Fern

What’s the goss, you may ask. That Trump character is over here to meet Queenie and walk about like a big dolt. Coincidentally, I gave Ferry Marine a call about the inflatable and then drove over to Livingston with it. The guy came out to examine it and as soon as I opened the tailgate I could see that a couple of areas had totally parted company. Just by lifting it into the boot? I think I was lucky to make it back across the harbour. Home via the dump. I suppose nine years for £360 isn’t so bad. Especially since I just renewed my HMFC season ticket for bliddy five hundred. What madness.
Later, much clipping of the stumps up the top before I was summoned to drive to the wilds of Gorebridge where the Beetle had been miraculously re-sumped by a Colin in a garage at back of his semi where wild kids and feral dogs did roam. The car was parked along the street a bit. Just as well there weren’t any wheel-trims to start with I’d say.