As the weather was even good for rocket launching I decided to give my 1969 Trabant 601 a blast. That Antonine wall needs breached.
Durham is nice, good for the eyes apparently, and a full tank would get me there.
Ahh Durham, home to a place called Barbara Castle, I’ll drink to that. I put my seat belt on and went the distance. Safely, of course.
The Trabi broke down just like a satellite dish. I’m in a bit of trouble here and a bloke that looks like Ilie Nastase is giving me the evil eye.
Stay home. Stay safe. Nuff said.
A side view, so that I don’t have to blank the rego plates. 😎
Here we go! Everything is fine, except for the hundreds of pages of User Manual that I have to plough through every time I want to use or change a function.
It’s eerily quiet – spooky in Strine – but it does everything it’s meant to do with just a hint of a superior smirk if we don’t phrase our request in exactly the correct way. But we’re learning fast!
We’re trying to name her, but we haven’t yet reached agreement on what her name should be. Can any kind Charioteer make a suggestion? 😊
Well, not the Chariot precisely, but the conveyance used by our Boadicea to travel from place to place. We’ve put our ICE-powered companion out to grass- she was getting a little frail and battered around the edges – and purchased a bright-eyed, lecky-driven, millennium replacement.
Well, not quite, but the warrants have been signed, the executioner booked and the changeover set for the end of the month. Our extended test drive convinced us both that the future is already here, even for a pair of seniors like us.
Once we have our new chariot we’ll bore you with the details of our experiences, no doubt. 😎
EV = Electric Vehicle.
ICE = Internal Combustion Engine (petrol/gas or diesel)
Not surprising perhaps. Phil has done some unusual things over his 97 years. He also seems to be stubborn to a fault. Driving alone after a road accident he seems to have caused and without a seat-belt qualifies as evidence.
Today he is reported to have ‘surrendered his licence voluntarily‘. Which I’m sure is RoyalSpeak for being banned from driving. I mean, if I wanted to give up driving, I’d simply stop – with my licence intact. ‘Surrendering’ it implies police involvement – which I expect will lead in due course to serious charges.
The thing is I’m dragging my Backside back to Blighty – to reside in sunny Sussex. So I’m busy with the rather complicated process of de-Viking(ing)* us and preparing for a Spring return to our green and pleasant land.
I mention it because it’s about time there was some real news hereabouts and I know my patient reader will be mildly intrigued and might occasionally be inclined to follow the new exploits of the Janus/Backside combo.
ETA late April. Meanwhile Jack Frost and the Snow Drifters are promising to visit the wild woods very soon.
* © Janus 2018
The moon? Pieces? Helston in a handbag? (A handbag?!) Continue reading “Everyone’s gone to………”
One better than the Irish version, the Fifeshire rules indicate that you can’t park there
at all, at all, at all.
Morse would have approved, I’m sure. All bobbies in southern GB will soon have to have degrees to join the force (sorry, service).
And they will akshully undergo training. Yes, really. Come on, you say, how hard can it be? Well, allegedly, they have to learn things to qualify for protecting us. Like doctors and the military, it is said.
Well I never! And not a firearm in sight.
We’re all seasoned travellers here, so we are qualified to tell the gubmint which new runway to approve. There are no hubs which really offer an enhanced experience (!) – at least that I know of – so the decision for me comes down to ease of access to/from London for the common customer. LHR or LGW?
Easy. By car, bus, train or taxi LHR is quicker, cheaper and far less frustrating. I’m sure you all agree ?
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