“I need a lift home tonight love, don’t forget Eldest and I are off to see City in Europe”.
“OK – I’ll see you around 4:40”.
That was at lunchtime during my daily phone call to Dearest. Apparently this makes her day! So much so that that song by Dido (the one that
Later in the afternoon Dearest calls me.
“I’m about 10 minutes away”.
So I pack up for the day and go and wait outside the factory.
10 minutes pass by. 15. 20. No Dearest. I take out my phone and call her. Ansaphone – then my battery goes. Shit!
I’m starting to get worried now. Why should she be this late? What should I do – wait? Or should I start walking in the general direction she should be coming. I decide on the latter. 10 minutes later I see Dearest walking towards me.
“Where’s the car?”
“Down the road with smoke pouring out of the bonnet. One minute everything was fine, the next……”
“Smoke???”
“Yeah – loads of it. I think it’s pretty serious. I’ve phoned the RAC. They’ll be here in about an hour”
“Smoke???”
“Yeah I told you – smoke!”
“And you’ve left it? It could’ve burst into flame by now. You should’ve stayed with it”.
“I would have done but your bloody phone was turned off and I didn’t know what to do”.
“No it wasn’t turned off, the battery’s gone but you should have stayed….if it had gone up you could have at least phoned the fire brigade – Jesus! Fancy just leaving it”.
Anyway the conversation carried on like this as we walked back to the car. The atmosphere was decidedly frosty. As we approached the car however, there was no “smoke” to be seen.
“Where’s the smoke?”
“I don’t know I’m not a mechanic.”
“OK OK no need for the sarcasm. Was there no warning at all? No lights flashing on the dashboard or anything?”
“Well…..yes a light had been flickering while I was still on the motorway but I didn’t know what it was. I was going to ask you when I picked up.”
The car had actually overheated due to there being hardly any coolant in it at all. The “smoke” was actually steam and the RAC man was coming out for no reason really. The car is mainly used by Dearest – in fact I can’t remember the last time I drove it, but when anything goes wrong with it it’s my fault. So when I explain that it had simply overheated and that the light on the dashboard was warning that the temperature was rising, I get accused of being a patronising git. Yeah well maybe I was a bit OTT, but you must remember that not long before I had been presented with a scenario of possibly apocalyptic proportions at the junction of the A663 and the A6104.
Dearest then refused to phone the RAC to cancel the call out arguing – successfully I thought – that my skills vis-à-vis car engines were woefully inadequate and she-would-rather-hear-what-the-RAC-man-had-to-say-about-the-situation-thank-you-very-much.
“Did you tell them you were a woman alone?” I asked.
“Yes – because I was”.
“Ahhh, but you’re not now. It’ll look like you just told them that so they would give you priority treatment. They will think you were cheating! You’ll have to phone them now and cancel or you’ll look a fool.”
Case closed I thought. Wrong.
5 minutes later and I’m
Knackered I was when I got home. Absolutely knackered. Hardly any time to spare though before I’m off out down to The City of Manchester Stadium for tonight’s match. A mere walkover was on the cards for the lads in Sky Blue as the lowly Belgian opposition was languishing at the bottom of their league and was ripe for the picking. That was the theory anyway. We did manage a win in the end – 3-2, but the plucky buggers have acquired 2 away goals and, should the 2 legs end in a draw, away goals count double. It’s going to be tough next month in Lokeren.
Dearest later phoned to let me know that, for once, I had been correct about the car and the nice RAC man had put some coolant in it.
After the game, Eldest’s driving skills ensured we got back home in plenty of time for the pub where we discovered Dearest and Youngest sat with Higher-than-a-Ten-John. A discussion centred on Keegan’s lack of tactical awareness followed as 2 or 3 pints each were pulled for last orders. As I looked around I noticed that our group were probably the youngest in the room.
Wednesday night is “Blue Rinse and False Teeth” night. For some reason the Old Folk of the area feel safe to venture forth believing – possibly correctly – that the local muggers, disrespectful yobs and ne’er-do-wells have to have at least one night a week off. Wednesday – they reason – must be the one. So out they come generally dressed as though for a Saturday evening. Posh frocks and jackets, shirts and ties. There are a few exceptions to this dress code – but not many. Peer pressure never fades does it? As the evening wears on the noise from these gangs of geriatrics gets louder and louder as the stout, brown ale, bitter and medicinal brandy flows down their grizzled necks. Observations are repeated again and again until everyone at the table has heard and understood. Jokes are cracked, drinks are quaffed and the advancing years slip away. By the end of the evening what were surly looking buggers on arrival, leave the premises *un-surled* with smiles on their faces and a cheery “Good night, God bless” for everyone in earshot. Then home to sleep the sleep of the dead and wake in the small hours with full bladders and aching heads.
It comes to us all.
I’ve ordered a reconditioned Psion Revo off t’internet as my Palm Pilot is now officially bolloxed. Youngest has had one for a while and I do like the snazzy keyboard. Much better than other PDAs with their annoyingly fancy ways of entering text. Should be here in a couple of days.
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