Saturday 28 April 2007

The saga of my little green Corsa has rumbled on all week. The man from Liphook came and dared to tell my partner, in front of me, that the damage to the car door could mean the vehicle is an insurance write-off Bah! That evening (Wednesday), going through some paperwork, my partner discovered that our MOT certificate had expired on 10 April. She had neglected to remember, owing to concerns over her illness. Double bah! She rang our friendly local garage (at the end of our road) the following day and they very kindly said they'd do the MOT the following day, as the car tax needs renewing by the end of the month. Can you guess what happened next?

Yes. The car failed the MOT. For NO reason other than the damage to the door. My partner was, as you can imagine, fairly desperate. The good men of the garage did a skilful patch up job to temporarily repair the damaged lock (for which they only charged us £8.75) so my car got its MOT. Hurrah! Then, they gave my partner some helpful and reassuring advice about the proper repairs which was much more reasonable. They can repair the vandals' efforts for £647, which the insurance can cover (apart from the £100 excess - that shows my value - MY insurance excess is £80!!). So my partner had great pleasure in telephoning her insurance company and setting out these facts. But it does make me wonder why one must pay one's premiums if, in the event of misfortune, one must do all this groundwork oneself. Grrrowl. My hackles still bristle at the thought of those scrotes who caused all this trouble...

But we refuse to be defeated, however, and have already returned several times to Abbotstone. My partner will not let thuggery spoil our fun, just as she refuses to allow terrorists to frighten her into not using the London Underground.

So we had a lovely walk on Abbotstone this evening. It was a perfect evening, exactly right warmth, birdsong and outdoor aroma. There was a good atmosphere in our little town today - there was a French market in Broad Street with Frenchies from our 'twinned' town and they all stayed after they'd cleared the stalls for beer in the Horse and Groom. Very jovial and pleasant. But my partner feels nothing but despair. How she longs to have been sharing an evening's drink or two in the happy atmosphere with BC... she feels sick to her stomach about her lonliness, which I can only soothe in part.

I did my best to cheer her, but became distracted by my Buzzard friend in the big field at Abbotstone. We had gone in there because there were LOADS of rabbits out for the evening - honestly, it was like a bl**dy cast reunion from Watership Down, there were that many bunnies. I spied my friend hovering quietly over a group of young rabbits and decided to assist him. I barrelled in, scattering the buns and sending them all back to their burrows. I thought the Buzzard would be as pleased to see me as I was to see him but he just glared at me. In fact, if I didn't know any better, I'd say he even looked angry.
"I feel it is nearly time for your flying lesson, young man." he said, settling himself on a nearby branch. I said that I was still 20kg and he just grunted. Seeking to encourage him, I said "But I have just had another bath, so my coat is nice and clean." Maisie bathed me on Thursday. Lovely. The Buzzard looked up at this. Success!

"Do you like baths?" asked my big feathery chum. I replied that I did, and that my partner liked having baths with bubbles in. "Perhaps that might improve you." said the Buzzard. I nodded, seeing what he was thinking. If I enjoyed a perfumed bath, and scented my fur with the aroma of Sprout and Geranium or Ylang-Ylang and Cauliflower, or whatever it is that my partner uses, I might be even more successful with the ladies than I already am. The Buzzard interrupted my thoughts. "Yes, try marinading yourself." Well, I suppose marinading herself is technically what my partner is doing when she has a bubble bath. I asked my Buzzard friend if he had any recommendations as to what perfume might suit me best. He seemed most knowledgeable on the topic.
"Sainsbury's have a nice honey and mustard marinade in their Taste the Difference range." I asked him if he was sure I could use that in a bath? "Hmm. 20kg. I'd get two bottles. Put the stuff in the bath. You lie in it all night, and then pop yourself back up here. I'll be waiting." How generous of him.

"Hang on though," I barked up to him, "Won't that honey stuff make my fur go all crispy and sticky?" A twinkle appeared in his beady eye and a long strand of saliva dribbled down from his beak. "Just you lie in it a good long time. And be sure to cover yourself in the marinade. That way, you'll be more succulent and flavoursome." And with that, he launched himself into the air. What a nice chap. "Then can I have my flying lesson?" I called. But he had gone. When I returned to my partner, I asked what he might have meant by 'succulent and flavoursome'. I'm sure he meant to say 'moisturised and sweet-smelling'. I will ask my partner to put this marinade-stuff on her shopping list.

There was an earthquake in Kent this morning. Bizarre. Those tectonic plates had better not try anything like that in MY part of the country, or we shall have to have words.

Good night.