Didn’t sleep well

Where do you get a 4.5 tonne, 7.5 metre motorhome MoTd? At the council’s place in Yate, that’s where. They MoT articulated lorries so Doris is easy. Anyhow, she was booked in for 7.30 this morning – the coldest night of the year. I didn’t sleep well – Cassie sleeps on our bed when she’s with us, and last night it was my turn to be slept upon – and I woke, as I always do, many times before the alarm went off.

After I cleared her windscreen (which is the biggest in Christendom) and checked that the roads weren’t so icy she’d slip all the way to Yate, we set off with some stuff I’d bought for Jen/Cubblys in Doris’s garage – I’d drive to Jen’s once the MoT was done. Now I don’t know about you, but I’m not keen on MoTs. It’s the thought that if you fail, you have no choice but to get the car/van fixed straight away and then bring it back for re-inspection – in short, leaving you without transport and an admin nightmare to sort, especially with a big vehicle like Doris. So, when halfway to Yate there’s a loud knocking noise from the roof, I’m thinking that this is going to be an MoT failure. I had checked all of the usual MoT failures, and had done my best to de-ice the windscreen washers … a schoolboy’s error on a cold morning.

I pulled over (it was still dark and blooming freezing). I opened the main top light and had a peak out. Nope. Everything was still attached on the roof. Mmmm. So I set off again. and still there was this unnatural knocking sound from the roof. I thought maybe I’d left a tool on the roof and it was rolling about? Maybe?

I got to Yate and was met by the nice mechanic who asked me if I could help him … he was the only one in at 7.15 am. They have two bays, both of which are white and yellow … and immaculate. He drives it over the pit, and I then get in the cab to turn on lights etc. I’d mentioned the knocking problem to the mechanic knowing that some major part of Doris may have broken and it would cost a million pounds, take days to sort and remove a few more years off my shortening life.

He found the problem. ‘Come into the pit.’ Sod this H&S nonsense … off I went. And there it was. The outer skin of the silencer was hanging off. ‘Unless you can tie it up I may have to fail you on that. Don’t worry about it, I’d cut it off if it were me.’ A minute later and with a piece of wire wrapped round the silencer holding the ‘tray’ in place, we were done. (I’ve also got to replace the windscreen wipers.) Done. Tick.

I then took Doris to Jen’s to unload the stuff I’d bought for the business, including a decent waist-high material table. The place is beginning to look like we mean business. Which we do. We both assumed that January was going to be a slow month, but in the end we weren’t far off December’s total, which means we were able to pay ourselves a few bob. All good!

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Finally, I don’t want to discuss Brexit. People across the world are laughing at us. Once we were thought to be a bastion of sensibleness. Where democracy works. Where the right thing is done. Not now. Now they all think we’re a bunch of party-centric, self-centred loons. Businesses will be deserting us soon … not just because we’re leaving the EU and its open market, but because we can’t organise a packed lunch.

So I’m not going to talk about Brexit.

Speak later!

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