Tyred or exhausted?

Regular readers will know that I was without my car for a very long time, thanks to Bert's insistence on using a particular mechanic that he went to school with. Bert applies this 'can't trust anyone you didn't go to school with' logic to most aspects of our lives. Plumbers, electricians, builders, the car mechanic - they all went to school either with him or his brother. It's amazing he married me really, gritty Northerner that I am.

In the end I was without my car for much longer than I blogged about it. I just got too bored with the situation and became quite adept at using public transport and walking everywhere. However, the mechanic finished his final piece of work last week - fitting a new exhaust - and once I'd paid my car tax I was off again. I've managed to get out and about and enjoy the car again, and was feeling quite pleased with the situation.

However, today I was feeling very grumpy for reasons I won't go into, but which involved contacting a counsellor so I can start to deal with Bert my issues. In the end I decided a good gym session was in order to relieve my stresses and strains. Halfway there I noticed a funny noise emanating from the back of the car, which got worse and worse and eventually couldn't be ignored. I pulled over to the side of the road and took a look round the back, immediately spotting the new exhaust floating loose. "Damn," I thought. "That's all I need." I decided that the best thing was to carry on to my destination, which wasn't much further.

The sound got worse and worse and I had to drive really slowly. Who'd have thought a loose exhaust could make so much noise? When I got there I took another look and realised that in addition one of my back tyres was completely flat. "F*ck it, f*ck it, f*ck it," I thought as I speed-dialled Bert's number. We agreed that I would need to phone the emergency repair people, and of course once I'd done that I had to stay with the car. No gym, just a packet of crisps and me lying on the back seat in despair.

Luckily they weren't too long. There was a slightly bizarre moment when the counsellor phoned me just as the repair man was asking me to move my car. "Oh yes," I said to her in a manic way, "Thanks for returning my call! I'm just in the middle of a breakdown - can I call you back?"

She seemed keen to take me on.