Thursday, June 25, 2015
An angelic air of loveliness.
A beautiful morning. Even Castle Gloom, the frigid home of the local Comte and Comtesse , looks inviting. Sophie heads off with me to get some coffee from the supermarket while Bob goes off for a power walk round the lake. In the car park on our way back we discover we have a puncture.
A quick trip to the local tyre man. Somehow, somewhere , a three inch nail has driven into the sidewall. We're running on the rim. The spare, one of those 'emergency' not to exceed 50mph things that hangs under the car, is caked in mud. Worse follows. It's lost it's valve and can't be inflated. Lesson - check your spare once every year.
Two and a half hours later, the emergency tyre repaired, we leave. The thought of spending a morning with Sophie on a garage forecourt is enough to take years off any ones life. However, today she has opted to don her mantle of feminine charm. This may be because the tyre fitters have diligently fed her tit bits from their biscuit tin. In return she exudes an angelic air of loveliness. How looks deceive.
After all that time and effort the fitters refuse to accept payment. I insist. They still refuse. '' You were in trouble and we helped ". Kindness a virtue difficult to find when you go looking for it but all around when you don't.
Sophie makes it quite clear to 'The Font' that she's had a dreadful morning and she's now ready for lunch. One of those ' You can't believe what's happened to me ! ' days.