Well, I’m glad that’s over.

I had a spot of bother getting to sleep last night. I’m not sure whether it was too much or too little whiskey but I finally managed to drop off around three or half past.

Two hours later the fucking alarm woke me with its cheerless little melody [its the best of a very bad lot of ring-tones – the rest would wake me in a rage]. So we managed to down about half a cup of tea each and then hit the road.

Now my SatNav insists that the shortest way is over the mountains. That may be true but the roads are very narrow and twisty and there is an excellent chance of running head on into someone coming the other way. The second alternative is a considerably quicker and safer route but nearing Dublin it has a rake of fucking traffic lights so it gets congested easily. The third option is to head straight onto the motorway but that is potentially a car park so I decided to take the second rout and chance the traffic lights.

Herself had other ideas.

“Go in by the motorway.” The tone suggested that if I didn’t do as told there would be conniptions and blood spilt. I took the motorway.

Surprisingly we got there bang on a quarter past seven which was the given time for the appointment. Not surprisingly the place was almost deserted which at least meant I could park the car in the perfect spot just at the hospital entrance.

Herself was given the usual once over with machines that beeped a lot. The nurse said she was in for a knee replacement. Herself nearly shat herself. She wanted her knees replaced but not today! After some consultations with the specialist the nurse announced that she was just down for anaesthetic and a couple of deep joint injections. The nurse told me it would take about an hour so I fucked off in search of a coffee to wake me up.

I sat in the restaurant and had several coffees. The hour passed. I went for a walk outside and had a smoke [not pleasant because of the traffic fumes – very bad for my health]. Another hour passed. I went back up to the area where Herself was admitted, and sat in the waiting room and dozed. Another hour passed.

Eventually my mobile rang so I answered it. It was the nurse: was I at home? I said no; I was outside her door.

They gave me breakfast which was nice.

Now I had checked my calendar last night and discovered that my car test was at a quarter past one, and not eleven as I had somehow thought. It was only just after half ten so I drove Herself home. Dumped her in bed with a mug of tea and gave the dog a cuddle as she had been on her own [the cat doesn’t count as company in Penny’s opinion].

So back I went up the motorway and got to the test centre bang on one fifteen. When I checked in though he said my appointment was in fact for one forty five. I had put the wrong time in my calendar! I had a bit of a wait as it was lunchtime, and to make matters worse, I had left my pipe at home. Shit!

Anyhows I am back home. Herself is dozing in the bedroom, the car has passed its test [with flying colours], the dog has forgiven my absences and I am royally fucked.

I am taking the rest of the week off.

Or maybe the month?

A year?