Tyred,emotional,freaked...

It’s annoying to be back at the tyre-fitters.

Four weeks ago, we had new tyres fitted. I rather pointedly refused the extra insurance on each tyre…reasoning, not unreasonably, that the goods should be sold fit for purpose….and that barring an improbable tyre-slashing outbreak in the village…they should stand up to whatever the French roads throw at them…so I would take my chances…

Now there’s a problem with one of the tyres. There is a slow leak.

The guy is standing there in his breeze-block bureau, wearing a pair of those ubiquitous tight blue overalls favoured by French grease-monkeys.

But I’m lost for words. Stunned into silence. My eyes are glued to the thing that is stuck on his lower lip.

It is a hair. Wiry and grey, and unmistakably of pubic origin.

The hair on his head is chestnut brown. The gunk under his nails is black.

My mind races through possibilities. Sometimes, it is the worse thing in the world to have a vivid imagination.

Has he been pleasuring an octogenarian rubber-freak out the back?

Economising on dental floss?

Performing a tool inventory?

I have to leave. I am repulsed (and it takes a lot to do that, dear readers.)

And there were no dogs. I checked.


On another matter entirely...I would like to congratulate blog-mate and rising star, Jaywalker, over at Belgian Waffle, for making it into the Times Top 100 Blog list. If you haven't already, do drop by Belgian Waffle and stuff your face...you won't regret it. Well done Emma!

Well sprung

Spring is in the air. Officially, it’s still three weeks away, but try telling that to the daffodils, birds and randy boars. It’s mild. It’s sunny. It’s bloody good news for our scarily depleted woodstore.

The school holidays have been safely negotiated. It was a whirl of sledging, dinosaurs, chocolate and rockets.

My funny bone has fractured. Can’t seem to think of much to write at the moment. Things here are quiet and,frankly, a bit dull. I keep fantasising about really exciting events….like…going to Ikea. Yeah, I know…It’s that dull.

I have pain. Of the physical sort. It is keeping me off the computer, hence the lack of radio contact.

I have a new obsession, too. Sportacus. Anyone else suffer from this one? Or perhaps it’s just me that wonders how tightly he’s strapped beneath that tracksuit?