Romancing the rover.

Been a bit rushed off my little feet these last few weeks so lets play a pleasant little game of catch up.

It all started really during Xmas.

Now, I would point out that usually I am Mr Health and Safety when it comes to tools and things.
Many years in the St John Ambulance taught me that human beings and tools are things that can be a devastating mix, recipe for disaster, pain and of course, copious claret....

So just before the new year when I was making some bits of wood a bit smaller my normal approach would be to get all the gear out before I did so, but is was only a few bits and my gloves were in the van and I would just get the lethal little firefighters hand axe and split a few bits and

Whack Whack whack

"&*&&*())) &&&*(&&&^"

I said.

Claret everywhere and I had damn near removed the top of my thumb.

Naturally my two daughters were all sympathy. Phrases such as:

"Phoar that's a mess" and

"Bet (tee heeee) that hurts dad (teee heeee)" were much in evidence.

Eventually, figuring that it would probably hurt me - a lot.

Branwen, aka Sir Bruce, volunteered to help me rebuild the top of my thumb.

I recruited her in order to save our beleaguered NHS another job which i was quite capable of doing myself.

I also knew that any doctor worth his salt would wish to explore the wound and that was another phrase for PAIN. I didn't think to share this with the girl in question because of course she would immediately have spotted the possibility and insisted that:

a I should go to casualty

b She should attend to view the unexpected entertainment.

To finally tip that balance my eldest reminded me that I really should get a Tetanus booster.

Now I am a 6 foot one biker type, but me and needles really do not get on. I still remember the last time, Bethan spent days telling her mates, my mates and indeed any one who would listen how daddy had to lie down...

So anyway between us and a pack of steri strips we did a reasonable job of rebuilding my thumb though it was pretty obvious the nail was going to come off at some stage.

Then of course, the phone tintinabulated and it was the object of my love and passion, their beloved mother.

At least here was someone who showed concern, well, when she had finished laughing.

Should she rush home? No said Bethan it was only daddy, Brannie was sorting it and by the time mummy got home there would be nothing to see.

Such is the life of love and affection i lead here Chez Moi.....

So anyway the days passed and eventually, very eventually it stopped raining.

In fact it was quite exquisite in that clear mid winter day sort of way that is a true delight of living in the country.

Taking this as our excuse out we went to do lunch at a local hostelry where we very often go when we cannot think of a suitable excuse to stay home, like being broke or needing firewood.

A nice lunch ensued and the day progressed well.

Time for home and we thought it might be fun to drive along the bottom of the valley rather than home over the mountain.

This is where it all started to unravel.

Clearly, the valley had experienced rather a lot of excess water and , as we rounded a bend there were floods.

So anyway it wasn't deep but of course she doesn't do water and with me at the wheel our rover entered a not particularly deep stream.

This of course was "her" car , a rather ancient but sprightly and thrifty Rover 220 powered by diesel.

Now, when they designed the Rover they got all through the design process then someone remembered they had not included any means of getting air inside the engine.

This is endemic in modern cars, styling, stereo, sunroof, these are all things deemed more important than making a car move these days.

So of course some genius came up with the idea of sticking the air inlet under the front bumper.

Of course as I drove into the floods it took in a great gobful of water........

Now water and engines are not a good mix.

When water goes into an engine it can do lots of cataclysmic type things.

Make that engine a diesel that's running and things often get really interesting with big bits of engine deciding to get out and walk and through the side of the engine at that too.....

By a mixture of luck and errrrrrh luck we avoided total catastrophe and a push out of the water, where having decided to wear biker boots seemed to have been far wiser than her decision to wear trainers later, off I went to get the cavalry.

Well OK not quite the cavalry, my IVECO and a hefty rope.

Dragged the car home, and dry everything out.

This being a modern car it is blessed with electronics and these of course took this as their excuse to have a very thorough sulk.

4 days it took to dry out enough to agree to that it was not in fact being stolen, interfered with or otherwise molested.

Ahh the delights of modern cars.

Give me a 1955 green goddess every day....

R