Miss Daisy's Diaries

Miss Daisy's Diaries
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Monday, 5 December 2011

Gone To The Dogs

“Country’s gone to the bloody dogs,” growls Her Ladyship.  “I mean,” she adds, “when some trades union whinger complains about a remark made in jest by Jeremy Clarkson on a TV show, I simply despair.  We all know that he’s famous for polemic remarks like this.  Mind you Old Girl, I agree, I think they should be shot.  Country’s on its knees and they walk out on strike because they won’t be able to enjoy the gilt edged pensions they’ve become accustomed to.  Meanwhile it is poor pensioners like me on my meagre income that have to pay for it in taxes.”

Oh God, here she goes again, on the bandwagon about something that she can do absolutely nothing about and it’s always me that gets the brunt of it.  I mean, what does she want me to do about it?  Lead a coup of septuagenarians to occupy County Hall here in Pembrokeshire and then declare UDI?  I think not!  Let’s face it without my engine; I couldn’t make it very far.

It’s always the same.  Winter’s here and she gets bored, so she comes out to my garage and has a little rant at me.  Oscar the asthmatic barking dog, having followed her out and expecting a trip through the countryside, notices that my engine isn’t there, shrugs his shoulders before heading over to a sunny corner for a snooze. 

“It’s no use talking to him Old Girl, he doesn’t understand what I am on about.  Considering the look on his face, I imagine he thinks I am off my trolley.”  Well Madam, far be it from me to say, but if the cap fits and all that…

“Hang on a minute…  It’s not windy today is it?”  Well actually Your Ladyship, it’s rather a nice day and that is unusual here in Pembrokeshire.  “Tell you what, I have a few hours to kill…  And I have a large can of gunk…  Why don’t I clean your engine compartment ready for a new coat of paint before your engine comes back?  I think I’ll try out that new spray gun.  I’ll just go and get changed.”

Moments later, she’s back.  She rolls me outside, fills the spray can with this obnoxious chemical and starts the compressor.  She then attacks my front end with the same enthusiasm that the ‘Asthmatic Barking Dog’ uses to attack a bone.  Within seconds the air is heavy with this chemical cleaner and ‘You know who’ is kneeling on the ground having a coughing fit.  “What the hell do they put in that stuff?  I should instruct my solicitor”.  This comes from a woman wearing no eye protection or a breathing mask. 

A few minutes later, she is recovered and she clambers to her feet.  “Right Old Girl, let’s wash that all off.”  She disappears in to the garage and returns with a pressure hose.  “This won’t take long,” she shouts as she powers the thing up.  Now I always thought you had to hold tightly on to the spray head.  Her Ladyship doesn’t and the ‘Asthmatic Barking Dog’ is the first to receive the high-pressure jet of water, almost rolling him over.

“Blast the thing,” she cries as she tries to tame this wildly swinging jet of water.  A potted plant goes flying across the yard, smashing in to a wall.  Then the jet of water finds its way in to the garage, throwing tools off the workbench and knocking my spares off the shelves.  Eventually Her Ladyship manages to control this squirming snake and directs it towards my bulkhead.  Unfortunately, she directs the water straight in to a concave section.  It hits me and swirls round immediately and heads straight back out towards whence it came.

It takes a few seconds for Her Ladyship to switch the thing off and she stands there in front of me with water dripping from her forehead, nose and chin.  She’s soaked to the skin.  “I’ll think I’ll go and have a hot bath,” she says and turns on her heel to go back in doors…  What about me then?

Tuesday, 1 November 2011

Well, would you believe it?

I mean...  Well, what cheek....  Not content with collecting my diaries together to turn in to a book, now Her Ladyship has plonked a website into the ether in the hope that someone will go to Amazon and download the kindle version of my book.  "It's only ninety nine pence Old Girl" she said.  Ninety nine pence?  Good grief is that all that the diaries of a 77 year old child of the Austin Motor Company is worth?

"Still have to find a publisher for the printed book version Old Girl.  That will sell for more.  Well I hope it will sell for more.  Let's concentrate on finding you e readers for now.  Who knows, you might end up being famous.  There again..."  Cheeky cow, who does she think she is?

I have lived with this woman for 7 years now and I had planned to enjoy my Autumn years quietly.  I wanted to write my memoirs.  I wanted to write about 'Oh David' and 'Don't worry Beatrice', the nice couple from Oxford who took delivery of me in March 1934.  But no... I had barely dribbled oil on to the floor of Her Ladyship's garage when she announced that we were to drive round the World! I ask you, the world?  This woman and me go round the world? Good heaven's she's completely mad.  Well, so far, so good and if I have any say in the matter we'll stay firmly glued to Pembrokeshire.

"Plug your book and Website Old Girl" she said.  "It's the only way that I can afford your engine rebuild."  Well to be honest I do need that done.  Cars that follow me do tend to keep their distance.  Apparently I 'make smoke' like a second world war destroyer.  So if you are interested to read any more, why not go to my website at www.missdaisydiaries.co.uk and find out more.

I have to say that Her ladyship completely messed up creating my facebook page and it's crashed now, so she is going to have to wait while they delete the site and she starts all over again.  But it seems that I am at Twitter.  That is @missdaisydiary.  You know who looks after that and I dread to think what she says about me.

Now perhaps I can be left in peace to get on with my memoirs.