Sunday, June 14, 2009

Confined to Quarters


A quiet weekend in, but not by design. Driving home after work on Friday, the gearstick came off in my hand as I was changing gear. Panicking, I managed to jam it into third, and succeeded in limping home the last four miles. There's a steep hill just before home, and you really need to be in first or second... just made it.

It's moments like this when you realise how English villages have had their services cut in recent years. Our village shop closed down three years ago, there's no pub, bus twice a day to Malton, er... that's it. Oh, and the lady with bantams down the road occasionally sells eggs on a cardboard box outside her house. If you want proper-sized eggs, it's a three-mile walk to the next village with a shop, and three miles back.

Still, it's left me with plenty of time for Herbie-observation. Miraculously, the nodes at the back of his knee have shrunk again. The CV247 is doing something. If only it could do more.

2 comments:

Lesley Rigby said...

Perhaps I wouldn't like to live in a cottage in the country..........
I hope you get things sorted with the gear lever very soon and have a good neighbour who will help you if necessary.
It just amazes me how Herbie can pick up. It's brilliant that he does but I'm sure he must have a gene that is super special. Shower him with kisses please.

YMO said...

OMG, how terrifying re the gearstick! I'm glad you got home in one piece.

Hope the car gets fixed before too long. It's a pain in English villages, as you say, if you are car-less.