2000 light ales from home
Or in this case, several hundred miles from the Elsinore, which is somewhat unfortunate given we were supposed to be in that there Whitby today. However, some dozy arse in a turd-coloured Disco thought he'd have a bash at remodelling the Saab's tailgate on the A46. This also somehow buggered the driver's window electrics, so it's stuck at half-mast. Not really a state of affairs I was comfortable ignoring for a week, so it's off to the bodyshop tomorrow.
If they think it's worth fixing, I ought to be handed a spare car. This will no doubt be a shopping trolley, which we can fill with too many bags and attempt to putter north in. Again.
The other options are going to be expensive, so I'm trying not to think about them.
This comes on top of some house-stuff wanting money thrown at it and some seriously shit news I've not got around to processing just yet.
The temptation to crawl into a succession of vodka bottles and not come out 'til the music stops is really rather high.
If they think it's worth fixing, I ought to be handed a spare car. This will no doubt be a shopping trolley, which we can fill with too many bags and attempt to putter north in. Again.
The other options are going to be expensive, so I'm trying not to think about them.
This comes on top of some house-stuff wanting money thrown at it and some seriously shit news I've not got around to processing just yet.
The temptation to crawl into a succession of vodka bottles and not come out 'til the music stops is really rather high.