Through The Triangular Window

After an uneasy morning we Jazzed back to the car dealership to sort a problem.

The problem was not with the Jazz but with the Golf left for trade-in. You see, although Mr Flum had taken everything out of the boot, the door pockets, the glove box, had even remembering the CD, he realised last night that he had omitted to empty one other receptacle.  The drawer beneath the driver's seat contained the notebook where we record fuel refilling, tyre checks and stuff, and this goes back to the time we bought my car, an ancient Ford Fiesta, to get me to work when he had to make journeys in the family car. All my subsequent cars are in there, and the book continued in use when we reduced our fleet to a single car, as that is the one with the personal number plate.

But the dealership is very thorough, they had found the book and thoughtfully set it aside, so we drove down after church to collect it and the two bird books we had forgotten about.

By way of relief we drove down to Dawyck to join the world and his wife and granny or two in the cafe for lunch. Despite the constant queue, the staff were unfailingly cheerful and friendly and, once ordered, it was not long before our sandwiches arrived, freshly prepared and deliciously full.

We took a slightly different cross-country route home, taking the B712 west, stopping to take a photo of the River Tweed from the Merlindale Bridge (west of Drumelzier), north on the A701 to Broughton and west on the B7016 to Biggar then home on the A702.

So, having taken care of the old-fashioned system in time to set up a page for refilling the Jazz, we now have to engage with the fancy techy-stuff, like which button will cancel this built-in feature and what button to press for that necessary activity. 

After that I might have a go at driving the thing.