Last night I did a neat job, though I say it myself, and was quite pleased with the results. This evening, however, I was driving Cello-Boy back to his halls of residence, when -
Thud. S - c - r - a - p - e .
The spare tyre on a Citroen Xantia lives in a bracket underneath the boot at the rear of the car. Mine had become detached. So there, dragging on the ground under the car, was the bracket with the tyre nestling in it - and part of the bracket was a few feet behind us on the road. I was able to reattach the bracket, but I haven't the strength to hold a whole spare tyre and bracket up with one hand whilst reaching into the boot and turning the screw to reattach the whole assembly. The spare tyre is now in the boot.
As for my beautiful, manicured nails - well, astonishingly, they still look pretty good. I washed all the oil and grime off my hands when I eventually dropped Cello-Boy off. There remains just one grimy, oily split at the end of one fingertip - and I suppose it might clean up if I soak in the bath for long enough.
I'm still reading about Jacobite songs, but at nearly 10.30 pm at night, and after the various ups and downs of the day, my heart isn't in it. I hear the bathtub calling, sweetly and enticingly ...
You see? I wasn't born to be smart and sophisticated. It's not in my genes!
[Image from tradebit.com, with thanks!]
- I nearly forgot - remember no.3 son had to be bought a new water-gun? Guess what. Tempers got frayed this evening. No.1 & no.3 son both seem to have had something to do with Viola-boy's Super-Soaker giving up the ghost. A new one was sourced, this time on eBay. I hadn't bargained on that. All three boys have been chastised for fighting.