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!