There was a plain envelope waiting for me when I came through the front door, on Thursday last. It didn’t look like the regular ones that are house bills, statements or unwanted advertising junk. Yes, I’m primitive. I’m still paper based, to a great extent.
When I did get to opening it, my heart sank a little. Now, I hadn’t seen one of those for years and years. Inside was a formal bold printed form. Simple question. Was I the person driving my car on such and such a date, in the place named? They got me. I followed a link to a site that held motorway pictures. These images had gone from my recollection but there they were in curated digital realism. Big electronic signs, in bright red, hanging over the M25 motorway saying 60 miles per hour. Trouble is the calculated speed on the form was not 60.
By a small margin of error, the indicated speed of my car was enough to trigger the plain envelope that was not a welcome addition to my correspondence pile. Unintentionally I’d broken the law. I say unintentionally because I’m in the habit of using the speed limiter on my car to make sure such occurrences don’t happen. On this occasion my lapse is almost certainly going to turn into the need to go on a speed awareness course. Never mind.
John Vincent 