I'd been having trouble with the car's brakes all week. Something to do with the disc things locking on the handbrake.

"Put it in gear,"he'd said, "and then you won't need to use the handbrake - simple, problem solved." So I did.

Next morning it had snowed, just to slow me down even more and I'd run out of de-icer again.

I was in a flap. I tugged at the door to get it open, reached inside, put the key in and started it to get the heater going.

The car set off down the drive without me.

"Wow", that's clever I thought. Then I went mad as I tried stupidly holding on to the open door, trying to hold the car back. I even tried hopping along on one foot trying to jump into the front seat.

I gave up and tried to beat it down the drive.

I'll never forget the face of the man in a Metro as he jammed his brakes on to 'let out' my runaway car, watching me waving my arms shouting 'stop stop!'

It stuck in the garden, opposite, with it's wheels spinning.

I jumped in, turned it off and swore, relieved I wasn't going to prison!

I got out cringing, expecting a crowd of angry drivers, but they'd all carried on. They hadn't even noticed.

I felt a bit cheated.

'I'm fine, don't worry about me...I've only got to dig the car out of the neighbour's garden before they get up and notice. And get to school before that bloomin' bell'.