I got a bit of news yesterday.
Apparently I have landed myself a lemon.
On Sunday evening there was one hell of a racket in the front of the Manor – someone frantically ringing the bell and hammering on the door. People don’t realise that it takes me a while to walk the length of the house, ducking and diving through a few low doors on the way. Anyways, it was Spanner standing there with a grin on his face. I had completely forgotten that he had promised to collect the car to bring it for a service.
Spanner is a man of his word so I should have remembered but that didn’t bother Spanner – “Ya forgot, didn’t ya?” says he with a smirk.
So we chatted briefly about the warning light on the dashboard and off he went, leaving his old banger in my front garden
Yesterday I was out in the garden doing what people do in their gardens when my phone rang. It was Spanner.
He sounded somewhat glum. He proceeded to tell me all that was wrong with my relatively new vehicle. Not only was there a lot of problems but they were fucking expensive with the bill rapidly heading for four figures. His summary was that the make of car was fine and
cheap reasonably priced but that spare parts were really fucking expensive, Shit!
Before anyone claims that mechanics love loading bills, I should say that I trust Spanner completely. He never does anything unless it’s necessary and tries to keep the costs as low as possible. I have been relying on him for about twenty five or more years and he has never ever overcharged by a cent.
So I am still sans voiture. The only problem is that Herself is running low on fags but that’s her problem.
I’m not worried about the final cost either.
It’s all coming out of the Grandkids’ inheritance.