A cool breeze rips through the wide open car window, tangling my hair as it blows in any direction available. Every attempt to blow my hair noisily out of my face fails miserably, each tuck behind the ears lasts only a few seconds. Each tickle of hair in my nostrils, the sting of hair in my eyes, worsens my already dampened mood. Fumbling at the foot of the car, I pull the only handbag I own towards me by one strap. The multitude of contents clatter onto my lap as I shake it upside down. There's got to be a damn hair bobble in here somewhere! I sift through an array of random bits and bobs; chewing gum that's been in there far longer than I dare to remember, old receipts, an empty shots bottle, even a spare pair of knickers, because Mother Nature is a bitch. In the entire chaos that spills on the floor, there is not one single hair bobble. So I do as any girl would in my situation. I use the - still clean mind - knickers to secure my hair into a low ponytail. Much better.

"Stay classy, Em," Sarah laughs as she fumbles with the music on her phone while we wait for the traffic lights to change back to green. "I'm in the mood for some Aerosmith. You cool with that?"

Stuffing the items back into my handbag, I nod. What a daft question. I'm always up for some Aerosmith. The lyrics to Cryin' fill the car, the volume increasing as Sarah taps frantically on the button of her steering wheel. With my eyes closed, I sing loudly alongside my best friend, as we have done together all our lives. We sing until the song fades and we're left panting for breath.

"You know, I'm still gutted you wouldn't sing at the wedding, Em. You've an amazing voice."

My knuckles crack loudly, neck rolling around my shoulders. We've had this conversation more times since Sarah texted me a photo of her engagement ring than is humanly possible. I know I have an okay voice, that I'm not tone deaf, but singing in front of a room of strangers is more than my poor nerves could bear. Still, Sarah is as stubborn as they come and will no doubt push the conversation until the wedding reception is well and truly over. Then she'll never let me live it down. It's a completely lose-lose situation for me. I exhale.

"Fine. You win. I'll do it, but just one song. And I sure as hell will not be singing for your first dance. Happy?"

Sarah jiggles in her seat, face lit up. Seeing her so ecstatic, knowing that I'm the reason for the glow in her cheeks and glimmer in her eyes, stirs my stomach. I want to tell her how I feel, can feel the words lodge themselves in my throat, but something else entirely comes out.

"I'm hungry!" I shout, cheeks reddening at the sheer volume.

Sarah jumps and turns her head to face me. "Erm, alright, let's make a pit stop. I could do with something to eat myself."

I bury my face in my hands. This is going to be the longest ride of my life. I don't join Sarah in her rendition of Boyzone, suddenly overwhelmed with nausea once more. Though this time, I'm almost certain the drink is not to blame.

"There's a Shell garage coming up, we can stop there if you want?" she shouts above the music, now turned to full volume.

I nod, put on the best fake smile I can, and turn to look out of my window. A sea of vehicles pass us by, people smoking out of their windows, children shouting in the back seats - their parents with their head rested against the back of their chairs, a look of defeat on their faces. I don't envy those people. It makes me glad to not have children. Nasty little things.

The car barely stops before I open my door and step out. The feeling of freedom is instantaneous. Sarah steps beside me, linking her arm through mine before veering us into the garage. A cool breeze floats onto us, my skin instantly pricking. Sarah, however, sighs and stands with her arms outstretched, basking in the change of temperature. I leave her where she is, wanting to get what I need and back into the warm as quick as possible. I despise anything cold or wet. It's one of the only reasons I've allowed myself to feel any excitement for the upcoming nuptials. A wedding on a beach in Spain, with nothing but beautiful sunshine, sounds like heaven. Well, the beautiful sunshine at least.

With snacks and drinks barely contained in my arms, I make my way to the till, careful not to drop anything from the pyramid I've formed. Four steps down the bakery aisle, freshly baked doughnuts catch my eye. Oh god, I need those! Reaching a hand out, bent at the elbow to try and balance the items I already have, my fingers brush the packet before everything rains down on me. A can of coke sprays and circles on the ground, soaking the bottom of my leggings and the floor. Packets of crisps slide under the shelves, the jar of pickled onions smashes, its juices merging with the cola to make a vile concoction. 

"Fuck!"

"I can't take you anywhere Em," Sarah laughs, her head poking from around the corner. "Stay there, I'll get someone."

Heat rises on my face burning my ears. Sarah's voice, loud and unphased, declares to every shopper of my 'mishap' as she calls it. The shop assistant sounds far from pleased as they make an announcement into what I assume is a walkie talkie. Dear God, let the ground swallow me now. People sidestep as they pass, shaking their heads as though they've never had an accident in their life. Maybe they haven't, who knows, but their judgement pisses me off. I need to get out of this place. 

With mumbled apologies, I leave a young shop assistant to clean my mess, my appetite suddenly quenched. I all but sprint to the car, pull my sealtbelt over me and bang my head twice on the dashboard. Today just could not get any worse.