Sweet-creaks*

My taxi is still squeaking.

Actually it is more of a creak. It is loud, and I can’t decide if it is ominous or not. Probably it is. Most car noises are ominous.

I called Mark last night to ask what I should do about it, and we had some driving about time whilst he listened to hear the car creaking over the mobile telephone internet line from his oil rig, and I tried to persuade it to creak, which mostly it didn’t, obviously, although once he had gone it creaked every time I so much as touched the steering wheel.

He said all sorts of helpful things, like Well you could look at the Suspension Arm which goes underneath the wheel brace and has a bit of rubber on the end, and spray some grease into that, or there’s always the Track-Rod End although I replaced the axle joint and the sprocket just after Christmas, so perhaps you might try swinging the camshaft over the cylinder head and see what happens. Have you checked the pistons? Sometimes they go rusty and catch on the gasket, what do you think?

At least, I think that’s what he said, although frankly he had lost me after the first sentence, and so I just nodded sagely and said I’ll Give It A Go.

I couldn’t find Mark’s spray grease this morning, which turned out to be because he had left it in the camper van, which is currently parked in Aberdeen. Rather than going to get it I just ordered some more from Autoparts, which turned up on the van this morning.

My hands still smell of spray grease even now. I have made several attempts at washing them but with no happy outcome. Also I do not think any of it actually went into any bit of the car, merely dribbled off to form a large puddle in the road underneath and all over my trousers.

Also the car still squeaks.

I have crossed Motor Vehicle Technician off my list of things I would like to do when I grow up.

On a happier note, we had a splendid walk this morning. I do not have to do nearly so much laundry now that there is only one of me, and today was a Laundry Free day, but the day was so brightly breezy that I was jolly tempted, I can tell you. It seemed such a shocking waste of a fair wind.

We ploughed our way up and over the fell, and it was splendid, with skylarks and robins and blue tits and some other winged creature which I thought was a goldfinch, and was surprised when I got home and looked it up, to discover that I was right. We do not have very many of those, and it was making a very loud noise, so hopefully it will find a girlfriend soon and have lots of other goldfinches.

I have not seen my friendly blackbird for two days now. I hope it is all right. It would be terrible if he had been eaten by the cat up the road.

Having said that I would not be sorry to have Lucy’s cats to visit again, because Roger Poopy thinks that there is a rat underneath the woodshed, and keeps poking his nose underneath it and growling. I am not really speaking to Roger Poopy, because he rolled in some badger poo on the fell this morning, and although Rosie thinks he smells delightful, and is cuddling up to his shoulders and inhaling blissfully, I don’t agree, and another bath is looming ominously in his future.

In other news I have improved my nights at work by the purchase, whilst shopping in Kendal the other day, of a large bag of a sickly-green confectionery called Crystallised Kiwi Fruit. Having had a go at making crystallised fruit myself I had always resolved never to purchase any more, because the recipe is basically just a variation on sugar. You boil sugar in sugar syrup and add more sugar and glucose, then dip some fruit in the result.

Anyway I was hungry when shopping and so I bought some, and actually since then I have been jolly glad of the result. I like sugar, so it is a cheering addition to my diet, and it has been a great boost to my enthusiasm at around midnight when the world is beginning to drift into slumber. Also I know I am going to clean my teeth before I go to bed so there will be hardly any harm done at all.

Also there is nobody else here who will notice if I am fat or not.

Hurrah for the single life.

*The title was a sort of pun on Sweet Cheeks, but I didn’t think anybody would notice so I have had to spell it out, which always spoils a good joke, but I was too idle to think of another.