I feel curiously ill at ease today.
This morning, I dropped the car down to Spanner for its two-yearly service. I didn’t actually drop it, but you know what I mean.
So now I am stuck in the Manor for the day.
I had no intentions of going anywhere today, so why am I edgy? If I want anything from the village, I can walk. If I want to go any further, I can always phone our K8. I know she will drive me anywhere I want [if she doesn't want me to publish her diaries from her teen years, that is].
I get the car serviced every couple of years. It doesn’t really need it this time, but it’s better to be safe. I also need a wing mirror replaced. It was broken by a little bastard on a push-bike when he insisted on cycling too near my car. I’m going to sue the little fucker once he gets out of hospital.
It is a curious feeling, that I can’t just hop into the car and drive to Cavan. Why the hell I should want to drive to Cavan, I don’t know, but I can’t do it now, anyway.
I did ask Spanner if he had a Courtesy Car I could use. After he finished laughing, he said he’d do me the courtesy of not repeating that down in the pub.
So I am stuck here for the day. Maybe I’m stuck here longer, if Spanner can’t find a spare mirror off one of the wrecks in the sand pit.
If Brian ‘the Fucker’ Cowan wants my advice on urgent matters of state, he is going to have to come here for a change.