from a muck spreader that was merrily spewing out from a tractor trailer funnel that had not been turned off as the tractor turned in the field.
‘Shut the windows! Shut the windows!!!’ I screamed to Jayne and we both lunged for the handles. Jayne was quicker and whipped hers up in an instant, I however had to steer the car and wind at the same time which was fine until it approached the top of the window and made a clunk sound firmly dropping the window back down to fully open.
I still hear today the slopping noise as the effluent hit the bonnet, I still recoil as the muck shot through the window plastering my right side in an obnoxious gloop of farmyard glory. I was sick, very sick to add to the smell, texture and flavour for you see my mouth had been open in an incredulous look of someone that had just seen a cow jump over the moon and had been filled accordingly. Globules stuck from my ear, a brown tidal mark hung around my neck and my lap contained what looked like a fresh turd.
Occasionally I have nightmares about this, I wake up in the middle of the night pushing invisible things from my lap and retching uncontrollably, it was probably one of the most singularly disgusting things I have ever had happen to me and believe me, I talk from decades of experience.
That is why I like electric windows, uncluttered and they shoot up in an instant. So imagine my surprise this week when I had a new nightmare after taking years to get over this particular incident. I shall tell you more about it in due course but all I shall say is would you drink a cup of tea made out of your own urine?
More to the point what would you do if you were offered it by strangers to drink THEIR tea made out of THEIR urine?
I’ll tell you more as soon as I finish therapy.