MEMORY #198348742
MEMORY #198348742
She didn't much time. If anything got in the way this morning, she would be late for her day of training in Warrington and she hated being late. All going well, she would be able to brew up, eat breakfast, get petrol, then drive the 30 minutes to her final destination. All going well.
Ten minutes later, so far so good. Breakfast and tea were consumed at top speed and she had pulled in safely to Tesco Petrol Station and had positioned the nozzle in the fuel tank ready for the rush of petroleum. But then the next couple of seconds were surreal. For some inexplicable reason, the petrol surge came, squirted and then somehow backfired everywhere, spraying her from head to toe with gaseous fumes. She dropped everything and blinked. What just happened? Slightly bewildered, she continued to fill her tank and walked into the kiosk to pay. The cashiers both looked at her.
“How did you manage that?” said one, blinking at her. Unable to think of what to say, she shrugged.
“You'd better not stand too close to any smokers today” said the other, taking my credit card and directing the chip and pin towards me.
She walked back towards the car, aware that she absolutely wreaked of petrol fumes. Driving along, she realised she was probably suffocating herself so she opened the window. By the time she got to Warrington, she was coughing and spluttering and needed a whole change of clothes.
“I'm afraid I had a mini accident at the petrol station before, and unless you want me to smell like petrol all day today, could you please direct me to get a change of clothes from somewhere?” she asked, rhetorically more than anything, the security guys sat behind the lodge area.
“What's happened to you Zan?” quizzed Steph as she arrived for her morning coffee. “You smell funny.”
“Long story. Involves a petrol station” she sighed, jabbing vaguely at her teabag, as she recounted her very strange morning.
She didn't much time. If anything got in the way this morning, she would be late for her day of training in Warrington and she hated being late. All going well, she would be able to brew up, eat breakfast, get petrol, then drive the 30 minutes to her final destination. All going well.
Ten minutes later, so far so good. Breakfast and tea were consumed at top speed and she had pulled in safely to Tesco Petrol Station and had positioned the nozzle in the fuel tank ready for the rush of petroleum. But then the next couple of seconds were surreal. For some inexplicable reason, the petrol surge came, squirted and then somehow backfired everywhere, spraying her from head to toe with gaseous fumes. She dropped everything and blinked. What just happened? Slightly bewildered, she continued to fill her tank and walked into the kiosk to pay. The cashiers both looked at her.
“How did you manage that?” said one, blinking at her. Unable to think of what to say, she shrugged.
“You'd better not stand too close to any smokers today” said the other, taking my credit card and directing the chip and pin towards me.
She walked back towards the car, aware that she absolutely wreaked of petrol fumes. Driving along, she realised she was probably suffocating herself so she opened the window. By the time she got to Warrington, she was coughing and spluttering and needed a whole change of clothes.
“I'm afraid I had a mini accident at the petrol station before, and unless you want me to smell like petrol all day today, could you please direct me to get a change of clothes from somewhere?” she asked, rhetorically more than anything, the security guys sat behind the lodge area.
“What's happened to you Zan?” quizzed Steph as she arrived for her morning coffee. “You smell funny.”
“Long story. Involves a petrol station” she sighed, jabbing vaguely at her teabag, as she recounted her very strange morning.