I’m an idiot. Again.
If you’re taking the rARshMobile out for a spin to Tesco (to keep the battery topped up and the engine, um, mobile), do not try to drive it as if it was as agile and nippy as the WTB otherwise you’ll be relying on others’ reactions being rather better than yours.
It does feel bizarre to drive something that big – I’ve hired small lorries before now for house moving and the like and I’m not getting the same feeling when sitting behind the wheel of the rARshMobile as I’d get sitting behind the wheel of a Luton van. Most odd.
I’m planning to take the rARshMobile down to Torchwood Town this weekend instead of the WTB. Partly to postpone the next visit to Constipation Motors (the 6,000 mile visit is a full service rather than just an oil change), partly because it’s easier for both dad and I to get in and out (especially if the weather’s foul) but mostly because – now that dad’s got a tumble drier – I can catch up on my own washing while I’m there! Cunning, eh?
After yesterday’s post I met a suicidal cyclist this morning, albeit one falling foul of Diamond Geezer’s gripe rather than my own.
There I was, sitting quitely at the front of the queue at the traffic lights at the foot of Grapes Hill when the lights went through their sequence. I waited – quite properly – for the lights to turn green and duly set off once they’d done so … only to slam the brakes on almost immediately when an idiot on a bike came out of Dereham Road at least 15 seconds after their lights had turned red. His face, as I came to a halt six inches from him, was a picture and he scurried backwards out of the way. Fortunately it was a beautifully sunny day (blue sky, fluffy white clouds, birds singing, etc.) so there was no glass or metal to hinder his hearing every word of my comments. Let’s just say he may have learned a number of rude words.
It was our second day in the new orifice and it’s certainly not as spacious as it appeared before everyone moved in. To tell the truth, it’s a bit dark and dismal – and, looking around, we’re actually sitting in the brightest corner. Goodness only knows how the others are feeling because it’s really getting me down. A bit.
Stubby’s a bit glum too, but not glum enough to take me up on my offer of a life home (maybe “Want a ride in my car, little girl?” wasn’t the best way to phrase the offer).
Tall Andy’s feeling rather unwell after a delayed return from Sri Lanka. I rang Kitten tonight to find he’d gone back to bed.
“Doesn’t he know you don’t jetlag when you’re heading west?”
“It’s not jetlag. He’s feeling very unwell.”
Oops. Poor Tall Andy.