VERY few things raise my hackles more than driving.

After ten years of living in this land of ‘cut them up before they cut you up’, I hate getting behind the wheel as it brings nothing but metaphorical slaps in the face from other drivers. I sit, seething, as I watch certain drivers deliberately disobey the rules of the roads, fail to negotiate roundabouts and use the wrong lane, on purpose, in order to avoid queues and get where they are going just a little bit faster than the rest of us.

I have even been deliberately ‘bumped’ by another driver into a ‘Keep Clear’ box on Kempshott Lane.   

Just this morning, a woman drove out in front of me (in, typically, a certain make of German car) onto the roundabout I was in the middle of negotiating, only to then move so slowly that I had to nip in in front of her in order to make my exit for work. She then, of course, flashed her lights at me.  

I’m not saying I am by any means a perfect driver, but, aside from the occasional difficulty maintaining 30 miles an hour and so on, I drive as I am supposed to. I acknowledge those who let me out and so on with a wave, occasionally mouthing ‘thank you’ if they’ve been super nice.

Additionally, I would never park in a disabled bay, or in a family space when I have no / only older children with me as I have been a struggling parent and I know how hard it is to negotiate a hunking great baby carrier in and out of a back seat. 

I frequently drive home approaching the Winchester Road roundabout from the Thornycroft Roundabout, one of the most rage-inducing spots in town. Despite the fact that it is clearly marked that drivers wishing to progress towards the Brighton Hill roundabout must use the right hand lane, cheeky blighters continually, day in, day out, use the left to avoid the queue that inevitably builds in the other lane.

As you sit, the 10th or worse car back, you watch them merrily zoom and zip their way through without a care for the rest of us, or the danger they’re causing to law-abiding drivers.

So yes, I now, thanks to my years of this torture, have terrible road rage. I’m usually in the car with a young child, so try to curb the violence of my expression, but I find it incredibly difficult.

Witnessing such constant and consistent rude and inconsiderate behaviour would try the patience of the most placid of us.

Driving, cycling or using our roads these days, unfortunately, seems to mean semi-war.