I love my little car. It’s a Nissan Note and normally it runs smoothly. Over the past seven years, it’s started first time every time, it’s only had to have tyres and the odd wee thing replaced when they wore out and it’s generally been really reliable.
(above and below, gratuitous pictures of vintage cars)
Until yesterday. Yesterday my daughter had an appointment in a nearby town, so I went to pick her up from her school and the car died on me…right outside the school. I went and got my girl and we had to get a bus to her appointment. We were late, but we made it. We got a taxi back to the school and after waving her goodbye (she was out the taxi like a greyhound on a racetrack – I couldn’t even catch her for a kiss!), I paid the taxi (the driver turned out to be the hubby of someone we know) and tried to get my car to run again. I slipped the key in the ignition turned it and…NOTHING!
I was forced to call out the RAC. They arrived pretty quickly and the two guys couldn’t have been nicer.
Turns out the fuses had gone. How? No-one knows. Anyway, they got the car started and I managed to drive it down to one of our local garages. The guy there managed to get the part and fix it this afternoon but between yesterday and today, this is how I’ve viewed my little car…
Anyway, that was yesterday’s trauma. You know, for days I felt yesterday wouldn’t be good and it wasn’t. Weird that.
This week has been pretty busy and I feel I’ve barely sat down. It’s just been one of those weeks. Am really hoping things will quieten down so that I can get back to writing…I’ve done nothing for weeks. I need to get back.
Talking of writing and therefore, books, I’ve finished The Lonely Life and moved on to Bleak House by Dickens. Am going through a Dickens phase right now and enjoying every minute of it. Sometimes I can’t be bothered with him, his portrayal of women – the weak simpering kind – put me off (am thinking Little Dorrit here – I felt like slapping some sense into her by the end of the book she was far too good to be true) and I leave him for a while. Then the notion hits and I am right back to reading him. I just love his books.
Above: Dickens clean shaven and (below) Dickens beardy. I think Dickens looked better without the beard. I believe he grew it originally for a part he was acting and kept it. Personally I think the clean shaven look was nicer, but then again I like men to be clean shaven not beardy.
Anyway, I digress. Currently watching Hemlock Grove on Netflix. I can’t decide if I like it or not, but I feel compelled to watch it. What are Roman and his mother? What goes on in the white tower? And who is the creature murdering those girls? Damnit, I’m hooked to yet another American show.
On that note, I shall love you and leave you. Got to get ready for a health walk I’m doing with some friends. I’ve already walked for miles today, so am not looking forward to going out. However, once I’m out (and blethering) I’ll be fine!
Til next time.