Sunday, 5 April 2015

View from the Window

This morning the view was of some big trees and half finished landscaping with damp fog behind from the breakfast room of Northcote Manor where I had stayed the night, you cannot beat a full English breakfast, who ever woke up to the smell of cornflakes? I console myself that it is healthier than the full Scottish, during which you can actually feel your arteries clogging up. I am home now and what do I see from my window, the tops of smaller trees with damp fog behind.

When I drive somewhere I go from A to B, my wife always wants to go A,C,D,E,F then B, at times I have to humour her despite knowing it will lead to a fall out nine times out of ten. Sure enough we took the second of the two choices back from the hotel this morning, to be fair my wife knew which way she wanted to come back, but we put our trust in the SatNav to know that. I did not want to go through the lovely Trough of Bowland as the roads are narrow and can barely fit two cars (I was driving mine, not hers), handy passing places have been placed for the convenience of tourists, one at the beginning and one at the end. We ended up on a worse road, in the middle of nowhere and stuck behind some kind of cycle race, the riders of which obviously hated cars and missed that bit in the Highway Code where they are told to go along in single file.

Which neatly brings me on to my apology for not once mentioning Jeremy Clarkson last week. If the Prime Minister of Britain, not a lowly spokesperson mind, it was too important for that, himself took time out of his busy schedule to wade in to the contretemps then I should have followed suit and at least let you know which side of the fence I stood on. And I will, as soon as I can muster up the interest.

I got a knock on the door last Sunday, which is unusual for us, so while the missus hid under the bed, I plucked up the courage and answered. It was a young gentleman enquiring whether my CCTV camera was working and if so could I look for a blue car with two grey mirrors passing through the village. The camera, being for the protection of the shop is not aimed at the road, so I could not help him. Someone had hit his car and sped away, he knew who it was, he knew where they lived, he knew the car, he had one of the grey mirrors left at the scene, the said car now has one grey mirror and one blue one. The police have CCTV footage of the car driving away from the area but no footage of it turning up in the area, therefore they refused to do anything about it: not enough evidence you see, it's complicated, you wouldn't understand, pass the donuts.

At present I am working my way through this lot, mmmmmmmm

No comments:

Post a Comment