Life is like a box of chocolates – so said Forest Gump. But Mine is more like a box of soap powder, I feel as though I’m living in a Soap Opera. Not one of these moderns ones with Sex, Lesbians and “issues that may have affected you” you understand, just a “gritty Northern drama.”
My experiences of the last 24 hours for example have elements of drama, tragedy and comedy, the perfect ingredients for say, and episode of Heartbeat, but without the whodunit or an obvious plotline where Claude almost but not quite gets arrested.
The scene starts with a wintry day at work – five or six inches of snow have fallen back home and wife calls to advise me of this and that if I can’t get through she has arranged that I can stay with the in laws on the outskirts of the city rather than battle through 13 miles of snowbound roads with stupid people driving at 20 miles per hour because they are frightened of a little snow. I point out that I don’t have my pyjamas with me. She counterpoints that I don’t wear them at home. I suggest that I ought to have them whilst at the in laws and suggest she takes them to Preston for me. She declines saying that the roads are too bad. Huh- women.
Regardless of her doubting my driving God status I drive home without mishap anyway – the Black Knight Always Triumphs! So far so good, a little comedic light relief.
Now DRAMA! For no apparent reason, Thomas, 7 years, falls off his chair at the dinner table. Part contortionist, part Stan Laurel he somehow manages to get his bare foot under the chair as it falls with the edge of the back section (are you following this?) landing heavily across his foot, and incredibly at the same time manages to out his full bodyweight back onto the falling chair. After a quick check I was pretty certain nothing was broken, and as we get a new dining suite at Christmas I wasn’t too worried. But I wasn’t so sure about his foot, there are a lot of little bones in those little feet. So it was off for an evening of entertainment courtesy of the casualty department. In a new world record we were actually seen by a triage nurse within 5 minutes of arrival, thus the NHS trust was able to claim they had achieved targets. Almost four hours later the doctor examined him and declared the all clear, with just some severe bruising. So a 24 mile round trip through artic weather conditions for nothing. Thanks Thomas. And to cap it all I was almost defeated I getting my car into the garage, a lack of grip looked like forcing it to stay outside overnight, but some old carpet came to the rescue (a little trick granddad would have approved of) and the car was put to bed smug and warm.
And then the ungrateful bastard failed to start the next morning. Failed to start is an exaggeration actually. It failed to attempt to start the battery was as flat as a weak old Shandy, and the engine just gave that ominous dead click. Attaching my boost starter resulted in the engine turning slowly with an assortment of horrendous rattles which caused me some consternation. Please Gods, let the cam belt be okay – I only had it changed 6000 miles ago. I took off the oil filler cap to see if the engine was all turning over, and not just the bottom end – and promptly dropped the oil filler cap down the front of the engine behind the radiator and just out of reach on top of the under tray. “Hucking Fell” I cursed to myself. (this ought to be a moorland walk, but probably isn’t, I suspect it is a Spoonerism) So now I had a flat battery and no oil cap.
A quick search around the junk on my garage and a moment or two later a makeshift cap was fabricated out of an old seatbelt adjustment winder and some Duct tape. (Duct tape – an approved engineering solution and like the force in Star Wars – it has a light side, a dark side and holds the Universe together) Now for some jumps leads and a quick start off Jennys Honda. Done, engine started and oooeeer missus, warning light Bingo – a full line and then some, with error codes pinging off my Kiwi like there is no tomorrow (there may not be, who knows for sure) Then just as thing seemed to settle down the headlights started flashing and the radio was coming on and off all on it’s own. Had a rock n Roll song been on the radio I’d have been quite happy the car would have fixed itself in the style of Christine, but as it was some modern crap I knew there was something seriously wrong. Rather than face a breakdown on the road I decided to let the car idle a while to see what happened, and what happened within about 2 minutes is that it ran out of electricity all together and died.
At this point I realised I would not bee driving to work and sensibly phoned in to arrange time off. (The idea of ringing in sick didn’t even enter my head – I’m just too honest or stupid for that) I could have probably claimed to have been snowed in, there was snow outside after all, and technically speaking I couldn’t get my car through the snow, just that it wasn’t the depth of the snow that was the problem, just the car “failing to proceed.”
At nine I rang my local parts guy to price up a Battery (about £60) but having described what was wrong he suggested I bring the car in as he could check if it was the battery or the alternator at fault. For the first time ever I was praying it was just a battery problem – I had seen where the alternator was and didn’t relish the idea of trying to change it. A quick jump start after a couple of hours to oput some life in the battery and it was off to Hedon in daylight – no lights, no signalling no radio or heater – nothing to use up that precious electricity. I left it running and had the checks done only to get the worse news. The alternator was not alternating. Nothing for it but to head back home and get the local spanner monkey to fit a new one.
3 miles short of the garage disaster and drama struck again as I ran out of electricity. Fortunately, this car has Mayday cover as it is the car used for the caravan towing duties, and Willinghams were dispatched for a free recovery. Despite being told I had run out of electrickery they sent a service van instead of a tow truck, as they thought a jump start would get me going again. No such luck, but a battery pack connected with a “heath Robinson” cable through the cigarette lighter (and held together with duct tape!) The car was dropped off at the garage and I walked the last ¾ mile or so home to find no tyre tracks leaving Jenny’s side of the garage. Odd, she should have gone to work by then. Maybe the school had closed due to the weather. So in I went, made a pot of tea for her and took it up to her office to surprise her. Well surprise to me – she wasn’t home. Surely she hadn’t had a problem with her car? And the roads weren’t that bad – aha – I guessed she had been cancelled from work due to the schools closing, and had gone to our school to collect the kids as that one was closing too. After waiting a few minuites I realised that couldn’t be the case either – she’d be back by now. After several failed efforts I finally got her on her mobile – at work. Why had she walked – the main roads were clear, and she doesn’t normally relish a walk more than a mile or so – it’s about 4 down to Burstwick, and that’s cross country in thick snow. Well it seems she believed I had taken her car, and as I wasn’t back and tiem was creeping on she had walked. She hadn’t even checked the garage!
On the positive side, as my car remains at Boyes Lane my side of the garage is empty tonight so at least I have somewhere to sleep.
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