melt-down!
Driving up to the village garage for
my annual MOT and service,
my annual MOT and service,
I got to thinking...
seriously thinking...
Should I get rid of my fluffy dice and red noses?
Parking my scratch black Smart beside the
open-top British Racing Green Bentley
which would look more at home
circumnavigating Brooklands.
circumnavigating Brooklands.
Well, it is that sort of village!
Made me ponder even further.
In the past I've always been happy to
thumb my nose at the local snobberoonies.
Floating through the village in a haze of patchouli and clothes
made from bobbly hand spun yarn (gathered from the razor wire
guarding the pads of the seriously stinking).
My jolly Leftie views, they divined
with a mere glance.
My casting knitted tofu, by way of pearls before swine,
probably didn't help.
Could that be why my help was never requested by the village fete
committee... cakes made from carob... no thanks!
Ted's qualities were quickly spotted,
his time on point duty at the Vauxhall Cross
stood him in good stead.
Fluorescent jacketed he is a ' Fete Parking in a Field' master
par excellence.
The trouble now is, have the ten years living cheek
by jowl in this Tory-boy heartland, suddenly
changed me? I don't think so, well I know so...
however the mere thought of giving up my
fluffy dice is seriously worrying me.
Is this the end of my days of revolt?
Am I suddenly getting old?
What to replace them with?
'Nubile young wench on board...
give a wide berth'
'A dog is not for Christmas etc'
'Jesus loves you'
'Spoilt brat on board'
'My other car's a Micra'
Woo hoo it's scary man...
is this the slippery road to sensibledom?
I bloody hope not!
with a mere glance.
My casting knitted tofu, by way of pearls before swine,
probably didn't help.
Could that be why my help was never requested by the village fete
committee... cakes made from carob... no thanks!
Ted's qualities were quickly spotted,
his time on point duty at the Vauxhall Cross
stood him in good stead.
Fluorescent jacketed he is a ' Fete Parking in a Field' master
par excellence.
The trouble now is, have the ten years living cheek
by jowl in this Tory-boy heartland, suddenly
changed me? I don't think so, well I know so...
however the mere thought of giving up my
fluffy dice is seriously worrying me.
Is this the end of my days of revolt?
Am I suddenly getting old?
What to replace them with?
'Nubile young wench on board...
give a wide berth'
'A dog is not for Christmas etc'
'Jesus loves you'
'Spoilt brat on board'
'My other car's a Micra'
Woo hoo it's scary man...
is this the slippery road to sensibledom?
I bloody hope not!
My car IS a micra............ languishing, proper poorly in a garage somewhere......... sob......
ReplyDeleteBrilliant post. Just brilliant.
mm... I don't know whether to be more sorry that your car is poorly or that it's a micra?
DeleteAlthough I always say, as long as it's got a wheel in each corner (or two wheels at the back and one at the front, in the case of D. Trotter Esq.) and it fires up when you turn the key, that is all you need.
LLX
You have an annual MoT and a service? I only put my car through that nonsense!
ReplyDeleteOnce the dice go tis but a short hop, skip and jump-ette to standing quietly in the village Post Office queue wearing a dark brown tweed twin-set and pearls, waiting to send food-aid packages to the blasted north. The Women's Institute will come for you in the night soon enough.
You know the cure, and it involves a bottle of champagne, the village churchyard, music and no clothing.
Ian... your reply is under Jayne!
DeleteLLX
I loved this post Linda, keep the dice is all I have got to say! You-sensible-never!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! jaynex
ReplyDeleteWhere to go next, that's the problem Jayne? Strop storks my every step... rebel with too many causes.
DeleteLLX
Purposefully I strode up the hill in the highest village in Kent. I was on a mission to see if the throw of the dice had favoured the brave. Through the churchyard, my thoughts were filled with dancing naked around the serpent entwined sarcophagus with my oesophagus bathed in vintage champagne. Through the playing field, past the school, breathily I arrived at the scene of the dice's demise. The Smart, I've never seen looking so..... well, since this time last year? In garage's that sport such clientele, the car was valetted to within an inch of its life. Oh woe is me the dice were nowhere to be found... but wait, hanging over the virgin ashtray, there they forlornly hung. Heads bowed with the knowledge their dicing days were done.
ReplyDeleteLLX
I dare you to have a "Lin and Ted" banner on the windscreen, like Daisy and Onslow in Keeping Up Appearances.
ReplyDeleteOooh I like that idea Nilly, just wish my name was Trace and Ted's was Dwayne.
DeleteLLX
I'm trying (from your description) to decipher exactly where you live. When at college in Surrey we rented a cottage in a village where the local garage sold RR and Bentley cars. We were the only non-billionaires within miles!
ReplyDeleteMorning Cro, it certainly sounds the same village. For years I took my car to the Smart Centre in Sevenoaks, blooming miles away. Last year I suddenly thought this is crazy, I'll ask if the local garage would lower their standards and consider my car (well, it is a Mercedes... of sorts!) The price was the same; the car came back polished to within an inch of its life, inside and out. The garage is cleaner than my cottage, the mechanics wear overalls pressed, with creases in the trousers. All in all, a happy experience, well for me at least. We now buy our fuel from them, although with every pit-stop I have to have my IFA in attendance. The extra in price is more than offset by the service of the staff who fill the car up for you! I am always cracking on about patronising our local shops, so it seems only right to include the garage.
DeleteWe're not rich, just happy to live in a super little cottage in a lovely part of the world.
LLX