M O Tears.
It is becoming clear to me that Sergei Vasilievich Rachmaninoff is turning into one of my favourite composers. Whether I am walking through rain and mist or driving through the white Birch Trees of Grombridge Woods, Sergei's strings do it to me.
Good old Sergei accompanied me to Dartford and back, then down to the MOT garage .
I gave them the keys to my little red car and left it for 30 minutes.
Walked into TESCO, my least favourite shopping experience. Bought 6 Brussle sprouts, 6 tomatoes, milk, and boring things I cant remember.
Walked back through the wire netting and the girl from the garage was dangling my keys.
'Done that quick?' I said with a huge beaming grin.'That's good.'
'No it aint,' said the key dangler, 'Where's your exhaust?'
I looked at my car like it was the elephant in the room. My automobile with its boot, four tyres, hood and stereo was missing a a long silver pipe. The pipe that had always been there was there no longer. I have no idea where the pipe is but some hedgerow somewhere is sporting a silver tube off the back of my car.
The mechanic drove it across the yard into the opposite garage. Not only did they have to order me a new pipe but three new tyres were necessary.
'Look at it this way.' said the garage man.'Nothing was wrong it was wear and tear.'
'Yeah' I said unclear as to what he meant still;
'Make it four' I said nonchalantly, my bank balance sinking to my knees.
It took as long as it takes to go and get £50 cash to pay for the MOT, 'No cards just cash.' they said breezily, from the free cash machine next to the supermarket.
Off with the old and on with the new, the sweet smell of rubber in my nostrils.
'Drive safely.' said the boys. 'The wheels are shiny and new and this rain could have you tail spinning.'
'See you tomorrow' we chorused.
So at 23 miles an hour I drove home.
The nurse from my mothers home called. The news was shudderingly awful. She is confused, thats my ma not the nurse, and keeps taking the bandages off her own legs. Refuses to sleep in her bed so her severely ulcerated legs are not getting a chance to heal properly because she needs to raise them up. Added to which she has heart and kidney problems and at the age of 90 they are looking at the distinct possibility of amputation if they cant get her legs right.
I felt my body turn to jelly.
The only thing to do was to call my brother, who was brilliant, and told me to take each bridge at the time of crossing. The only other thing to do was go to the cinema.
I sat alone, with a small bag of salty popcorn and watched THE HUNGER GAMES. A hideous concept played perfectly by Woody Harrelson, Stanley Tucci and a cast of young, beautiful people. It's a very good film, for me and the younger set who were enthralled by it.
I walked across the foyer, resisted all the sweeties and chocolates, ice creams and hot dogs and took my seat for THE PIRATES. A deliciously silly animated film by Aardman an Co. Hugh Grant and Martin Freeman voicing the daftest pirates ever. It's clever, witty and in 2 & 3D. To be fair I hate 3D it dulls all the colour and the big glasses hurt my nose as they have to sit on top of my real glasses without which I am hopelessly myopic, even on a big screen I can't see nuffink. but the film still tickled my fancy.
My phone vibrated in the middle of the sea scene, the dawter coming home for a huge family gathering this weekend.
So I drove at 23 miles an hour to Seven Oaks - mindful of my new tyres - and we trickled home.
This morning I missed Desert Island Discs as I had to drive down to the garage to leave the keys with the exhaust pipe people.
I walked into the twillage - 3 miles away -and met up with the gel. We bought nibbles for the old man who'll be home at around ten tonight, then into the Factory store to buy cheap rubbish, then into the lovely shop 'ZEST' to buy gifts and cards for tomorrow, then she dove me to the garage to pick up my new little car.
The gel was preparing lunch.
Big salad then a snooze in the sun - unintentional - and now its a settle down for Friday Night before Gods Gift gets home.
My car, I have to say is £600 better off and is driving like a dream. I worked it out if it costs £300 a year to keep my little Red Nellie on the road its a small price to pay.
'YES' I hear you all cry. Support me please.....
Jeni Barnett tells of her scrumptious time at Good Food Live in her first audiobook! Download NOW from iTunes
It wasn't DID, it was the Reunion and last week it was all about the Greenham Common camp. And the men speaking on the programme were still just as dsmissive as they were at the time.
YesI - because the little red car gives you a much needed autonomy when you live in wildest Sussex ... !
I love the efforts you have put in this, regards for all the great articles.
Good Morning, I just stopped by to visit your site and thought I'd say I enjoyed myself.