Cars and random upsets

Tuesday was a bad day - for all sorts of reasons. It didn't help that I'd spent 3hours solid trying to put a powerpoint slide show presentation together for Monday's MA project proposals and then couldn't copy any of it onto either a cd, or a data stick. So a complete waste of bloody time basically, and I had to re-do it all in college the next day.



Nor did it help that Eddie staggered home from college complaining of badly bruised ribs - ribs that he'd mashed whilst bodyboarding the night before, but which were now hurting so much that he was unable to do his A-level practical PE exam. Which meant he then ended up missing out on another day of college, and a vital geography revision session in order to procure a doctors note.



And to top it all off, the long and convoluted arrangements I'd made to organise a book-club jolly up to the Daphne du Maurier festival to se a performance of Rebecca for the centenary anniversary of her birth, being performed at Menabilly Barton - the setting for the novel - all went pear shaped at the last minute.



I had one cancellation the night before, so tried my best to flog that ticket off to someone else who seemed all enthusiastic and up for it, but then pulled out at the last minute. I'd also fished to find someone other that myself to be the driver, as my car'd been playing up for ages (overheating and such-like) but the best I'd come up with was for me to drive another woman's car as she didn't want to drive all that way, but was happy for me to borrow hers. So then she rings me a couple of hous before we're due to set off to tell me that now she's not coming either, leaving me with another spare ticket and no reliable transport.



I should've just insisted that someone else drive, or at least let me take their car - but I didn't. Grabebd Rosie and my mate Heidi at the last minute to fill the seats and all appeared to be going smoothly, right up until the point a wierd clacking sound could be heard. Reluctantly pulled into a lay-by only to discover the car was masively overheating, with smoke pouring out everywhere. Rang the RAC. They gave an estimated call-out time of 'within the hour'. Nearly an hour later and no sign of any rescue.



At this point a kindly samaritan pulled over to offer his asistance. He was a mechanic so that's always useful. A relief to be doing something/have something happen after all that waiting as I was feeling particularly guilty about scuppering everyone's evening. We were still a good 30 minutews drive away and the play had already started, but your man thought we'd probably be able to limp back to Penzance if we took it slowly and stopped to top up with water every few miles. He then offered to take the others on up to Fowey to catch the last half of the play. I knew they'd all be able to get a lift home again in another book-clubbers car who'd gone there straight from work in Truro, so that seemed like the best option.



Heidi insisted on staying to keep me company/see me home, so we waved the others off, cancelled the RAC and turned the car around to hobble home. Made it a s far as the next garage but it was already seriously boiling over by then. Bought some Rad-seal in the vain hope that it might fix the leak, but no sooner had we driven across the forecourt then the whole radiator gushed its contents everywhere. So we weren't going nowhere.



Called the RAC again to re-request assistance, but by now we'd lost our place in the queue, and I was told it'd be about an hour and a half. I had mentioned over the phone that the car was stuffed and we needed a tow, but 2hrs later when the chappy finally arrived, of course he didn't have any towing facilities on-board, and so needed to ring through for a recovery vehicle. Marvellous. The garage was closed, it was dark and dull, we'd played eye-spy, held snail races, step-up competitions, etc... but it was a tedious way to pass the time/spend an evening together. Now, had we been able to nip into the pub down the road it would've been different, but I couldn't risk missing the breakdown service when it finally arrived.



This fella was nice enough but a bit of a strange one. Loves his job and works 7 days a week 12-20 hours a day! Now how nuts is that? Doesn't get on with the missus so I guess it's just avoidance tactics - although it's not surprising that they don't get on as they must hardly ever see each other. No social life though - just work, work, work. I couldn't bear it.



So I relectantly rang Graham again to ask if it would be ok to dump yet another dead car at his place, as I really didn't want it left outside my house on the street (very awkward seeing as I'm not officially talking to him at the moment). He said yes, and did ofer to loan me his van over the weekend until Tuesday as he's off to Scotland with Tim for a wee folk festival, but I really didn't want to be beholden to him for anything else, and wouldn't trust his van not to pack up while I was driving it given my rotten luck lately (2007 - not a good year so far).



The recovery bloke very kindly dropped Heidi off at her door; I declined Graham's offer of him running me back into town after the drop-off (he said he was hoping we could talk through some stuff together ????!) but also had a door to door delivery service from matey boy (who was looking expectantly at me like I was supposed to be inviting him in for a cup of tea or something - at 1.15am on a Weds morning?). But why the hell graham thought it was an appropriate time to be discussing our ex-relationship... I don't know. I was stressed, grumpy, knackered and not at all in the mood for a torrid conversation about painfull stuff (insensitive git). Men.



So back to square one in the car department. That's three in 5months that have gone tits up and a least a grand thrown away on dodgey shite vehicles. Story of my life.



At least I can still blag lifts to college I suppose, but being there Weds was very uninspiring. Did manage to get the powerpoint sorted though which was useful. Had to blag a lift to band practise as well, and asked Paul to put me in touch with his mad mate who does cars. Spoke to him on the phone and he thought he might have a couple that were suitable, so I arranged to go up and have a look the next day - subject to finding a nice friend to take me.



Gitty Graham insisted that we go through the newish song that he's penned - the first verse of which he wrote ages back when we were still together, the second only recently. The lyics are shite regardless, but thye were so excruciating and upsetting to sing - dashed out crying at one point I was so wobbly about it all. Typical of his total lack of any empathy or feelings. Honestly, what is wrong with the man? Sent him a text the next day saying that I wasn't going to sing it which led onto an exchange of text messages that I wished I'd never gone down.