Firstly, apologies for not writing a post for over 6 months! With the wedding, the honeymoon and applying for new jobs- the time has flown. However, I am back on track now (as a married woman) and ready to put my ramblings out there again for all to see!
So, something happened to me yesterday that I have managed to avoid for 11 whole years. No, the Board of Education did not finally catch up with me and reveal I cheated in my A levels. It was the dreaded flat tyre.
Picture a cold, excessively windy Monday morning at 8am down a busy road in North London. Having already pushed the limit for the time I have to leave the house in order not to be late for work, I scurried over to the car to be confronted by a pathetic mass of deflated rubber...with a shiny, pointy screw sticking cheekily out of the top. Cue panic stations tantamount to the announcement of World War 3.
What should I do? Where do I go?? I'm immobilised!!
Quickly ringing my boss to explain my Monday morning lateness was not due to over exposure to the snooze button, I decided there was only one thing for it.
Wake the husband.
As you can imagine, being woken from the cosy warmth of your bed to attempt to perform a mechanical manoevure whilst the moon is practically still out did not get received with the politest response. In fact, complete with shirking under the duvet, the words "Go" and "Away" were definitely uttered. Playing the helpless wife card he eventually relented and joined me as we stood, puzzled, staring at the offending tyre and wishing Top Gear was actually useful for something other than looking at flash cars we can't afford.
Digging through shoes, books, empty petrol containers and pairs of socks that I keep in the boot for emergencies, we discovered what looked like a missing tyre of a wheelbarrow (apparently also known as a "SpaceSaver" spare tyre) and a random assortment of dusty tools. Between us, the amount of knowledge on changing a tyre amounted to one experience Lee had 14 years ago.
Lying on the floor and looking suprisingly confident, he began to unscrew the tyre whilst I attempted to prevent a Marilyn Monroe moment as my dress flapped about insanely in the wind.
Credit where credits due, he got the tyre off and replaced it with the equivalent in the tyre world of Jeremy Beadles right hand. It was then left to me to drive to a garage to play the hapless female who just didn't know what to do and hope for a speedy and cost effective service. Luckily, I had it all repaired and replaced within 20 minutes of arriving at the garage and only dented my purse by £15.
I honestly had never felt so redundant in my life, I'm not a girly girl but had absolutely no clue what to do in the situation and was very pleased it didn't happen anywhere than outside my doorstep! That reminds me, must put my membership details for the AA actually INSIDE the car and not in the flat....
