In motoring terms, if there’s one thing worse that breaking down during rush hour on a roundabout, it’s breaking down during rush-hour on a double roundabout. As I know, having done both, 40 years apart. For both incidents, the clutch was to blame.
Breaking Down on a Single Roundabout
The first time, a loose connection silently leaked clutch fluid in my wake on my morning commute to Queen Square before I ground to halt at Stokes Croft. I could hardly believe what was happening. This was my brand-new company car, a cute metallic green Renault 5, of which I’d proudly taken delivery only the previous day. Although this was before the age of mobile phones enabling drivers to call for help, the timing was on my side. Almost immediately, a traffic officer arrived on the scene to investigate the cause of the bottleneck.
“What seems to be the problem, madam?” he asked kindly, noticing my visible distress.
“It’s my birthday!” I sobbed, which was true. “It’s not fair!”
Breaking Down on a Double Roundabout
On the second occasion, last Friday, a slipping clutch on the M4 from London culminated in a complete mechanical failure at the tricksy Bridgeyate junction. Despite the early evening darkness, I felt a touch of deja-vu. As I’d braked before entering the double-roundabout, my car had emitted a hideous graunching sound and cut out, refusing to restart. No policeman in sight this time, so I pulled out my phone and tapped the rescue service app. The fully automated process helpfully pinpointed my exact location on the map, but I missed the calming presence of a human being as I worked my way through a series of yes-or-no questions to which the answers weren’t obvious.
Was I ill, disabled, or going through a distressing time? Who wouldn’t find breaking down in the dark on a double-mini roundabout in rush-hour distressing? Suspecting that wasn’t what they meant, I said no.
Was I in a dangerous place? I looked around. Bridgeyate looked quite civilized to me. Besides, it was a much safer spot to break down than on the M4, on which I’d driven 80 miles earlier in the day. Another no.
Two Top Tips for Breaking Down
Eventually, when the rescue service man arrived, I asked him how I should have answered that last question, and I share his reply for your future reference.
“Ooh, yes,” he replied. “Busy traffic flow on a major junction in rush-hour? Definitely dangerous.”
Say yes to dangerous, apparently, and any rescue service will give you priority.
“Even better if you break down on the motorway,” was his cheerful recommendation.
Oh well, swings and roundabouts…
This post first appeared in the March 2026 edition of the Hawkesbury Parish News.
More Cautionary Tales for Motorists
In Other News
This week I’ll be speaking at not one but two events in London:
- On Tuesday at the London Book Fair at Olympia, as part of a panel entitled The Rise and Rise of the Authorpreneur
- On Wednesday at a special event for indie authors organised in Kensington Town Hall by the Alliance of Independent Authors (ALLi), the Indie Author Lab, where I’ll be a mentor answering questions for aspiring writers
By the time this blog post goes live, both events will be over, and I should be enjoying ALLi’s post-event drinks party. Cheers!
Meanwhile, if you’re interested in learning how to self-publish your books, my Simply Self Publish course, which I teach for Jericho Writers, starts on Tuesday 7th April. It’s a live, inter-active course that runs online for ten weeks, and I’m very proud of how many of my past students have gone on to self-publish their books to a professional standard.
Find out more about my Simply Self Publish course here.
What I’m Reading
I’m ploughing through a weighty non-fiction book about the Dutch artist Vermeer at the moment – more on that when I reach the end – but this week I finished reading a brand new historical novel hot off the press, whose author I’ll be interviewing for my “In Conversation” series of posts later this year. In the meantime, here’s my review to whet your appetite…
The Temple of the Muses by Jane Davis
Having enjoyed the first book of the Chiswell Street Chronicles, “The Bookseller’s Wife”, I was eager to read this sequel, “The Temple of the Muses”, which continues the story of plucky Dorcas Lackington and her determination to democratise reading, in partnership with her husband James and their evolving bookshop.
In an era in which literacy and therefore reading were restricted to the higher echelons of society, in part to suppress the political impusles of the lower classes against the backdrop of the French revolution across the Channel, Dorcas campaigns on two fronts: teaching girls and servants of both genders to read way beyond pure functional literacy (the definition of which at the time, the author tells us, was being able to sign your own name), and by the bold move of vastly reducing the price of books to make them more affordable to the masses.
Inspired by a true story, this well-researched novel is indeed a chronicle, with its emphasis on social historical details, brought vividly to life through well-drawn and believable characters.
As a 21st-century reader addicted to bookshops of all kinds, I was struck by the many parallels between the challenges facing Dorcas’s bookshop and modern bookselling issues, eg cut-throat pricing, pulping, and distribution.
A fascinating read for anyone who loves books and bookshops – and it’ll make you very glad you live in the present day without our easy and afforable access to books in many formats.
