The morning came the morning went

Don’t you just hate it when inanimate objects start playing up? Yesterday the car behaved perfectly, ferrying me about to view that bungalow (the rooms are too small and it needs a lot of work doing to it – from plastering in the light switches upwards) and into Leamington. Today when I wanted to nip up to the farm at the top of the hill for eggs (60p a half-dozen free range – take care not to run over the chickens) because Ned wanted to bake a cake it won’t start.

My first thought was that it was sulking because it rained overnight and it was a bit damp, so I sprayed its innards with WD40, but that didn’t do any good, and started flattening the battery. So I waited till Ned got home with the dogs and we tried to jump it from the Pug. That didn’t work either so we called the RAC. The nice man spent ages tinkering with various parts of its anatomy, and finally admitted he was puzzled, because it was behaving idiosyncratically. He reckoned it was a problem with the rotor arm, the coil block or the HT leads*. None of which he had. So the car was shoved and heaved from the centre of the drive (isn’t power steering hard to work without power?) and we went to Banbury to buy a new rotor arm.

It wasn’t that. It looks like we’ll have to call the RAC back again to tow it to a garage for diagnosis and fixification. But if we try to nurse the Pug down to our planned rendezvous in Portsmouth it’ll have to wait till Monday. Bum.

*I haven’t a clue what these bits are or do.