We are having a Difficult Week already, and it is only Monday.
I am sorry to say that my taxi expired once more in an enormous cloud of white smoke last night, and Mark has had to spend all of today taking the engine out again.
It is going to need a very lot of expensive repair. It appears that the low budget options of the last few weeks might turn out to have been inadequate.
We do not know yet. We will have to see.
It has not been a good day for taking a taxi to bits. As you might have noticed, and if you haven’t then you jolly well should have, because I told you all about it last night, we have been having Weather.
It is not so windy now, but it has rained. After that it rained a lot more, only harder. I have added a picture of my walk this morning. I was drenched when I got back, and my coat is still dripping even now, despite having been hung up in the conservatory for the entire day.
There is a large puddle underneath it.
It has been very wet all day.
Fortunately Mark has got a handy supply of oil-rig waterproofs, which have helped, and he has not drowned, even though he has been lying wetly underneath the car.
He had just got the engine out by the time I set off for work.
He is being very brave.
We are being encouraged not to feel bleakly miserable about our wearily lot by the news this morning of an oil rig sinking just off Gabon. I don’t know exactly where Gabon is but I know it is nowhere near Aberdeen so my sympathy is distant rather than tinged with anxiety about Mark’s friends and Number One Son-In-Law. All the same, it is really horrible. There were a hundred and fifteen people on board and at least five of them have drowned.
No matter how rubbish it is to have an engineless taxi at least I do not have a husband on a sinking oil rig. My lot in life is a jolly good one.
We are holding our heads above the water. We will be quite all right.
Hence I am by myself at work, and in Mark’s car once again.
I have been occupying the long and uneventful taxi rank hours with another prolonged film on Netflix. It comes in episodes, each one with a different story, and I thought it looked interesting, although really I ought to have known better because it was made by the BBC.
It is lots of stories about a High Court judge, who naughtily pursues the spirit of his ideas about justice rather than simply endeavours to maintain the rule of law.
The BBC seems to think that this is a good idea.
I have watched several episodes so far, because it has been very quiet, but I do not think I will bother watching any more. It seems that practically every time somebody appears in front of him in his court, there is a reason that somebody political does not want them to be found guilty. So far there have been a few. There was a rascal who did not want to invest anything in Health and Safety training for his poor vulnerable employees in order that he could become filthy rich on the back of their miserably endangered labours, and there were two policemen who wickedly clubbed a hunt saboteur who was running away hiding two poor terrified baby foxes under his coat. The rest of the police were so cross with the judge for wanting to put Two Of Our Own in prison that they refused to rescue him when a lunatic tried to kidnap his daughter.
The judge said, loyally, several times, that he was sure there were lots of decent, splendid policemen, but you knew when he said it that it was just an illustration of his own trusting niceness and that the police, all of whom were portrayed by the most weasel-faced actors the BBC could hunt down, was staffed entirely by unreliable villains.
Actually, that is not true. There was one who could be trusted. You knew that because she was loyally looking after a tragic lady victim of male violence. She also happened to be a brown-skinned woman.
The violent male who had done terrible things to the woman was not supposed to go to prison, because mysteriously powerful people did not want him to.
The judge, who was obviously a Good Egg, despite his endless interruptions to cross-examinations and loyally illegal protection of a dog stolen from a vivisection laboratory, resisted the Mysteriously Powerful Political Movers Behind The Scenes on every occasion.
I am going to stop watching films if they are all going to be this sort of drivel. I do think modern films are tripe. Z Cars was a jolly lot better than this stuff.
I am going to get a decent torch in the car so I can read a book instead.
Have a picture of some weather.
