The Face.

I was driving along a narrow, winding lane today when I encountered a car coming the other way. We both slowed. I had only a tiny verge and high hedge on my side, while she had a small space to pull onto and stop. She duly obliged (there was no other option) and I drove past slowly and with due care.

In those situations it’s customary for both drivers to lift a hand in mutual acknowledgement of each other’s courtesy and rational consideration, which I did. She didn’t. She sat gripping the wheel and staring dead ahead through heavy, black-rimmed glasses. Her brow was furrowed, her nose wrinkled, and her teeth clearly clenched behind a pouting mouth. And I thought:

Cartoonists labour long and hard to draw a face like that.