Category Archives: Cars

The white knuckle drive

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We went on holiday at half term, of which more anon, and flew via Dubai.  Well, as my brother lives in Abu Dhabi, it seemed a little rude not to stop by to say hello so that is just what we did on our way home.  We arrived on Thursday afternoon and so were able to spend Thursday evening (their Friday night equivalent) and all day Friday (their Sunday equivalent) with little brother and his wife.  There was lots of talk amongst the local ex-pats on Thursday evening of the impending Grand Prix and on Friday we found ourselves on Yas Island, home to the Grand Prix circuit, having brunch at a neighbouring hotel. We spent the afternoon lazing by the pool and saw the lights on the F1 hotel come on as the sun went down.  It was a very pleasant, certainly decadent, way to end our holiday.

But all good things do come to an inevitable end and at 4am on Saturday morning a taxi pulled up outside the flat to drive us the 1 1/2 hours back to Dubai.  Continue reading →

On the buses

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schoolbus

Long, long ago, in my student days, I went to a talk by David Owen at Strathclyde University.  It was around the time that the Gang of Four were breaking away from the Labour Party to form the Social Democratic Party.  It was the first time I’d been to a public lecture by someone of his stature and I remember I was quite blown away by it.  He may not have been the orator of Michael Foot’s standing, but it was still very powerful stuff.  At around that time I also went to a rally where Shirley Williams, always one of my favourite politicians, was speaking.  I had friends who were doing Politics, you see, and they made sure I went to all the right events.  Anyhow, Shirley Williams was preceded by a local Councillor who introduced her with a rambling speech.  When her turn came, it was immediately clear that Williams was in another league. She may not have been glamorous but she oozed charisma. I’ve no idea now what she said, but I do remember the enormous gulf between the presentation skills of this leading politician and the local councillor.  There was no mistaking which of the two had made it to the top.

This memory returns to me every time one of our local councillors makes another gaffe and I try to remind myself that they’re surely doing their best and that it must be a truly thankless job being a local politician.  For instance, there was the issue over the swimming pools when my two were small.  Continue reading →

How to spend Christmas Eve. 2nd instalment

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(You thought I’d forgotten, didn’t you?)

“Midnight? Midnight?  It’s Christmas Eve for goodness sake.”  It was just as well it wasn’t me on the phone to the AA as it was at this point I suffered a sense of humour blackout.   “There are a lot of people having a far worse Christmas than this” I kept muttering to myself.

“Very sorry sir, but there are some people who’ve already been waiting almost 8 hours.”

“We’ve already been waiting 8 hours. You want us to wait another 8?”

I buy more coffee and some peanuts, the only gluten-free food available.  Despite the fact that we’ve been almost the only customers all day, the lady in the cafe still doesn’t acknowledge us.  Meanwhile GPD phones our best hope of rescue, but they’re already in Blackpool for Christmas.  Or Bolton or somewhere starting with a B off the M6.  We knew it was a long shot.

We debate trying to get the car back onto the motorway, to bump ourselves back up the priority list.   Unfortunately, though, we figure that might result in a priority ride to A&E so abandon that plan.

Harthill’s only saving grace is the free WiFi.  Continue reading →

How to spend Christmas Eve. 1st Instalment

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So how do you like to spend Christmas Eve?

Option 1

A leisurely walk, maybe, in all that glittering new snow. Build a snowman and throw a friendly snowball or two at your offspring. Back home to a nice warm fire and listen to the Nine Lessons and Carols while making a few last minute mince pies and icing the Christmas cake.  A pleasant family evening meal then enjoy a glass of port and one of those mince pies while wrapping up the last presents in front of that roaring fire.  Perhaps venture out to Midnight Mass, although all that snow might pose a bit of a problem.  Wait up until the small hours when your teenagers might possibly be asleep and do the Santa Claus routine. (I did wonder about getting up early and doing this bit in the morning, but teens can be very unpredictable.)

Option 2

You’ve spent the 23rd cleaning, emptying the fridge, putting the rubbish out, packing, having a family meal with leftovers.  All that snow has been beckoning but has been firmly ignored.   Come the late evening, there’s just time to collapse in front of the fire with a glass of port and a pile of presents to wrap.  Early start on the 24th, pile into the car and head down the frozen motorway towards the green fields of the deep south of Somerset.  Brave the traffic jams on the M6/M5 parking lots but arrive in time for a warm welcome, a glass of wine and a huge evening meal, courtesy of Mother-in-law.  Head for the midnight service in the tiny village church and then the Santa Claus bit. Maybe next year I’ll set an alarm for the early hours so that we can sneak in unheralded. When do they grow out of stockings?

Option 3

Same scenario on the 23rd.  Tramp through the snow to load the car in the early hours of the 24th and set out a little nervously on the frozen motorways for our Christmas adventure.  The main roads are more or less clear so we decide not to take our normal route via Biggar through the hills of the Borders.  Good decision.  But in this version, the car breaks down near Glasgow.   Stops.  We turn round to head back along the M8 to home and the other car but it stops again. refuses to go any further. So, at 0830, we call the 4th emergency service, the AA.

With the prompt arrival of a 911 breakdown truck, things didn’t seem too bad initially.  After all, we weren’t that far from home.  But, as we drove off, our rescuer was told to drop us at the nearest services rather than take us home, and the AA would take over from there.  So it would be that, rather than icing the Christmas cake or heading down the road to that welcoming dinner in Somerset, we were destined to spend the day at Harthill Services.

Option 3, our choice of course, went something like this:

“There’ll be someone there at 11 to take you home.”

Just time for a cup of coffee and bacon rolls, then.

“It’ll be 1pm before we get to you.”

More coffee, keep the coats on (the snow outside was deep) and make use of the free WiFi.

“There’s someone on the way – 2.30”.

Buy a pack of cards.  Harthill Services is a petrol station with a small cafe, for those of you who haven’t had the pleasure.

“The earliest we can get to you is 4pm.”

Groan.  Start wondering who we can call.  Whose numbers we’ve got and who would be brave enough to venture out in the deteriorating weather. And then, at 4.30ish:

“It looks like it’ll be midnight before we can pick you up.”

More to follow…

Spring Bling

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strikespan.jpgI seem to have been on a Blog-battical for the last few weeks.  Life getting in the way.  But now the writers’ strike is over, there’s really no excuse is there?  No picket lines to cross.  Oh, you mean I don’t get paid for this, never mind royalties?  Still, we creative types have to stick together, to show some solidarity.    So now the red carpet’s been rolled out,  it would be truly churlish of me not to acknowledge, finally, much overdue, with tears rolling down my face and thanking the angels in the city – where was I? – not to acknowledge an award from Potty Mummy. [excellentblog.jpg] I’m not sure that I deserve this, given my recent silence, but I’ll accept it gladly.  And I promise not to compare it to my agent’s buttocks.  As if. 

To quote from Potty Mummy, this award originated with a Canadian blogger, who stated:  Continue reading →

Cars

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We are a two car family.  On second thoughts, make that 2.5 – the venerable MGB still moulders away at the bottom of the garden under a dustsheet and the plum tree.  Anyhow, as my driving activites have been curtailed somewhat for the foreseeable future, we have recently attempted to add other drivers to the insurance.  First of all, Grandma.   “Too old!” said the insurance company, not appreciating that despite her years she is more active than the average 60 year old.  Then a friend’s car failed its MOT. “Borrow ours!” I offered.  “It’s going to be sitting there for the next 6 weeks.”  So I phoned the insurance company once more.  “That’s fine” they said.  “But he’s a Police Officer.  We can’t insure him for driving to work.”  Duh?  What do policemen do on their way to work?  “OK,  so put his wife on.”  “But she’s a housewife.  We can’t insure her at all.”  Clearly a high risk occupation, being a housewife.

The girl on the other end of the phone was both puzzled and apologetic.  I was apoplectic.  The car is still sitting there saving the planet.  This has to be bureaucracy at its finest moment.  So KwikFit, if you’re listening, we’ll be switching to DirectLine next year.  Adding an extra driver to one of their policies is simple, efficient and cheap.