Entry for June 19, 2007

Mrs B had a puncture today. I should re-phrase that - her car had a puncture - not her. In her heavily pregnant state, I think she might have been more difficult to jack up than the Astra. I'm not sure that KwikFit would have exchanged her for a retread either.
Of course, punctures never, ever happen at a convenient time. They never happen on a lazy Sunday when the sun is splitting the heavens. Rather, like this morning, they happen on the rainiest morning of the Summer, on a day when you were wanting to get to work to make an early start because you knew it was going to be hectic. I'm sure that there is some Malevolent Tyre Sprite, who lurks at the side of suburban roads, ready to cause puncture-related mayhem.
The last puncture I had was the night the Small Bald Person was born - after midnight, me with no sleep for 48 hours in an abandoned car park. The Malevolent Tyre Sprite outdid himself that night - my mobile phone battery ran out (through excited calls to relatives) and the tyre iron turned out to be stripped.
It was still the best night of my life though.