TPR leapt out of the black BMW at the traffic lights while we were queuing at the Barnton junction.
“I’ll be back in a minute” he shouted. “I’m just going to get some petrol.”
When the lights changed to green, all the cars in front of us moved forwards to turn onto the A90. Ours remained stationary as I sat tight in my seat, confident that TPR would soon return. The traffic lights rotated through their sequence several times, yet TPR did not reappear. I waited and waited, as did the ever-growing line of cars behind me.
Eventually another driver in the queue lost his patience and blasted his horn. I understood that I had no choice but to climb over to the driver’s seat, turn on the engine, and move the vehicle. I took action when the lights next changed green. I pulled straight into the right hand lane, forgetting to indicate or check my mirrors, causing the car behind to perform an emergency stop. I really was Edinburgh’s worst driver.