I woke still feeling less than one hundred per
cent, made toast and slobbed in front of the telly watching an episode of
"Fresh Meat" in which one of our heroes had the misfortune of
having her mother come to visit. I particularly dislike TV shows in which
parents are shown to be less than perfect. The implication is always that all
parents are rubbish which disrespects those that aren't, and is particularly
upsetting for those who could have done better. Like me.
I
resisted the temptation to rummage in the Internet this morning; I had to be at
Pembury rather early so I got going.
As I drove down the road there was some utter drivel on the radio so I turned it off and sang along to my rather "special" choice of music. Ultravox, ELO, Sparks, Ivor Biggun, Kate Bush, Boomtown Rats, Martha and the Muffins... I howled along with the best of them. As I drove I realised something. I've been doing driving all wrong for these last forty years. If you look at any road you will see a broken white line running down the middle. I always though that it divided the road into two sides so the traffic going in opposite directions doesn't crash head-on into each other. Judging by the traffic on the A28, A262 and A21 this morning it seems that is *not* what it is for. It would appear that when driving you are supposed to drive along that dotted white line, and if anyone comes in the other direction you then play a game of "chicken" with them in the hope that they will get out of your way. After thirty miles this became rather tiresome.
I got to work for my sixteenth weekend shift of this year. It was rather busy, and featured a "Red Alert". A "Red Alert" is a lot more stressful and a lot less exciting than when you see them on "Star Trek". If I had my time again I would work somewhere that doesn't have them on a regular basis.
Being the weekend I treated myself to dinner in the works canteen. Chili and rice, chocolate pudding with custard. Good stuff. As I worked I looked out of the window at the glorious day outside. I don't mind working at the weekends when the weather is grotty, but I'm less keen on it when the weather is good. A colleague told me her daughter was going swimming today. It looked like a good day for swimming. I was told that it was the ideal sort of day for swimming during a pandemic.
Have you been swimming recently? Apparently the swimming pool in Tunbridge Wells doesn't offer any changing facilities any more. In this brave new world of coronageddon you are expected to turn up already in your swimmies. The pool staff offer you a box into which you drop your robe and anything that doesn't go into the pool with you. And then once you've done your swimming you go home dripping wet.
I slipped out of work a
few minutes early. As I’d driven to work earlier the car had sounded a tad
noisy, and when I looked at my car in the car park the exhaust pipe looked to
be hanging off. The local Kwik Fit was less than two miles from work and they
said they could have a look at it for me.
I
must admit I have reservations about Kwik Fit. The Ashford branch once replaced
an exhaust pipe on a car of mine and managed to weld the main lead from the
battery to that pipe and short circuit the entire car. However that episode
happened long before “My Boy TM” was born and that branch was
bulldozed in 1992. In the meantime I have had very good experiences with other
branches of Kwik Fit. I really should give them the credit they deserve.
I
got to Kwik Fit. They got the car up on the ramp, saw the problem, fixed it,
and I was on my way in less than twenty minutes. There was also an added bonus.
The problem I’d had was that one of the brackets holding the exhaust pipe in
place had rusted through, and the other was about to throw in the sponge too. I
said to replace both. As I sat waiting I heard one chap bellow across the workshop
to his mate asking how much the brackets cost. His mate replied that they were
forty-eight quid each not counting VAT. When I came to pay the bill was
ninety-six quid. That was the cost of the two brackets, no VAT and no labour
charge. Result!
I
came home and (for want of anything else to do) mowed the lawn. The
grass had grown impressively in the few short days since I last mowed it. And
by the time I’d mowed it the temperature had fallen enough to take the dogs
out.
We
took them up to Kings Wood – I’d had reports of a geocache of mine having gone
missing. I think it had. I couldn’t find it so I replaced it. Whilst we were in
the area we called up the Munzee map. When we hadn’t been paying attention a
whole load of geo-art had appeared in the area. Rather impressive – it is only
a shame that there is such poor mobile data signal in the area.
With walk walked we watched more “Ade in Britain” whilst scoffing pizza and ironing shirts. We’ve now got the film “Star Trek III” on the telly. They only have a yellow alert in that film. Perhaps I might get on better with yellow alerts rather than red ones…
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