I've been on holiday. I've eased myself back into work - well eased myself back through the door. A relaxing week has been had in Scotland hooning through the highlands and enjoying the summer rain. Idyllic it was. The silence interrupted only by the babble of brooks, the sweet tweet of bird song and the sound of a TVR squashing rabbits.

A few days of rest and relaxation, pies and ale and wind and rain proved just the job for shedding my stresses.

So why is it that I can't retain that peace of mind, that spiritual harmony that endured last week? On the way home I noticed that I got more and more tense as we headed further south. After much muttering and pondering I concluded that stress is contageous. It wasn't the fact that there were more cars on the road that was stressing me. It wasn't the fact that I was breathing air that was more petrol than petunia. It was the close proximity of other stressed drivers.

Wittering to myself that if I couldn't beat them, then I might be able to beat them up, I slipped into the same idiotic, discourteous and dangerous style of driving that everyone else was enjoying.

As I carved my way onto the motorway I pondered that the 'Me, me, me' society we live in now has no room for courtesy any more. If I show courtesy to someone by letting them through a gap I now expect a wave of thanks, a flash of the lights and a box of chocolates waiting for me when I get home. Gratitude? Goodwill to all men? Not any more, I'm in a hurry and my journey is more important than anyone else's.

I realised that I've become over protective of my personal space. I've turned into one of those idiots protecting the area around my car. I don't leave a safe gap in front - I edge up on the rear wing of the car on the inside lane to block him from moving out into my sacred space. I don't check my mirrors for hazards, I check for predators. Is that cretin in the Astra close enough for me to brake test him? Idiot. Should I leave that box junction free or will someone nip in front of me and gain a few yards on me? Should I jump that red light to shake off the git behind me or will he follow me through? Can I make the Zebra crossing before Mrs Miggins puts a foot on it? Should I let that hopeless mum in the MPV out or should I curse her for not walking? Shall I park there or will the hopeless tart in her Corsa bang her door into my car?

Yesterday I was calm. Today, I'm stressed, protective, distrustful and discourteous. It's good to be back.