I have taken my car to have its tracking done.
This badly needed doing. The lady who fitted the new tyres at the tyre place was very severe about it. I knew that it needed doing anyway, because Mark had said so, so she was wasting her telling-off, but I had not got my act together, and so today was the day.
It has been booked in since Monday. The man at our local garage is too busy just to do things whenever you happen to want them, although I had popped in yesterday on the off chance anyway. Also I am always going to be a very rubbish customer since Mark does more or less everything so the garage man has no interest in my goodwill, and hence was not making much effort to gain it.
I sympathised with this entirely. I have got no interest in customers who want tiddling little jobs done and who are never going to come back anyway, and so I did not at all mind that he did not trouble himself to be polite, because I wouldn’t have either.
Having said that, some of my customers got in last night and told me that some girl had seen them trying to flag me and warned that they never should get in my taxi because I had tried to run her over once.
Given that the incidences of my attempted murder of pedestrians has been less than one in my entire taxi driving career, I was surprised by this. Tried not to run her over whilst she staggered drunkenly across the road would have been more like it.
Clearly the warning had no effect since the customers got in anyway, and said that they thought the girl was a complete weirdo, it did not matter, but it was irritating just the same. I do wish people would not come up with this garble.
She had given them a taxi number for a taxi driver whom she liked better and promised that he would not run anybody over on their way home, which they had promptly discarded because they thought she was very peculiar.
I assured them that in that at least, she had been correct, and that indeed, they could comfortably get in any taxi on the taxi rank without needing to feel anxious that the driver was merely cruising around searching for victims on the pavement.
Sometimes people are mental.
Anyway, the dogs and I deposited my car at the garage and had a surprise extra walk home, surprise for the dogs, that is, obviously I had been expecting it. They were very good, they always are when they are a bit unsure what is happening, and tagged along at my heels with quite remarkable virtue. I told them they were good dogs, and rewarded them with another walk back again later. I think the car might even be running more smoothly now, although really I can’t tell and I might just be making that up.
I was glad to get home. I have had a lovely day. My kind, splendid friend Amanda has taken the trouble to read all of my current story and to go through it in fine detail. We had two more Zoom meetings today whilst she talked about it and told me what she thinks.
She is a very good writer herself so I care very much what she thinks, and I was very grateful indeed. It has taken her hours and hours and hours.
I was so inspired by the end of it that I wrote another thousand words this afternoon. This is a bit rascally really, because I am supposed to be making Lucy’s curtains and I haven’t put a single stitch into them since Mark left, but I don’t care. I am writing my story and all of my thoughts are occupied by it at the moment.
I feel like Bilbo Baggins. I am so immersed in it that I would like to put a sign on the gate which says No Admittance Except On Story Business, although of course I can’t because John the postman and the milkman would think I was going a bit potty, but that is how I feel. I am thinking about almost nothing else, except about dinner and the occasional interruption of laundry.
I have got a few more days of peace. Lucy’s boyfriend is coming to stay because he is working here for a couple of days, but he will probably not mind if I can’t think of anything to talk about as long as there are plenty of sausages in the fridge.
I am having the loveliest time.
I am writing my story.
