My sole transport transports my soul - Alan Kelly
With hindsight, (do hinds have good sight? I've no eye deer...) I would never again try to plan a trip of this scale and still be working a 50hr week. I've only two weekends left to get ready, with far more than 4 days worth of things to do, so it's Bob Hope and no hope for me then. Geoff's already packed having decided which clothes to take. (Picture 'Man At C&A' strutting to the Bee Gees, and a supercilious expression) It's a catch 22 but I need the money. Especially after discovering someone had taken £250 from my account with a cloned card. I suspect due to a phoney phone call. A sure way to make a tall man short and withdrawn. The Gorm on the "help" line asked to check my identity. After quick glance in the mirror, replied "Yes, it's me." He was as vacant as a condemned outhouse. But it's no use blaming the cistern. Some form of form had to be filled, to formally inform necessary information, as per norm. An account of my recount of my account. Being on form I suggested a reform to save this performance. The gorm was true to form. With no access to my money for 5 days and a 15 day wait for a refund. Joy.
Perhaps moving all the bottles in my drinks cabinet to the top shelf would be a sure way to raise my spirits, if only I had one. So I turned to my bike, my oasis. Even that proved to be a mirage.
The only thing feeling more drained than me is my bike battery, after discovering the alarm faintly chirping like a distressed sparrow. Geoff's bike is also alarmed, but that's due to his style of riding. After a close examination of my bike, there was no obvious reason for the alarm to sound, so I tried to reset it. Nothing happened so I turned on the ignition to deliberately set off the alarm. Nothing. I hit the panic button. That didn't work either, so I did what any normal person would do in a similar situation and hastily introduced a size 13 steel-capped toe to the rear tyre.
"If I had any idea what I was doing you wouldn't be so chirpy then, would you? No!" As if threatening an inanimate object would help, but there's always a first time. After admitting defeat, and turning the key from 'bereft' to 'doornail'...it stopped. It's not pining, it's dead.
My electrical tester's instructions appeared to be in Polish, so assuming it's only good for Pole volts, connected a charger, hoping for the best. More joy.
While the battery is currently re-volting, I'm left to stare at an empty space where my car has been parked for 6yrs, after selling my BMW 3 series coupe. One of a precious few cars I can fit in comfortably, and I loved the 6 cylinder engine but alas, surplus to requirements and I need all the money I can get for this trip. It was rarely driven, but kept for the sake of owning a car, and for transportation of friends and family who are unable to comprehend the joys of motorcycling. You can lead a horse to water...
With hindsight, (do hinds have good sight? I've no eye deer...) I would never again try to plan a trip of this scale and still be working a 50hr week. I've only two weekends left to get ready, with far more than 4 days worth of things to do, so it's Bob Hope and no hope for me then. Geoff's already packed having decided which clothes to take. (Picture 'Man At C&A' strutting to the Bee Gees, and a supercilious expression) It's a catch 22 but I need the money. Especially after discovering someone had taken £250 from my account with a cloned card. I suspect due to a phoney phone call. A sure way to make a tall man short and withdrawn. The Gorm on the "help" line asked to check my identity. After quick glance in the mirror, replied "Yes, it's me." He was as vacant as a condemned outhouse. But it's no use blaming the cistern. Some form of form had to be filled, to formally inform necessary information, as per norm. An account of my recount of my account. Being on form I suggested a reform to save this performance. The gorm was true to form. With no access to my money for 5 days and a 15 day wait for a refund. Joy.
Perhaps moving all the bottles in my drinks cabinet to the top shelf would be a sure way to raise my spirits, if only I had one. So I turned to my bike, my oasis. Even that proved to be a mirage.
The only thing feeling more drained than me is my bike battery, after discovering the alarm faintly chirping like a distressed sparrow. Geoff's bike is also alarmed, but that's due to his style of riding. After a close examination of my bike, there was no obvious reason for the alarm to sound, so I tried to reset it. Nothing happened so I turned on the ignition to deliberately set off the alarm. Nothing. I hit the panic button. That didn't work either, so I did what any normal person would do in a similar situation and hastily introduced a size 13 steel-capped toe to the rear tyre.
"If I had any idea what I was doing you wouldn't be so chirpy then, would you? No!" As if threatening an inanimate object would help, but there's always a first time. After admitting defeat, and turning the key from 'bereft' to 'doornail'...it stopped. It's not pining, it's dead.
My electrical tester's instructions appeared to be in Polish, so assuming it's only good for Pole volts, connected a charger, hoping for the best. More joy.
While the battery is currently re-volting, I'm left to stare at an empty space where my car has been parked for 6yrs, after selling my BMW 3 series coupe. One of a precious few cars I can fit in comfortably, and I loved the 6 cylinder engine but alas, surplus to requirements and I need all the money I can get for this trip. It was rarely driven, but kept for the sake of owning a car, and for transportation of friends and family who are unable to comprehend the joys of motorcycling. You can lead a horse to water...
The £600 I got for my car has paid for my sat-nav, the spare clutch and brake levers and cables for both bikes, (£180!) a tankful of petrol and two pies, leaving me with £20.
I walked to the petrol garage the next day for a pint of milk and some crisps.
"Any fuel?" asked the garage owner.
"No thanks" I replied, "I've just sold my car for £600 and I'm left with this £20 note."
"That's ok" he replied, "You can put the crisps back."
It's all gravy...
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