Occasional tedious ramblings from a feminist, atheist, autistic academic and historic narrow boater who likes cats, beer, tea, and solitude, and is strangely fascinated by the cinema organ.
Monday, 18 January 2010
Here's my wintry picture of the day. We had a grand day out yesterday, marred only by the fact that after we had reached our far flung destination, achieved our mission, and then repaired to a local hostelry for a much anticipated lunch... I discovered that I had left my purse at home. Not only did that mean no lunch; it also meant probably not enough petrol to get home.
We scrabbled around in the car (having naturally cleared it of excess coinage only the day before) and in our pockets and amassed the sum of £4.50. This probably genuinely made the difference between getting home and having to call out an ex-husband (the only person I could think of whose path we might cross at the point when the petrol ran out). But we got home - and even picked up a hitch hiker on the way, a very well spoken young man who was on his way back to Brighton from a climbing competition - did I know that such things existed? - in Crawley.