Don’t look now………………

It’s the start of a Bank Holiday Weekend and they were all out to kill us.
We ventured into one of the larger towns this morning as Hubby had seen a stud fastening kit on the internet that may solve (or at least reduce) the inflow of rainwater through our bow covers.
Our front fix has improved things considerably, but we have a constant trickle (ok drip) above the bow door where the covers have stretched and although water doesn’t actually come into the boat, it’s damned annoying and panics us when we see it out of the corner of our eye!

It would appear that since we’ve been away (all of 42 river miles, 84 for the return trip), Rules of the Road have been replaced by Rules of Engagement,
AND NOBODY TOLD US.

We are already aware that one particular car park on a retail estate has Give Way lines and Stop Signs immediately as you turn into it, rather than at junctions where two, three or even four directions meet.
As you come off a major roundabout which is controlled by traffic lights, there are pedestrian crossings, also controlled by lights, that stop the flow causing tailbacks across the lanes, thus you cannot get off, or on, the roundabout until everyone has crossed over (these are on EVERY exit).  Kids love to play with the buttons, don’t they.
Subways have not been invented here, unless you want a sandwich.

However, Red traffic lights now mean ‘Go’ if there are no pedestrian crossings apparent.
Today we moved off on green yet some idiot granny cut across us, then blocked the entry for someone coming the other way who wanted to turn right. She then turned left without signals, again across a red light. Of course we knew she was going to do that, she probably does it at the same time every day as she heads to the W supermarket either for coffee or to buy a posh carrier bag to put her cheap shopping in.


Side street exiters now have right of way as they whizz out in front of you without slowing down, causing you to brake hard sending the poor dog flying, or your grocery shopping whistling past your ears.

When we reached our destination, we discovered we should have read the small print on the internet as the kit we wanted was a special order and would take 7 days to arrive.
Ho hum. Back into the melee and round two of Hit Me If You Can.
We managed to get a kit from a craft shop of all places, and now just need some dry weather for more than two hours before we pin and snap.

We did our shopping on the way home, £23.88 for the week, including survival revival goodies of chocolate which we felt were well deserved to calm our frazzled nerves.

As an aside triggered by posh carrier bags for cheap contents.
Image for some is everything.
We stopped for breakfast, our usual bacon roll and latte coffee for £2. Our preferred outlet is sandwiched (pun intended) between Costa and Subway on the retail complex with the iffy car park.
Costa apparently is THE COFFEE to have to impress onlookers (read pull a guy).
Cue two blonde ladies in a New White Merc sports car (hint, not exactly girls).
Both were dressed to the nines in white trouser suits, heavily made up, and posing nicely, ie flicking of hair, twisting of bodies, grinning inanely smiling engagingly.
One returns to the car with a swing of the hips carrying a Costa Coffee in each hand (no ugly cardboard carrier for this Babe, no-sir-ee).
Passenger sits up, takes coffee from her friend, and promptly drops the cup in her lap.
Moral of this story:
Better to waste £1 on a coffee than £2.50.
Incidentally, both shops use the same make of coffee machine.

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