The worst weekend EVER (apart from the wedding)

9 Sep

It was Monday morning and so far, no one at work had asked me if I had a good weekend.  This was a Good Thing, because actually I had an AWFUL weekend.  It was the fifth (and last) wedding of the year, and although I’ve thoroughly enjoyed every wedding I am definitely feeling weddinged out.  However, the wedding was nothing to do with me having an awful weekend.  In fact I would have loved to have even been there, but for various reasons, I missed the ceremony itself (sorry Nick and Lucie…)

The weekend of the century started early, on Friday night, when G told me he had left his shoes at his parents house.  Fair enough, I thought, that’s bad luck but we’ll just have to go to buy some new ones.  On Saturday morning new shoes were duly bought, after some debate about how the style of shoes has changed such that it is now widely accepted to have two inches of empty shoe at the toe end…at this point I remember gritting my teeth and hissing “just buy the shoes!”.  We bought them, we packed the car and set off.  TRaffic through central London was truly terrible, and my 33 year old car can’t deal with idling in traffic for so long.  I should never trust the satnav and I promised myself I would also go via the A205 in future.

Just 45 minutes away from our destination and I felt the car pulling hard over to the left, and then the tell tale”flap flap flap” sound of a puncture.  We pulled over and inspected the tyre.  Luckily it was only flat at the bottom arf arf.  Actually we were pretty lucky.  We’d been bowling along (luckily in the slow lane for the first time since we got onto the M40) and we could clearly see that a big chunk of the rubber had delaminated from the tyre, exposing the metal mesh inside.  Fortunately I had a spare tyre.  Unfortunately I had failed to keep it properly inflated and it was pretty flat.  We consulted the trusty iTelephone and discovered a petrol station was only 3 miles away.  I would drive at a stately pace of approx 30 miles an hour and once at the petrol station we would re-inflate the tyre.

Alas it was not to be.  A mere half a mile later the car started with the kangaroo petrol and lost almost all power without actually stopping.  We pulled over onto the hard shoulder again and did some ferreting under the bonnet but couldn’t see anything too wrong.  We called the trusty breakdown people and I begged them to send someone as quickly as possible as we would miss my cousin’s wedding if we had to wait an hour!  I was amazed and hugely appreciative when, 20 minutes later, a recovery truck turned up.  He too, couldn’t decipher what was wrong but hoisted the car onto the back of his truck and took us to the wedding venue – I know how to arrive in style that’s for sure!

Now all we needed to do was get changed.  But wait!  Because we were late arriving, the owner of the B&B we were booked into had gone out!  We were forced to do a very quick change in the relative shelter of her back garden and hope that no one came in to discover two semi naked people getting changed into wedding gear.  By the time we had been through all of this, we had well and truly missed the wedding.  We had also missed the walk over the hill to the reception venue, which I was looking forward to, but we managed to cram three people into the front of my dad’s car and he drove us there, whereupon I drowned my sorrows in many glasses of Pimms and proceeded to have a great time for the rest of the day and evening.  Nick and Lucie looked handsome and beautiful (in that order), the pageboys and bridesmaids did everyone proud, and they had an awesome jazz band in a marquee with a sparkly ceiling, in the grounds of a beautiful house.  It was lovely to have our extended family all together – it doesn’t happen often enough, with us being flung to the far corners of the south of the UK.

The nest day, we called out the brilliant RAC who almost instantly diagnosed a points problem, i.e. the points had somehow got very twisted and had also closed up.  He fixed it and, I’m annoyed to say, the car is driving better than ever.  We got back to London with no more problems and spent 2.5hrs bouldering out our aggression (usually I’m exhausted after 45mins!)

I’m still selling the damn car though.  Do you know anyone who wants to buy an MGB GT?

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