I’m having a well earned day of rest after an extremely sociable week with Mama J’s friends all wanting a piece of me. I now know what it must feel like to be a member of our Royal Family. I bet The Queen just fancies staying home, putting her feet up and having a brew while watching Coronation Street or we’d better make that Eastenders seen as she’s a London girl at heart. There has been a whole lot of chatting from me in my own unique and uncompromising barking manner as I said, “Hello” to all of our lovely visitors. Firstly it was one of Mama J’s lovely work colleagues who kindly stated that I looked so much better than the last time she saw me. That isn’t difficult as unfortunately I had the last of my funny turns (not of the writing kind) in front of her before I went on my Epiphen. Her and Mama J hit the shops and particularly Marks and Spencer’s with outstanding gusto. Mama J spent £97.70 (that was with a 20% discount for having a loyalty card) on two shirts, two scarves, a pair of stripy trousers that Mama J believes inspired Gok Wan’s This Morning fashion segment (he was obviously there in spirit) the next day and three packs of underpants. Now about those pants. As Granny pointed so bluntly out, “You have a draw full of pants!” I’m going to really put my paw in it here by telling you all a little Mama J g-string sized secret. She had pants going back almost fifteen years old at one stage. These pants could have ended up in The Tate Modern okay change that name to The Tate Olden Museum as they were walking relics of 1990s fashion and seen as they were from the now ill-fated BHS, it makes them even more of a historical piece of fashion wear. Anyhow Mama J ditched those pants a few years back and now invests in all new knickers every year. Bravo pantyhose! As well as shopping there the pair enjoyed the best hot chocolate Mama J has ever tasted in Hotel Chocolat. I think she could’ve written a fine review of this product (and got paid with more hot chocolate in the process) as she’s been talking about its creamy texture and wonderful sweet but not too sickly taste since last Monday. The day after the shopping trip Marks and Spencer’s new Chief Executive Officer was on the TV talking about rejuvenating the clothing side of the brand (the food side is fine thanks to Granny buying chicken pie and frites in there on a weekly basis). He was asked who is Mrs M&S and his response has caused ructions in the Chelton household ever since. Apparently Mrs M&S is a lady in her 50s (Mama J’s shopping companion fits that styling bill as does Granny). There’s Mama J been more than happy with the addition of Alexa Chung’s input with the brand as it made her feel positively trendy shopping there. However oh dear this new retail mindset has compounded the notion that Mama J is in fact Grandma after all! Seen as she is a strong minded woman of the World (well, our village and possibly the nearest town) Mama J has decided to carry on shopping in M&S in the knowledge that one day she will be in the age bracket they are tailoring their clothes to. Mama J’s wanting to start winding the clock forward and well and truly cheering the ageing process on.

Our next visitor was on Monday evening when Mama J and Granny’s hairdressing and married duo came around for tea. Our friend is in the late stages of pregnancy at the moment and Mama J had already offered her services as a “Midwife” when Granny invited them over. Mama J did a mock up photo of a plastic bowl (usually used for the Yorkshire Pudding mix and the occasional splattering of sickness, not following the Yorkshire puddings may I add as Granny’s cooking is always impeccable) alongside a towel and a pair of wooden salad tongs (just in case forceps are required for delivery) and text the amusing image over to our friend who nearly went into labour at the sight of the message. Mama J’s credentials as a Midwife are that she was Majax (major incident) trained when she worked at the local hospital. Now you maybe thinking she is medically trained but oh no she worked in Medical Records and on few numbers of the hospitals busy reception desks including importantly the Antenatal desk. Casualty’s Connie Beauchamp this girl isn’t! She hasn’t watched Call The Midwife but has been enjoying Kay Mellor’s brilliantly written pregnancy/baby related drama In The Club. Anyway our friends enjoyed the dinners and left with baby still very much on board and inside Mum-to-be. Phew as think I would’ve had to take myself off for a long walk with Mama J in tow, as did I mention she’s ever so squeamish? Deliver a baby, yeah right!
Mama J’s last visiting friend was a former work colleague who is now a trained officer of the law (a Police Officer I was trying to make her sound more like RoboCop). She came over for a brew and a chat and to show Mama J her new Mazda MX5. It looked like a very classy and sporty motor indeed. She took Mama J for a Top Gear style spin sadly not on a race track like the Mini Cooper Chef Gordon Ramsay drove on last nights show, (Mama J is now poised ready to see what her Mini Primrose can really do) however a little sedate ride down the road and then around the block. It gave her a taste of its drive and handling and Mama J was most impressed that at 36 years old she could still get in and out of the sporty number with great ease. Those stretches she’s been doing every night have definitely paid off.

This brings me on nicely to Grandpa or should that be Mr Miyagi? He has been going to a Karate class with a friend and his friend’s teenage son on a Saturday morning and this weekend he took it a reverse roundhouse kick too far, for his back! Yes, he’s been in traction virtually ever since and is walking around like he’s done something extremely unsavoury in his pants. He should’ve remembered to wax on wax off before he started doing his kicking manoeuvre and most importantly he should’ve remembered that he’s now in his late 50s and not late teens anymore. Even Jean-Claude Van Damme would be hard pushed to pull off some of his Hard Target and AWOL moves these days. Ouch poor Grandpa!


Last time I pawed a post I was coughing like I had an evil bad smoking habit. In Britain soon no one will know what their packets look like due to them showing no colour other than green and no advertising and instead they will have “lovely” and “inspiring” pictures all over the packaging. These images will hopefully be more graphic to put people off smoking than a Quentin Tarantino film or Friday evenings Eastenders when Bobby Beale took his frustrations out on Step-Mother Jane’s head with a hockey stick! Mama J who regularly enjoys gore on Casualty was more than a little surprised by the twice blood splattered wedding cake and sounded like Mary Whitehouse when she demanded they should have given a warning of violence and shouldn’t be showing this level of brutality (to a wedding cake) pre the nine o’clock watershed. She’ll be taking to Twitter and venting her disgust if there’s anymore bloodshed tonight! Anyway I’m surprised this smoking nugget didn’t come from America but the idea just like Castlemaine XXXX came from Australia. Anyhow I was taken to the Vets to get my cough sorted out. Granny went in first to make sure the dog coast was clear for me to go in. It was so I was ushered in like Victoria Beckham at the private showing of Hermes new handbag range. It was a different Vet awaiting me when I got into the consulting room and this man was a Partner in the Practice. Mama J and Granny commented afterwards that Marble (when he was alive) and I have cost so much money I now must be classed as a special client to get one of the head honchos looking after to me. Ah our family is moving on up in the Veterinary world! Following a text book timed cough as we entered the room, Granny lifted me onto the table so the Vet could examine me and then I started craning my head and snapping teeth towards the Vets hand. He moved away and opened the draw and sized up a muzzle for me to wear. In my defence I spied varying sizes of muzzles in the draw, so I’m not the only dog that has taken a disliking to being prodded and poked when having a medical. When he put the muzzle on me Mama J joked that I looked like Hannibal Lecter. I was outraged, well in fact I was mortally offended as I’m such a cute and normally loving Yorkshire Terrier. The Vet quipped back, “I value my fingers!” Yes, well I don’t like fingers as I like liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti! Once he had squashed my wind pipe (I know we maybe got off on the wrong foot but there’s no need to go all Krays on me and try and throttle me I thought) making me cough again and listened to my chest which was clear, oh and put a thermometer up my bum (I would have happily sucked on it like you humans do to gain my temperature details), he confirmed what Mama J had thought, Kennel Cough. He then told us that I may cough for ten to fourteen days but the antibiotics he prescribed as a precaution would clear up any infection I may have. Once the muzzle was removed I flung my paws around Granny’s neck for a whole lot of affection. She promptly lifted me down from the table and we waited outside while Mama J paid the bill and got a scrumptious very large treat for me from the very generous Veterinary Nurse. I might make friends with these people after all! He did pay me and my family a lovely compliment though as he said I seemed like a very happy dog. I am of course as I have a brilliant loving family taking such wonderful care of me and my wellbeing.

Granny and Grandpa went away overnight leaving me firmly in charge of myself and Mama J. The first day went without a hitch walk wise as we went for a lovely drizzly stroll and didn’t run into another dog, horse or tractor. We were however on high alert and had binoculars at the ready as Mama J’s friend had seen Moira Dingle from Emmerdale in the village’s play park the evening before. Then Mama J and Grandpa had spotted her walking a very large dog passed our house the morning after.

I was on a warning from Mama J to be on my best behaviour should we meet her and more importantly her dog! Oh a celebrity other than me in the village (well I am notorious noise wise around these parts). Mama J feels our village may make a quiet and sleepy change for actress Natalie J. Robb from the goings on in Emmerdale, where they’ve had planes and helicopters crashing and the other year a serial killer on the loose. Anyway we didn’t see her doing any deals at the three farms we walked by in the area, so Mama J concluded she must be trying to keep Cain in line again back on their farmyard! 

Mama J wasn’t her bright and breezy usual self on Thursday morning as she was suffering from an attack of thyroid related palpitations. As she felt she was under pressure to walk me (I was just happy to spend quality Mama and daughter time together, morning walk or no morning walk) we embarked on an extremely slow plod down the road. We got to the bottom of the street then had to turn back and plod home again. Mama J kept stopping as her heart was racing as she was trying her best to walk. A ninety year old with a walking stick would’ve beaten us back up the road that morning. We got back and Mama J sat on the stairs while her heart rate slowed back to normal. It was my time to shine and play the role of doggie version of Florence Nightingale as I offered Mama J comforting paws and licks until she felt better, which happened as soon as her daily medication had kicked in fully. After Mama J had her lunch we went out again and we walked at an extremely enhanced pace in comparison with the morning walk. So fast that much to Mama J’s delight I did a pooh that had eluded me first thing that day. Mama J was fist pumping and swinging the bag full of my pooh. It doesn’t take much to make her smile! She commented what a little superstar I had been to Granny and Grandpa on their return, so I have been getting even more cuddles and praise than usual for my caring manner in looking after Mama J. 

I had my monthly bath (I still smell gorgeous) and hair trim on Saturday afternoon in Granny’s make shift grooming salon, otherwise known as the towel covered dining room table. Grandpa took some arty wet look pictures of me. Oh I felt like the dog equivalent of Kate Moss on a photoshoot!


Please excuse my lack of humour in this weeks blog post. I know it is meant to be my speciality but pulling it out the bag might be a Yorkshire Terrier paw step too far today. I have been awake since 3.45am (as has the whole household, so match sticks are required to keep our eyes firmly open at present) as I started with a hacking couch. I really should lay off my twenty a day Benson and Hedges habit and the Jack Daniels and Coke that dries me out. Just kidding I’m more of a puritan really rather than Rolling Stones style rock star, as I only drink water (tap though so thinking perhaps mineral is better quality, so may be a diva and insist Mama J buys me some Evian to sip on) and eat the finest meals Lily’s Kitchen has to offer. At first Granny thought I was going to be sick, well I did devour a little bit of steak last night which followed on from Rosemary focaccia bread courtesy of my always generous Grandpa. The mucky looks he gets from Mama J and Granny for giving me extras but I love it, so please Grandpa keep the tit bits coming my way. Mama J heard me hacking from in her room and came in like Florence Nightingale to make sure I was all right. Then it was Grandpa’s turn to give the dirty looks as Mama J was a little too enthusiastic with her sympathies for nearly 4.00am in the morning. She was cheering me on like a Cheerleader at the Super Bowl cooing gushingly, “Go on baby, cough it up! There’s Mama’s little superstar!” However as I was spitting dog phlegm (sorry if you are reading this while eating anything especially if it looks like custard) Mama J who is very good with positive words of encouragement is not so good with guts and gunk was moving away from me until Granny had safely seconded my spit onto the fleecy throw that I lay on, which is now drying on the line as I type. Grandpa took the Mickey out of Mama J then told her to go back to bed as she really wasn’t helping the situation. Oh ah missus! Granny rang the Vets first thing who think it could be Kennel Cough so we are off there later this afternoon. Although if there are any other dogs in the vicinity of the Vets I won’t be allowed to enter. They must have heard about the trauma I caused last week at Saltburn beach! Being serious Kennel Cough is high contagious for other dogs so the Vet may have to come out into the street to see me. I hope he/she has their full surgical mask, cap and gown on for dramatic effect. I’m sure they’ll have me right in a few days as I haven’t had a very pleasant morning. “Ah’s!” now if you please.

On a lighter note I thought I saw a Sparrow creeping up on me! I did, I did see a Sparrow! It was marginally better than seeing Flora the pussy cat in my front garden the other week but only just. No, it wasn’t Captain Jack for all you Johnny Depp fans reading this. When I went out to do my nightly nature call in my very glamorous toilet area there was a Sparrow staring right at me, in fact the poor thing looked a little startled. Well, that was after I jumped too and went into attack mode. Mama J keeps telling me to calm down, chill out. Will I listen? Will I heck! I chased this little baby Sparrow around MY yard (yeah remember that one birdie. Oh I sound like the female version of Tyson Fury) and behind the rubbish bin where it retreated for safety from my minus eight (and counting) teeth. Granny coaxed me back inside eventually (with a biscuit or two) to give me and the poor bird a chance to calm down, calm down! However by this point I was hyper and bouncing off every wall in the house. I ran up and down the stairs several times and back and forth to the back door. That little bird wasn’t going to get away with startling me in my own yard! When Grandpa came up to bed half an hour after yard incident, I was still on high alert only this time I was staring through the metal bars on Granny and Grandpa’s bed like a character in Bad Girls/Prisoner Cell Block H or Piers Morgan’s new documentary on jail birds all rolled into one. Well, I am certainly cheeky enough and my ratting instincts from the mill days are fully alive and kicking. Grandpa checked behind the bin the next morning and the Sparrow had flown off to see another day.

Now I really must encourage Chip the Yorkshire Terrier to stand up to his owner and say, “Oi Mama S keep your hands off my salmon and rice food! You know I don’t do sharing!” This is in light of Tennis supremo Serena Williams who got sick just before a tournament from “trying” Chip’s food. These athletes will give anything a go in their quest for vitality and good joints! She doesn’t need to try Winalot though as she’s done plenty of that over the years!


Today started with Mama J jumping up and down enthusiastically and telling me that we were going out for the day. I listened ever so intently as these sounded like there may be exciting times ahead of us. Well, she’s been telling me that all last week but today my “morning” out actually happened. Yes, we the Chelton’s went on tour, to the Saltburn By The Sea. I was so excitable all the way there in the car that my family remarked that Marble may just have been reincarnated into the body and mind of a travelling Yorkshire Terrier. He did love the car so much, bless (my eyes are misting up now, what a soft pooch I am).
As soon as we pulled up at the car park and got out of the Freelander, I blotted my copy book as I spy with my little eye something beginning with “D”! Mama J who always needs the toilet wherever she gets to (it’s almost habitual) ran off to answer the calls of her nature but for me the fun and games began, as oh there’s another “D” followed by another one all along the ever so breezy beach front, “D’s” a far as the eye could see. Not only did I spot the other “D’s” I told the whole of Saltburn pier about it too.
What’s a girl to do but say a resounding, “HELLO!” whether anyone wanted me to or not? The consensus was not I’m afraid! Granny and Grandpa took me down onto the beach and out to greet the sea on my extendible lead. I ran crazily like a rock star staying in a posh hotel for the first time around the sand.
Mama J sat on a bench and watched the crashing waves and loony me pelting up and down the beach, I was in my element. Mama J’s hair (and indeed mine) was as Grandpa would say, “Tousled” to the maximum when we joined her back at the bench. We sat down for a breather and to all watch and feel the bracing sea, (gosh I wish I’d bought my tartan coat) and guess what I spotted again? More “D’s” strolling quietly (Granny pointed that fact out to me) along the sea front with their owners. Granny was getting more than anguished with my behaviour by this point and suggested we eat our fish and chips in the car for fear that I would get arrested on breach of the peace charges. Grandpa went off to get the fish and chips while we sat in the car park, my behaviour leads us to such glamorous places, on a Seagull pooh splattered fence.
We did start eating our fish and chips here when from under a car I spotted another “D” so we had to move along the fence until he/she was out of my eye shot. On getting back into the car Grandpa asked, “Where to next? Do you want to go to Staithes?” and Granny who was losing the will with all my creating by this point replied, “I’m not bothered!” Home we shall go then it was agreed. On the way back Mama J being ever the optimist said, “Good girl Elsie. You weren’t that bad.” Granny snapped back, “You’re delusional!” Ah she’s just like Dot Cotton/Branning with her Nick is my Mama J. Grandpa told me when we got home that today was a test and I only got a D (no that’s not for DOG) minus. Mama J said, “Ah room for improvement then!” Although I do believe that after today I may be going for days out with Mama J in Primrose come July and Granny and Grandpa will be having some nice, quiet (none eye spy) relaxing nights away. I’ve been following Granny around adoringly since we got back and I think her mood is thawing slightly, just in time for more “D” spotting action on my afternoon village walk.


It is Saturday night and Granny and Grandpa are getting ready to go out for a meal with some friends and Mama J has turned into a slave driver from hell for the night! She’s got her old horse riding whip out of her car and is tapping it on the side of the sofa like a Dominatrix (she’s in her work uniform though not quite leathers at the ready just yet) and shouting, “Type. Type and make it funny!” Oh the pressure of coming up with a blog post on a Saturday evening when I normally “do” funny on a Monday. All this I’m assured will be worth me missing my weekly dose of the wild, wacky and wonderful acts on Britain’s Got Talent when I’m running as fast as the Sonic Bomb jet we had flying in our skies the other evening down the beach on Monday lunchtime. Mama J thought the mega loud bang was Leicester City football fans letting off fireworks as they had just won the Premier League. That I think is stretching the loudness and capabilities of fireworks all the way from Leicester but it was a resounding feat on the football clubs part no less. Massive congratulations to them on all they’ve achieved this season. Yes, we are going off for the day to Saltburn and then possibly Staithes for me to chase (sorry meant make friends with) the pooches on the beach there and then eat fish and chips and drink a yummy cup of hot chocolate. We’ll be learning whether I do like to be beside the seaside or not! More on that when I’ve written it on getting home on Monday. See I don’t get away with having a full Monday off, I have to share my experiences with the group straight away instead of digesting the ambience of the day. What did I tell you Mama J is a really hard task master? She’s been watching too many business shows on the telly. Think I should confiscate the remote control unless it is Coronation Street that she’s wanting to watch. Mind you I’ve fallen out with those Meerkats in the adverts of Coronation Street as the musical tone with the Batman themed advert makes me jump up and down barking like Rocking Robin. Mama J says, “Elsie it’s on five times a week! Can’t you get used to it and shut up!” In a word Mama J, “NO!” 

I went to the Vets the other day for my Epilepsy levels checking. Mama J had her Thyroid levels checked the other week so I can’t be let off from the experience of donating my blood to medical science as well. The Vet nearly had a puncture mark donated as well as having my blood, right into his hand as I tried to give him a sneaky nibble for trying to prod and poke at me. I think I’ve got Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) from the pain of all my dental work last year. I want a sympathetic cuddle here but Mama J’s still tapping that whip! I was fine walking through the doorway and into the reception area but as soon as the Vet called me through to the consulting room I had a panic attack and put the breaks on. Okay I mean my back paws down in full on skid mode (I’m not a car) in protest. Anyhow the Vet shaved my neck and got my blood, he’s such a charmer! Fortunately you can’t see where he shaved me due to my lovely bling bling collar as it’s a style that I don’t see catching on the dog grooming world anytime soon.

Mama J and Granny took me down the polling station, well The Village Hall that doubles up as the votes are made and I made a lot of noise in the car whilst they were in there casting their election votes. Not with my mouth may I add? I set the alarm off on Granny’s Mini bouncing around in it. Can’t a Yorkshire Terrier have their say on local governmental issues too? I always make sound sense so I would've voted so wisely! Mama J and Granny were talking to the Tortoise Shell Cats owners whilst at the polling station about Flora’s antics (that’s what the wild woman is called). Last Monday while my family were eating their cheese and biscuits for lunch Flora was mischievously heading northwards up a tree trying to chase the Black Birds. She got higher and higher up and the birds were reenacting the famous Alfred Hitchcock film The Birds and taunting her. Mama J was all set to call the Fire Brigade (any excuse to see her favourite men in uniform) as Flora was swinging frighteningly from the tree branches. Then her owners came home from their walk and as if by magic Flora came down to greet them. Phew Mama J could breathe again! She was almost turning blue holding her breath in worry for Flora’s safety. It seems this isn’t the only cheeky thing that young Flora did last week. She was in charge (yes a Cat with very authoritarian standards) of the Window Cleaners whilst they were on their rounds. Flora’s owner said she was literally inspecting the windows as they washed them and if they weren’t done to her exceptionally Army style standards she’d whimper until there wasn’t a smear in sight. I get on quite well with Cats so I might make friends with Flora and invite her over for a play date as I reckon I could learn some diva skills from her.

Now this is done I can settle down, get upset by the pinging machinery on Casualty then reserve my energies for Monday’s trip to the seaside! Bring on those Seagulls!


You know last week that I had a Tortoise Shell Cat upsetting my karma (chameleon. Sorry I love a retro sing song to Boy George and his band Culture Club)? Well, this week my evening activities of laying and chilling on my tartan cushions on the sofa have been so rudely disturbed by Mama J and Grandpa jumping up and down like the Queen cheering her horses on at The Cheltenham Gold Cup. This is all in the name of the beautiful sight a Fox running into a garden across the road from us. Mama J has named it Mr Bingo after the famous Foxy Bingo (I’m far to young and innocent to be knowing about the dark web activities of gambling sites!) adverts. You could set your watch by Mr Bingo (we don’t know the sex of the Fox as I’ve not got too close as he might think I’m dinner but for the purposes of this blog post we’ll say he’s male. Sorry Foxy if you’re not.) last week as at 8.35pm he’d gallop by. Grandpa was sat in waiting on the window ledge on Saturday evening for him to appear and was still gazing longingly like Elizabeth Bennet waiting for Mr Darcy to call half an hour later. It was the same performance last night too with no Mr Bingo in sight. There are two explanations here. The Fox has been disturbed (good as he’s been disturbing my sleep time all week running by like Usain Bolt) by our neighbours family visiting this Bank Holiday weekend or he’s gone into town, partied like it’s 1999 and raided a few dust bins for natures version of a Donner Kebab on his way home. He’d better turn up again soon though as I fear I’ll be parading the village streets with Mama J and Grandpa along with a picture of a Fox doing a fleeting impression of the 100 metres sprints photo finish!

Mama J had to relive a very traumatic period of her life last Wednesday evening when she watched Caravanner Of The Year! Mama J still has nightmares about the whole experience as she certainly did not take to caravanning like a duck to water. In fact she boarded the nearest available bus back to running water. Mama J is a shower connoisseur and didn’t take kindly to the two minute time limit imposed by Granny (and the water available in the caravans system) so went back to the civilisation of home after just two nights. She’s such a light weight! However this programme did highlight some amusing traits that Grandpa has such as planning, map reading and general countryside knowledge. Mama J and Granny in a mocking way now see how he became susceptible to the lure of the van attached to the car and indeed the joys of open road. Open as every other person was left trailing in his wake pressing their horns behind him. He’ll be getting a Harley Davison and becoming a hell raiser for his next adventures!

Mama J has had a number of “powerful” experiences this past week. I say this as I was awoken to her ranting dulcet tones yesterday morning at 6.00am, as she was calling the power company that supply our electricity a lot of unsavoury words, so very unsavoury for that time on a Sunday morning. The power was indeed off and Mama J being a luxury lady wanted to know whether she would have the power to do her morning shampoo and set. Okay that’s old fashioned hair terminology but I got from Grandpa as he said he prefers Mama J’s hair, “Tousled” when she came downstairs with straight hair this morning. Hair hasn’t been “tousled” since Mitch Buchannon’s blow waves in Baywatch! Anyhow you’ll be pleased to know normal powerful service was resumed at 7.31am (I’m very precise) and Mama J left for work with her tousled hair in tact. This wasn’t her only faulting electrical experience of the week as Primrose , Mama J’s Mini has been flashing warning lights left, right and centre. Okay the engine malfunction light has been playing up but I’m playing for dramatic effect here as it’s all my little Yorkshire Terrier ears have heard about all week! Granny rang the Mini garage and dutifully booked the car in for last Wednesday morning for them to fix the amber light. On putting the key fob into the diagnostic machine (it’s so high tech these days. What happened to a look under the bonnet and then get a hammer and spanner to fix the issue?) they could find no fault but did a full vehicle health check (maybe we all should become Mini’s so we can get looked after properly health wise) to find that the car needed new brake pads, had a small oil leak and the replacement of the dodgy sensor. £585 later (Mama J had palpitations following that conversation) the car was “ready” to collect or so Mama J and the garage thought. On driving the car to work less than 48 hours later Mama J heard a fan noise once the car was locked up and the keys were nowhere near the engines on switch. At first she thought, “Is it a bird? Is it a plane?” no it was Mama J’s car making embarrassing noises from under its bonnet, noises that would give Keeping Up Appearance’s Hyacinth Bucket a more than funny turn. The car is booked in again this Wednesday as it has been making the strange noises all weekend even when turned on for a second from cold mode and to top it all off the amber light is back on in all its glory! Mama J threatened to reenact the scene from Fawlty Towers where Basil takes his frustrations out on a motor car with a tree branch should this problem not be rectified swiftly. Grandpa is going with her to probably use his immortal line of dissatisfaction, “You’ve got to be joking!” should the bill be anything like last weeks. Wishing you luck Mini garage!