Boy Racers, Shiny Black Leather Gear, VWUP And Land Rovers …

iHi All

I hope you all had a good weekend? We woke to snow here again on Saturday, not much, but enough to settle for a while. Now it is cold and the idea of spring being just ten days away seems impossible.

Last week, for one reason or another, was a bit of  a pain. I spent far too much time sitting in front of the laptop, messing about and producing nothing. So I decided  that getting out of the house for a few hours on Saturday morning might be just the thing.

Suited and booted off we went with the car pointed towards Leicester. We turned off way before Leicester. Strange but on average I reckon I must go into ‘town’ once a year …or even less. We decided to go to a shopping complex nearby where Richard could purchase something for Mother’s Day. Within two minutes of leaving the house Richard started ranting about a car that pulled straight out from a side road. I took a deep breath. Richard then began his ten-mile rant about how some ‘boy-racer’  had cut him up on his moped, on his way to work, almost causing him to fall off it.

Yes I know, the vision of 6′ 4″ Richard on a moped is funny right? Apparently his work mates always shout, ‘Pizza delivery!’ whenever they see him arriving at work. He does paint a funny picture actually, all geared out in posh black leathers and with a fancy shiny black helmet. But, I should point out that Richard also has a massive, black, super-duper motor bike. He chooses not to go to work on that in favour of what he lovingly calls the goped. Work by the way is no more than two miles from the house so he isn’t seen by millions. Just the odd neighbour (all our neighbours are odd) who shouts,  ‘Bike still going alright then, Richard?’ He never hears him. And that is reassuring because I am often under the impression that it is just me he never hears.

So Richard had his rant about crap drivers, insisting that one day I would be getting a phone call from the police to say that they had him in custody for bashing some lousy driver who had sent him into a ditch. Ten miles on, I decided it was time I hauled him in and merely said something like, ‘It’s just another case of the big thinking they can shit on the little.’

And you know something? It is. I noticed it immediately when we bought the little VW UP. We had only driven it off the forecourt and some 4 x 4 cut us up on a roundabout. I notice it all time. The big guys dumping on the little guys.

I told Richard that he needs to get Betsy on the road and use her to go to work in.  He let my words sink in while he negotiated his way into a parking space and turning to look at me with that smacked-face look of his said, ‘I shouldn’t have to go to work in a tin box just to feel safe, should I?’

I was taken by surprise and almost choked on the banana that I just finishing off. Betsy a tin box? His beloved Betsy a tin box?

He saw the astonishment on my face and quickly added, ‘Well you know what I mean.’

I do know what he means. Betsy is an old tin box. It’s not world breaking news, is it? I’ve always known it.

Sunday, being Mother’s Day, off he trotted to see his mum, gift secure in a lovely silver bag that I produced for him. He’s a bit lacking in the presentation department and won’t blink an eye at giving gifts bunged into an old, plastic supermarket bag. He gives cards with the price label still on as well.

My son arrived shortly after Richard leaving, with a bouquet of pink flowers, a box of heart-shaped chocolates and two cards. And while I made the tea Matt checked out my new laptop that has windows 8 and found lots of bits on it that had been alluding me. I have still only scratched the surface with windows 8. Bit confusing if you ask me.

So, my friends, just a peaceful little blog today. No major rants. No pulling plugs on fb pillocks. Just a little, discreet, subliminal message for the big guys – in ALL walks of life –  STOP shitting on the little guys.

Tomorrow is the love of my life’s birthday. Who? Richard of course. I have bought him chocolates, chocolate Turkish delight (yuck), A toffee birthday cake (couldn’t be bothered to make one), and the 3 x DVD collection of Africa, the series that has just finished on the TV and that I didn’t get the chance to watch at the time. I’m not sure if he wants the Africa DVDs but I do so, there you go. And as Richard is always saying – if I’m happy, then he’s happy. Not much for the love of your life I hear you bellow. No, it isn’t. But then he has me and I’m priceless! Ha ha. And if you believe that you will believe anything!

Joking apart, I shall give him a bit of dosh to spend on frigging Betsy the Land Rover and then maybe he will finish her off (if only) and he can go to work to the shouts of, ‘Oh arr, oh arr, here comes Farmer Giles, watch out for the pig shit.’

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Take care my lovelies x

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9 thoughts on “Boy Racers, Shiny Black Leather Gear, VWUP And Land Rovers …

  1. brilliance, pure brilliance,,you have done it again, i was dozing off, then started to read your blog and now im awake lol Well done, OH and happy birthday Richard.

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  2. We spend as little money as possible on our motoring as my 6 ft 4 in tub of lard thinks motoring is a money pit. He is an advanced car and motorbike rider for the police and I frequently hear rants about other drivers too but I have the added pleasure of watching my husband prove a point. I think it’s his way of fighting back in our little Carisma that has no charisma. It’s a man thing, all men are grumpy old women when it comes to driving. Factor in the “it’s not my fault” personality trait and we are in for a long drive…

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