Tag Archives: car

An Easter Saturday Chuckle

This makes you think and also puts things in perspective.

Diet Apple Juice 16 oz. – £1.29 ……. £10.32 per gallon.

Lipton Ice Tea 16 oz. – £1.19 ……….. £9.52 per gallon.

Ocean Spray 16 oz. – £1.25 ………… £10.00 per gallon.

Brake Fluid 12 oz. – £3.15 …………. £33.60 per gallon.

Vick’s Nyquil 6 oz. – £8.35 …….. £178.13 per gallon.

Pepto Bismol 4 oz. – £3.85 ……….. £123.20 per gallon.

Tippex (White out)7 oz. – £1.39 ……. £5.42 per gallon.
And this is the REAL KICKER.

Evian water 9 oz. – £1.49 ….. £21.19 per gallon.
£21.19 for WATER and the buyers don’t even know the source.

(Evian spelled backwards is Naive.)

You don’t even want to compare it with
perfume or after shave!!!!!!!

Ever wonder why printers are so cheap?

So they have you hooked for the ink.
Someone calculated the cost of the ink at
(you won’t believe it ….. but it is true ……..)

£5,200 per gallon … (Five thousand two hundred pounds)

So, the next time you’re at the pump, be glad your car doesn’t run on water, or Tippex, Pepto Bismol, Nyquil or, God forbid, Printer I

Just a little humour to help ease the pain of your next trip to the petrol pump.


Good Party

Boofuls and me went to a party at our friends house last night.  We weren’t expecting much, a few nibbles and polite conversation.

How wrong can you be?

It was a hoot!  The funniest part of the evening had to be watching our host’s daughter squirming with embarrassment at the highly inappropriate conversation that was going on between her Dad and a guest.  “Yoo -hoo, Dad! I can hear this, you know.”

The ‘nibbles’ were amazing (wipes drool off face even at the thought of the food).   Our host loves to entertain and cooking is his latest passion. I can feel he’s hankering after putting his skills to the test on Come Dine With Me or Masterchef. He’d probably do ok as well (let’s not talk about the charred garlic bread).

Lashes has been having a spot of trouble with her car for the last week or two, it’s finally back on the road after having a few refinements fitted to bring it up to scratch:


Our friend Kev, put this link on Facebook. Superb blast from the past, I thought you might enjoy it.  Lay back, close your eyes and enjoy the music.

Stop the world- I wanna get off!!!

We had Sunday off work. Aaaaaaahhh. It was lovely not to have nothing to do – so that’s what we did- nothing. Lounging around watching telly and relaxing.  I must have been tired, that’s not my style at all, normally I’m like Tigger on speed.

As much as I’d have like to spend this week filling little pots again I have my own business to run so I’ve decided to leave them to it. Monday morning was spent on album design and Monday afternoon as normal on baby sitting.

It was an odd one this week because Baby Bunting was ill with an upset stomach and had been vomiting like something off ‘The Exorcist’  not with the whole head twirly round thing as well, you understand. It that instance she  would really have been possessed  –  and it would have been a lot harder to deal with no, it was just projectile vomit and lots of it.

By the time I picked her up she had stopped vomiting but was pale and not at all herself.  Setting off for home from the factory I strapped her into her car seat while holding my car keys in my left hand. I couldn’t do up the straps with my hands full so I dropped the keys onto the front passenger seat. Un-noticed by me they’d locked the car. The point that I noticed was when I finished strapping the baby in and closed the door. ‘Funny,’ I thought, ‘the door lock button is……….SHIIIIIIT!’

At this point I felt my own wave of nausea as I realised the baby was locked in the car with the keys. Baby sat there smiling at me while I frantically tried all the doors. I don’t know why I tried all the doors, I could see they were locked. Next I strolled casually though to Booful’s  office so that C (baby’s mum)wouldn’t  panic.

“Got a bit of an issue outside, Boofuls.”

Boofuls came and tried to get in the car,  two young lads on a  motorbike tried to get in it ( I’d have put money on them being able to get in), The chap from the unit round the corner came as well. I dashed to see the 4wd specialist in one of the other units to see if he could help.  One chap who happened to be there at the time cheerfully shouted, “smash the windows!”  Hhmmm bit of a last resort with a baby in the car, that.

All attempts to get in the car failed, I was starting to think the window would have to go through.

By this time C had noticed the kerfuffle, the air of us were practically doing a song and dance routine to keep the baby amused while everyone else stuck screwdrivers and other paraphenalia into keyholes and such.

Just as Boofuls remembered there was a spare key at home, a couple of bigwigs turned up to do a spot check on the pot filling job. Oh crap crappity crap!  Could this day get any better? Boofuls, told them they’d have to wait while he went home for the key.

I’m not sure but I think he may have broken a speed limit or two on his journey because he was back with the spare key in record time, baby was released, Mum gave her a big hug, Nanny almost collapsed with relief.

And the moral of the story is: Keep your car keys about your person till it’s time to start the car!

Talking about the car wash, babe

Did I mention that I love my new car?

As a person who’s never really been into cars in a big way, except for when I got my posemobile all those years ago, I don’t really take that much interest in them and you’d certainly not catch me watching Top Gear.  Maybe I’m still on the rebound from my short but disastrous reltationship with my previous car, that ‘orrible Freelander, God, I was glad to see the back of that one, I can tell you. Whatever the reason, I love my car.

It struck me a little while ago while on a particularly long and boring motorway journey that if they made Grand Vitara’s in Lancashire they could call them Reet Grand Vitara’s. What a great marketing tag line that’d be!

‘Awreet Cocker, tha mun get thi  Reet Grand Vitara fre a dealer near thy terday. Med in Lanky fer Lanky fork. Aye.’


Anyway, since I love my new car so very much I’ve decided to give it a weekly wash and keep it looking gorgeous (just don’t look too closely inside).  It’s been as dusty as a one horse mid western town round here since it hasn’t rained for a few weeks, so it’s fair to say that it was a bit on the mucky side and definitely not looking it’s best.

As an extra special treat I decided to give her the ‘full monty’ £5 drive through car wash yesterday.

Those drive through car washes absolutely scare the bejaysus out of me so that just proves how much I love my car to be putting it through there. The brushes started swishing and the water started pouring. As normal I checked the windows twenty seven million times to make sure they were all shut and then sang to drown out the noise. Swish, swish, swish went the brushes with an almost hypnotic sound, I was gradually getting used to and almost being lulled by the rythmic sound.  Not as bad as I’d thought this.

Swish, swish, swish.

Swish, swish, swish, clank.  Huh?

Swish, clank, swish, clank.

That can’t be good.

When the brushes parted like a stage curtain they revealed the sorry spectacle of my car arial hanging forlornly on the windscreen.

NOOOO, I forgot to retract the arial. Crapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrappitycrap!!

My poor car! It was supposed to be a treat, a nice gentle massage clean not a torture session, poor car,  ripped apart limb from limb!

Telling Bob of our misfortune when he got home – although I think he already had a pretty good idea as the errant arial was lying on the garden table, he turned into Mr State The Bleeding Obvious and pointed out to me that it’s customary to retract the arial before going through a car wash. “Really, dear? Fancy.”

Hhhmmph, well don’t worry, we wont be doing it again, it’s far too stressful. It’s the jet wash for me in future.

What a terrible day – but not for me!!

Poor old C has been tearing her hair out today.

Trying to tax her car she discovered that the MOT ran out ages ago.  PANIC!!!

A quick call to the local MOT centre got it booked in for this afternoon.  “It’ll be an hour” he said.


By late afternoon they’d established that it wouldn’t be ready till tomorrow  – and it was going to cost £160.  A tearful C asked me if I would nip (Ha! – Nip? It’s 5 miles) to the MOT centre to get her house keys off her keyring.

As a good mother should I set off to get the keys, The mechanic at the centre, after trying to hand me the keys for a very nice Ford Fiesta, realised who I was then handed me C’s door key which was ready and waiting for me. I took it and dropped it straight into my pocket.

I texted C to suggest that I pick up the baby from nursery and then pick up Ol from work before meeting her at home to save yet more running about on my part.  No reply.

I phoned. No reply. Now that was odd. C has had her phone surgically implanted. Something had to be wrong.

I phoned work. C answered. “My mobile’s broken.”

Setting off to get the baby from nursery I felt C’s key nestling safely in my pocket. After nursery I set off to get Ol, sitting in the  half mile long traffic jam at the temporary traffic lights that stay on green long enough to let 3 cars through, I once again checked C’s key was still safely in  my pocket.

Hang on!!!!

That feels like a car key!!!!  WTF???



Return call from C: “They’ve gone.


The baby gurgling quietly and happily in the back of the car prevented me from fully venting my spleen at that point.  Ol just sat quietly looking at the floor.

Next phone call from B:  They haven’t gone home – they’re waiting for you.

Negotiating rush hour traffic jam after rush hour traffic jam, we finally made it back to the MOT centre where a cold, miserable and sheepish mechanic handed me the correct keys.

Back through the rush hour traffic we set off to C’s. She and B were in his car waiting for us to arrive. Poor C looked thoroughly miserable.  I felt so sorry for her.

Oh well, it could have been worse, we might not have caught the mechanic before he went home and then they’d have had to spend the night at our house.

What an exciting afternoon. I knew I wouldn’t be bored for long!

High Hopes for today

They’re coming today.


The people that are going to buy our  house. I can feel it in my water.

There’s just time to dash off a quick post before I run round like a mad woman beautifying, hiding evidence and generally making the place look desirable.

I’ve got more hight hopes than normal for this lot becasue the agent contacted us a few weeks ago to see if you would be prepared to doa part exchange for a house in Bacup..

“Bacup? *snort* I don’t think so.”

Anyway, against all odds they’ve managed to sell their house and are dead keen to get a look at ours. These are the ones who were desperate enough to want to come during the week when it was dark. I can feel it in my water, I tell you.

Funny. When we bought the new car I said to B, “just watch, as soon as we get a 4wD we’ll sell the house and won’t need it. What are we waiting for, get a new car bought!”

Since then we’ve had a positive stream (well, more like a trickle, really) of viewers.

N has indeed fallen on his feet on the job front. He’ll be leaving home  next week to go and work in a live in job in Bolton in a hotel that’s just been taken over by one of his friends.  Told you, once things happen, they happen quickly. We’ll sell this house today or I’ll eat my computer!!

On a less positive note: my 50th birthday is getting scarily close. People keep asking me what I’m going to do to celebrate it but I can’t work up any enthusiasm. Sticking my head in the sand and lying about my age seem to be favourite at the moment.  Of course when you consider the  other what the alternatives to reaching 50 are, I’ll take the birthday, thanks. Just don’t expect me to do it with good grace.