So, yesterday Mrs TMRBB sends me a diktat stating she needs a new nail buffer (
), to which I reply, "yes of course dear, I shall drive to the nearest hint of civilisation and purchase said bit of sandpaper."
So I drive to the first town we stayed in, as it had a chemist. It is CLOSED FOR LUNCH. BASTARDS!
No matter, I think, I'll pop in on the way to picking her up, as it stays open until 6. So I do that. They don't "do" nail buffers anymore and it's it pity I didn't come before the refurb as they had all that stuff before (
). "Is there anywhere nearby that would do them?", says me. "Oh, I'm not so sure - hang on a minute and I'll ring me niece for you, she'll know..." says Fife Robertson's wife. "No, really, it isn't that important" says me as I scuttle out of the place.
I walk to the pedestrian crossing and the lights are just changing back from red to flashing amber, so I assume the car coming left to right is going to pull off. It doesn't. The lights are green. Ten seconds later, the lights are still green and the car hasn't moved. What to do? Is he being uber polite as he is just smiling at me, or is he going to flatten me if I try to cross.
The answer reveals itself about five seconds later in the form of snoring...
I tentatively start crossing and another car pulls up behind sleeping bloke. An angry blast of the horn rouses sleeping bloke from his (drink induced?) snooze and he stares at me, then the green light and then floors it, missing me be just a few feet.
They are all, officially BONKERS up here.
I pick the missus up and she asks why I look so pale...and, "oh, don't worry about the nail buffer - I found it in my handbag eventually".
