The joy of writing and knowing people who write is that half your conversations end up being about writing, which is a peculiarly nerdy joy that should have most of the writers reading this nodding with a rueful grin.
Lady M and Mre B have both signed up to post their occasional thoughts and stories appear here, but now a new competitor has fluttered her eyelids and asked for space to post some of her more factual ruminations.
The inimitable Lady G has been brave enough to stick her head above the parapet, so being the malicious soul that I am, I’ve called her bluff. Let’s see where this goes shall we?
I took the runaround to have it’s MOT inspection yesterday, and on the way there I could tell there was going to be trouble. The oil light flickered briefly and then stopped, it coughed and stuttered as I queued in nose to tail traffic, and it really didn’t like reversing round a corner.
And yet it was still a shock to hear that it had catastrophically failed the test, especially because of all the plans for the rest of the day that I’d sort of arranged in my head.
The minute I heard the words cracked head gasket, I knew that our sixteen year old Ford Focus would not be rolling back into the road with me. The litany of other faults that seemed to have materialised out of nowhere were a little more alarming – and gave me the impression of the car having coughed and wheezed its way on to the ramp before letting all its guts fall out.
A bit of a pain, and one that feels like it cut my feet out from under me a little. Plans are afoot to sort out a replacement, but it seems to have now made this week rather more busy than expected