The pin that was pulled out of the grenade

And everything went bang. Again.

This time, as I drove home after resigning from Dalkia, I was acutely aware that I was feeling; feeling a lot. I was emotional and struggling to control it all. Nearly left the road several times as I tried to stay in 'reality'. But I was never in any real danger I don't think, of crashing. Things seemed fine, just twitched that were upsetting and forcing me to think.

As I approached Emersons green, I suddenly became aware that the road behind me was filling with smoke. At first I thought it was low level exhaust fumes due to the cold clinging to the harshly chilled tarmac, as fog and mist tends to do. Then I noticed that no one else was giving this off, and thought 'maybe my exhaust has gone up the creek'. Looking back on that though,l my exhaust has only just been replaced.

Then, as I slowed to pull up behind the car in front at the roundabout (there was quite a que) suddenly it all became painfully clear to me what was wrong. Smoke, steam and something else started to pour out of the sides and gaps in the car. Suddenly it seemed as though I was going to be overcome with the smoke and so I instinctively baled the car into the side of the roundabout and into the rough, unlaid ground; yard after yard of thick, brown mud.

I mounted the kerb, and entered the gunk. Splat. I felt the car sinking alittle into the soft muck. Grabbing my bag, I shut the car down, shaking and panicing - not in any state to deal with this.

Scrambling away from the vehicle, all I could think about was the Police show I'd seem about a week previous where a guy had stopped his car on the street because it seemed to be steaming or smoking. The police arrived and told him 'Sir, your car is on fire. Call the fire brigage'.

I got a safe(ish) distance away from the car, and started making calls and texts. Everyone pulling up at the roundabout was staring at me. I called Dad and told him what was happening, suggesting that I should call the fire dept. He agreed at once and so I rung off and made that call. Very soon, the flashing lights and sirens arrived, with four or five firemen in suits. They examined the car and were able to do something to the front end of it. By now it had simmered right now, but I didn't want to take any chances with anything hot.

So in the end, they left. My Dad eventually arrived and he, Jazz and myself decided to leave the car for now, strip it of anything valuable or sentimental, and get me home. By this time I was beyond all degrees of tolerance. My good boots were ruined in that muck. I got into Jazz's car, took them off and was taken home.

After that, and two more phone calls, I got my Dad to take care of the car situation. In the end, he joined me to Green Flag, got them to tow it, fix it a little bit and now it's sitting in West View Road, knackered. At least it didn't catch fire on the outside and then burst into flames, or fall apart.