Five three one

Can I go on?

Of course I can, I always seem to. More's the pity.

You can stick your poncy Duke of Edinburgh award, FT! This is a tale of real adventure, real danger of life-threatening moments where split-second decisions were vital.

Yes, I had to WALK home from Swinton, a mile and half away, this evening. Walk. "It's that thing you do when you go to the bar", somebody once told me when I questioned the suggestion that we "WALK???" home from Coventry city centre after a night out. Walking a mile and a half in school shoes (those ones with really hard, but thin soles) is a killer, especially on uneven paving slabs.

When you're walking along and you come to a junction and you stop because you've seen that a car is turning into that junction and you don't want to cause the motorist any delay, why is it that the motorist invariably waves you on? You've stopped for fuck's sake, it's no odds to you, but they might miss a gap in the traffic if they don't make the turn there and then and then they'll hate you forever. So you have to set off in a half-hearted run to show your appreciation for their courtesy, mumbling to yourself all the to the other pavement "Stupid fuckers, fancy making me run. Twats."

But what tragedy befell me to plunge me into such a test of my endurance? My car is getting MOTd tomorrow and I had to drop it into the garage this evening because I won't have chance to take it there before work in the morning. The garage is OK. I just hope that the chap who I handed my keys to - who isn't the sharpest of the bunch of the blokes there - remembers to lock my car away inside the workshop before they go home tonight. Should I go and check?

I'm sure the MOT is a complete rip off. For those not in the know, MOT stands for "Ministry of Transport" (I think) and is the name given to the annual test of roadworthiness of all vehicles of 3 years of age and over. The test costs about £40 at the moment, but they always manage to find minor repairs that bring the total bill to over £100.

Of course in the olden days of my first car, the MOT was an annual event that filled me dread. Already wallowing in the mire of postgraduate debt, my car was a continual drain on my resources. It was a 12 year old, 1980 Ford Fiesta 1.1 GL (that meant that it had a rear windscreen wiper!). It overheated all the time and I had to drive with the radiator on hot through all weather conditions. I later discovered that it needed a new radiator, after 3 thermostats and lots of very uncomfortable journeys - not only because of the heat, but also the smell of curry that wafted through the car when the heater blower was turned on. I think I replaced just about everything on that car at least once by the time I got rid of it. I did many of the repairs myself and when it became necessary to replace the starter motor a second time, I just couldn't face battling with the thing while lying on the frosty February ground. I got myself a loan and bought a new(er) car. That little car was famous around here; I painted eyelashes on the bonnet above the headlamps you see. The things you do when you're bored and you have a Hammerite-loaded paintbrush in your hand.


Heated debate
There was a burning issue that I was determined to open a debate on, but I can't remember what it was.

OK then, instead of that, let me ask the incredibly important question: what is your favourite type of bean?