Saturday, 12 March 2016

Let them eat cake

After a very nice lunch at the pub, I'm now sat here while Italy are getting their arse handed to them by the Irish rugby team. I'm not a rugby fan - to me it's as confusing as a convincing ladyboy - but with my belly full of pie, veg and Peroni I'm not much use for anything else.
I'm also making my way through a wonderful piece of carrot cake procured from the local garden centre, which is a veritable treasure trove of pricey-but-good food and drink.
The way I'm feeling I may even stay on the sofa for the duration of the England rugby game which is on next. A proper Saturday.

It didn't start off so good.
I'd arranged to pop over to dad's to pressure wash the green gunk off his path, so I threw my kit in the boot of the car and made my way there.
I hooked up the pressure washer and turned on the water supply, then noticed a leak. Initially I thought it was just a loose hose union, but closer inspection showed that the water was coming through the metal pump casing inside the unit.
With fingers firmly crossed I got the job done, but by the end the leak was twice as bad as it was at the start. The nasty die-cast pump housing now had a visible crack running about 40mm along it, and that crappy monkey-metal is practically impossible to repair effectively.
I'd been disappointed when my old Karcher turned up its toes after about three years service, but this Clarke thing was now fucked after little more than twelve months light use. Guess I'll buy another Karcher next time.

After a cup of tea and a chat, dad gave me hand to carry the stuff out to the car.
"Where's your car?" he asked. "It's the BMW over there" I said.
I'd deliberately not mentioned buying it because I know how he reacted whenever my brother got anything nice.
"Is this new?" he asked as I loaded the boot. "Not new, but it's new for me" I replied.
"I'm saying nothing" he said, which frankly said everything.
I mean for fuck's sake, why does he have to get arsy just because I've bought a BMW?
It's not like they're rare or anything - some years the 3 series has even outsold the Ford Mondeo - and although it's undoubtedly a great car to drive and exudes a feeling of quality, it really is no different from any other standard rep-mobile. Even the running costs are no worse than a Vauxhall Vectra, so why the hostility?

For many years BMW man was the scourge of the road, and I admit I was a little worried that I'd never be let out of a side road ever again. But clearly most road users are well aware that the arseholes have mostly migrated to Audis now, leaving BMWs blending into the background as just another car. Even so I've been a bit surprised that I haven't experienced any real negativity from other drivers.
During the time I was driving a bright yellow Fiat Seicento I was victim of so much abuse it was unbelieveable - as if the mere existence of a small yellow car was enough to bring out the very worst in anyone who saw it. Bizarre.
What the BMW does have in spades is that underlying feeling of a quality product. It's been designed and built by someone who actually gives a shit, which is more than can be said for the crappy pressure washer that I deposited into the 'small electrical appliances' skip at the recycling centre on the way home.

Now the England game is about to kick off, and this evening we'll watch 'The Martian' as I've just finished reading the book. Wonder if the film will do it justice?
I'll probably finish my bottle of Jura whiskey and the rest of that lovely carrot cake too.

The Lazy Otter - damn good pie!

UPDATE - 9:30pm:
The movie of 'The Martian' is like a hugely condensed version of the book, with an unfortunate bit of Hollywood 'artistic license' tagged on the end. Not bad though.