Yesterday dawned a reasonably bright day with no rain and only a very light wind. I was relieved that it was so and that consequently the Old Bat announced after I had walked the dog that she would drive herself to the MS Centre for her hyperbaric oxygen session and do the Friday supermarket shop afterwards. I was relieved because this would free me for the morning so I could concentrate on the Lions paperwork that is building up. I really would lie to have it finished before we leave for France in the middle of next week and this would give me a full three hours to tackle the next issue of Jungle Jottings, draw up a duty list for the Lilac Lark fair, print out some more of our charter night menus (the card has to be fed into the printer one sheet at a time) and maybe, just maybe, make a start on the minutes of last Monday's zone meeting. I duly moved my car from the drive as the old duck would not want to drive the Passatt, and opened the garage for her to use her Micra. Next, to switch on the computer. But first, a cup of coffee and a few minutes with the paper.
I had drunk perhaps a third of my coffee when it dawned on me that I had not seen the Micra passing the kitchen door. And then the Old Bat called me through the open window.
"My car won't start."
I tried, but nothing was happening. I quickly swallowed the rest of the coffee, grabbed my wallet and brought the car back down the drive. No paperwork was going to be done that morning.
When we had unpacked the shopping I rang my breakdown company. At first I was told my membership had lapsed but I knew I had renewed it about two months ago - and that was confirmed by the chap in the membership department who apologised most profusely for his colleague's mistake. But to cut a long story short (as they say), the breakdown van arrived outside the house less than ten minutes after my call. Yes, that's right - less than ten - one oh - minutes after my call. What terrific service! After the mechanic started the car with a battery boost and it had been idling for 30 minutes or so, I moved it onto the road and, later, took it for a drive to finish charging the battery. Now the Old Bat just needs to replace the battery - which I think is the original and is therefore ten years old.
So, the boiler outflow pipe has been repaired, the washing machine ditto, and now the OB's car has refused to start. Things really do come in threes.
The view from the bedroom late yesterday afternoon.