Phil H
Member
- Messages
- 4,182
Now look God, I know I've not been particularly devout in recent years if at all, and I know I've made a few silly mistakes in life, like buying a drop dead gorgeous Rosso Mondiale Maserati 3200gt Assetto Corsa then sending it to a far flung corner of our magnificent Empire. But I feel I paid for that with the redundancy a while back so we should be evens at least.
Yesterday, though, came yet another trial. Yesterday the sun was shining, skies were clear, temperatures were high and the roads dry, and I was at the helm of another Italian masterpiece. I'd been a good boy having taken my beloved and her folks for a riverside breakfast in the Cotswolds, and was only trying to return to my hovel when fate struck, or as my good friend Edmund Blackadder might have it “the Devil f*rts in my face once againâ€.
“So what?†I hear you ask. You did ask didn't you? Or is it the voices in my head?
Well, as you know, my home is at the other end of Salisbury Plain and to reach it I pass over beautiful ribbons of tarmac which flow across the Plain as the yolk from an egg butty flows down your chin. On the right day, that tarmac seems to melt beneath your wheels, and the bends welcome you with open arms (metaphorical you understand, as the physiology is a tad different).
Yesterday was the right day, God, so I'll tell you “so whatâ€.
For 10 bl**dy miles I was stuck behind a convoy of commercial vehicles led by a thing called a Massey Ferguson that had a huge trailer on the back.
For 10 bl**dy miles I saw the ar*e of a white van whilst pretty hedgerows slowly passed by, and I even had time to count the roadkill left for Magpies to breakfast on.
For 10 bl**dy miles my patience was tested to the limit, but I passed that test; not swearing more than once each half mile and never exceeding 40 mph, not even for a minute.
For 10 bl**dy miles I steadfastly resisted the temptation to emulate others whose commitment to progress in the face of overwhelming odds was actually quite amusing.
Still, God, my beloved, my steed, and I made it home in one piece (I suppose that should be three pieces if we're being precise) and we will try again another day, for that I do thank you.
Just one thing though, if I may Sir; if you have any remaining compassion for me and like-minded souls, could I please ask that it be exercised in time for the Goodwood FoS this weekend as there are some lovely roads on the way down. Oh, and no coppers please, especially not the ones with the blingy Skodas on the M27, think of the shame if……………..no, let's not.
With apologies to those of a more reverent disposition than I.
Yesterday, though, came yet another trial. Yesterday the sun was shining, skies were clear, temperatures were high and the roads dry, and I was at the helm of another Italian masterpiece. I'd been a good boy having taken my beloved and her folks for a riverside breakfast in the Cotswolds, and was only trying to return to my hovel when fate struck, or as my good friend Edmund Blackadder might have it “the Devil f*rts in my face once againâ€.
“So what?†I hear you ask. You did ask didn't you? Or is it the voices in my head?
Well, as you know, my home is at the other end of Salisbury Plain and to reach it I pass over beautiful ribbons of tarmac which flow across the Plain as the yolk from an egg butty flows down your chin. On the right day, that tarmac seems to melt beneath your wheels, and the bends welcome you with open arms (metaphorical you understand, as the physiology is a tad different).
Yesterday was the right day, God, so I'll tell you “so whatâ€.
For 10 bl**dy miles I was stuck behind a convoy of commercial vehicles led by a thing called a Massey Ferguson that had a huge trailer on the back.
For 10 bl**dy miles I saw the ar*e of a white van whilst pretty hedgerows slowly passed by, and I even had time to count the roadkill left for Magpies to breakfast on.
For 10 bl**dy miles my patience was tested to the limit, but I passed that test; not swearing more than once each half mile and never exceeding 40 mph, not even for a minute.
For 10 bl**dy miles I steadfastly resisted the temptation to emulate others whose commitment to progress in the face of overwhelming odds was actually quite amusing.
Still, God, my beloved, my steed, and I made it home in one piece (I suppose that should be three pieces if we're being precise) and we will try again another day, for that I do thank you.
Just one thing though, if I may Sir; if you have any remaining compassion for me and like-minded souls, could I please ask that it be exercised in time for the Goodwood FoS this weekend as there are some lovely roads on the way down. Oh, and no coppers please, especially not the ones with the blingy Skodas on the M27, think of the shame if……………..no, let's not.
With apologies to those of a more reverent disposition than I.
