I had observed previously (somewhat controversially) that there seemed to be some sort of a Zen-like patience in Parisian drivers – I’d just like to take that comment back, throw it down on a freshly sculpted steaming mound of dog poo and stamp on it with a vengeance.

I must have had one month solid of Florence Nightingale and Mother Teresa incarnates behind the wheel, and then during the strikes everyone’s tempers flared. Fair enough, I reasoned. But the road angst has continued unabated and I’ve realised that it’s all about the self-interest at stake. The cars that had previously impressed me, waiting so reverentially behind the furniture removal trucks, must have just moved into the area and viewed it as some sort of karmic equation. Now, with summer long gone and people in a hurry to make their green lights (orange lights or red lights for that matter…) or announcing that they are about to plough through the green lights of pedestrians too, I’m getting well fed up with the constant honk of car horns. The car in front tarries or hesitates for two seconds – the horn. A cab stops for a moment too long when receiving the coins from their charge – the horn. Even if someone stops at a pedestrian crossing to let a young girl and a three-year-old on a scooter across a particularly perilous corner – you’ve guessed it – a symphonic chorus rises from the subsequent vehicles.

I think I might have a look on EBay to see if I can get myself one of these pedestrian horn outfits. I could give it back as good as I got it, all from the safety of the sidewalk.

What do you think?