The Hill, The Heels, and The Handbrake


Oh, where to start…

I am a girl who lives by routine. Primarily because I have become so forgetful in my old age I need routine to get me through the day. This is not to say, however, that my reliance on internal autopilot is completely without flaw.

Case in point: When I arrive home, I must leave my car parked on the road in order to open a 5-bar gate and get my crazy dog to SIT/STAY on the doorstep so I don’t run over him when I back into the driveway. I have completed this routine so very many times I no longer think about the various steps of said routine. Until one step is omitted…


This how my house is situated.

 If you have ever wondered how I manage to get such great shots of the sunrise and sunset, this is the precise reason: My house is perched on the top of a hill, and the lane carrying on down to the hamlet of Marlow Bottom is about a half mile of steep grade, ending in a right angle.


My car. (Love hearts in my eyes!)



The electric handbrake lever that is supposed to be pulled when one leaves their car running in neutral. 

After putting my dog in SIT/STAY on the doorstep, I discovered my car was no longer parked outside my open gate…


My facial expression upon making said discovery.


The shoes I was wearing at the time. Yes, I was pushing the season a bit, but, well, pedicure. And… shoes!


What I thought I looked like running down the hill after my car.


What I actually looked like running down the hill after my car.

Mother Hen

© motherhendiaries 2017, all rights reserved.

  • House on hill:
  • Nissan X-Trail:
  • X-Trail gear shift:
  • The Scream (Edvard Munch):
  • Silver shoe:
  • Wonder Woman:
  • Clumsy woman:
  • Feature photo: Shutterstock

PS: Fortunately, my beloved Nissan X-Trail made its way deep into a hedge and stopped herself before hitting the steepest bit of the hill. No damage done, save my pride, and thankfully there was no one coming up the hill! Now THAT would have been a FREAKIN’ GREEK TRAGEDY!

19 replies »

  1. I can imagine a policeman showing up at your front. “Ma’am,” he says, “we’re going to have to take you in for questioning.”
    “Questioning?” you ask.
    “Yes. We want to find out who killed the hedge down the street.”
    “But, Officer,” you fudge, “I have an alibi.”
    “No, Ma’am, you do not. We’ve brought this shoe in for questioning. And she points the finger right at you. And that car of yours has guilt all over its face.”
    He cuffs you and puts you in the backseat of his car.
    “But, Officer,” you say, a bit of a cry in your voice. “I didn’t do it.”
    The policeman turns his neck toward you in the back seat.
    “Listen, if you’re not guilty, then your name isn’t Cinderella.”
    “But my name isn’t Cinderella.”
    “Then I’m the fairy godmother.”

    Liked by 1 person

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