Things here in Rainbow Hall have not been good. Sue has suffered the devastating lost of her ducks, George and Ozzy and those of you who have read the blog for a while will understand what that means to her. George didn't know he was a duck but rather thought that he was a dog. Ozzy fought the bit out with George in order to be top duck. They were Real Characters who have left a huge hole in her family and she is naturally distraught. So we ask you all to bear with us while we take time to regroup.



I agreed to blog today and being me got distracted so I'm late, so late that I'm wondering whether or not I should just leave this until tomorrow. But as Magnus used to say 'I've started so I'll finish.'





Friday began our Weekend Horribilis when I lost control of the car when a tyre blew out while I was going to pick up child from work. Now before you all rush to check that I'm all right, I'm fine, just a little like the way James Bond likes his martinis - shaken but not stirred. This did not amuse folk here one little bit. It was not the fact that I was speeding ever so slightly - I know it was stupid - I was late and yes, I know better late then never being able to get anywhere ever again. No that wasn't what ticked them off. It was more that I covered it not only from the Biglad but from them that got me a flea in my ear. Now, wait. I can promise you you are going to see it my way when I've finished expounding the facts.

You see, the tyre blew, the steering went doolally and I ended up sideways in the ditch at the side of the road. Yes, it was a scary moment and my arms were nearly pulled out of their sockets but all I said was 'Sugar.' I find that at moments of extreme stress my language does not become that of the navvy but rather that of a three year old. I dutifully pulled my mobile out of my handbag and rang Child to say I was going to be a tiny bit late and then the Biglad to say I'd had a puncture and could he ring the garage to come and pick me up. I am aware actually that a puncture and a blow out convey two different meanings but he was having a meeting with people who had had to catch planes in order to get together, and I WAS FINE. I know my husband - one whiff of an idea that accident prone me had struck again and he'd be out the door leaving his poor assistant struggling with his poor grasp of Italian and trying to remember who doesn't like who. So I said nowt apart from - get the garage to come and change the wheel for me, there's a love. No, it's fine - wee scratch that's all. Me, I'm grand me. Just need someone to change the wheel for me and I'll away and get the child.- Not a lie at all. A mere obfuscation. And here I would point out that I do know how to change a wheel, my arthritis doesn't allow me to.

The nice young man from the garage duly arrived and may I just say thank you to all the people who zoomed past me in order to get somewhere else quickly. A woman stopped to check I had a phone to call for help which was good of her and an elderly gentleman stopped to say he couldn't help because of his arthritis and he'd no phone but could he go and get me some help, which was sweet. The rest of the Friday afternoon traffic threatened to do me more damage than the tyre. As Sue and I both chorused later 'what is the world coming to?'

Anyway, nice young mechanic man stepped out of the van and sucked air through his teeth. 'Did you tell your husband that this was just a puncture?' and shook his head. Look, it was drivable, there was no blood and I could still speak. What is the big deal?

So, when I came home I explained to Sue that I didn't feel like going shopping because the car and me and the tyre had fallen out. No, I was fine, the car? wee scratch that's all. Because you might have realised the sort of woman she is - she'd have been looking for a flight over to make sure I was still breathing. And I spent the afternoon pleasantly trading insults and generally recovering by messing.

And then I let slip that the nice garage man reckoned that the damage done to the car would be about £600 worth. Now they're not slow here and twigged that that is not a scratch type of estimate. And then the Biglad called into the garage to thank them for coming to my aid before he came home and the nice garage man filled him in with some of the missing details.

And I spent Friday and Saturday explaining how I was right and they were wrong. They appear to think that this was a hangable selfish act while I believe that it was a selfless act. The Biglad was incandescent - apparently I'd removed his choice about the situation and claims that he would not necessarily have left work to come to the road side. Aye. Right. And even Sue's Himself waded into the argument with unhelpful remarks about sending over a tyre for me to sit on because in his opinion I should need one.

It took me to Sunday to get someone to agree with me and he'd only do so if he was allowed to see the other side of the argument as well. Fence sitter. We've all agreed to disagree now - helped along by the sympathy I needed on Saturday and Sunday when the effect of being thrown around the car kicked in and I was as stiff as a board. However, I've been assured that my argument that it's not lying when you withhold information for someones own good does not wash and apparently it does matter.

I'm sure that our readership see it my way and for once, if you don't, keep it to yourself. My ear's been roasted enough thank you.