Being a sober sort of driver, I rarely dabble with the fast lane. I consider myself a sober sort of person but there's the occasional flirtation with the fast lane lifestyle.
I took an early morning train from St Pancras International on Wednesday and it propelled me to Paris.
Just as we neared the capital I phoned to summon the family to meet me at the cafe over the road from home. However I was informed the girls had stayed out overnight with their chums.
The boy was brought to me in the cafe where he proceeded to gnaw and drool his way through bits of tartine. Ah sharing.
Wednesday is a high octane day even when I start the day in Paris. The girls have their activities and the boy usually has his swimming lesson.
I traipsed off with the eldest to her capoeira class and headed straight to the radio station.
There is no end of fun at the moment in the world of sport. The papers are full of the meltdown at Chelsea and then there's also the prospect of Andy Murray becoming the first male British tennis player to win a grand slam.
From what I've seen on the TV at the start of the season, he does have a good chance. He has beaten Rafael Nadal and Roger Federer - the world number one and two this season and from those matches, I'd say he's got the game to win the big prize in Melbourne.
Against Federer he rallies him à la Nadal and lures the increasingly error prone Swiss into a state of impatient frustration. Against Nadal he trades punch for punch. It's very impressive.
Fast lane Wednesday has now eased into mundane Thursday. A simple case of taking the boy to creche, the radio station and some yoga afterwards.
Altogether more zen.