Well a dull day in more ways than one. It dawned overcast and drizzly, big puddles on the tarmac. Phoebe tried one as she prefers rainwater to tap water, but I think it might have be a bit oily as she curled her lips back in disgust after one quick taste.
Still no sign of the hydraulic ramp for the scooter, so I hope it arrives soon. They say one or two days to fit it, but it should have been here by the end of last week, which would have been fine. My deadline for making Ayr on 23rd Jan for Burns Night at Burn's Cottage is drawing worryingly nearer.
Chris who did all my deliveries when I ran my antiques business had collected the scooter, which is an all terrain one, for me from down south and delivered it straight over to Signature. He said there was great hilarity when it arrived, as none of the men wanted to be the one to drive it in. They knew everyone else would be snapping away on their mobiles for teasing material. There is now a printed out poster on the workshop office wall of Chris the mechanic on my scooter next to an actress from a soap opera who always rides one, with a “spot the difference” caption. I must say I thought Chris the mechanic who drove it in wasn't smiling as fetchingly as Madge from Benidorm.
There was another visitor staying at The Bus Depot last night – a motorhome had been driven up from Bradford on Avon for its annual mot and checks but needed more work than expected so there were two of us stopping over, so he had a little look round Thebus and said it looked like a good machine.
So I am rather twiddling my thumbs today. I have caught up with the journal a bit and ordered a little lightweight vacuum as the dog hairs are beginning to get out of hand. Yet again Amazon Prime let me down and I had to pay extra just in case I am gone at the weekend, as unlikely as that feels at present.
Things brightened up in the afternoon a bit and the sun broke through. The yard here is surrounded on three sides by open countyside so I sneaked through a gap in the hedge and took Phoebe for a walk round the headlands of a wheat field just coming through and tillering nicely. There was a little coppice with a dell and knarled oaks in it – left as the dip was too uneven to plough, and with Phoebe nosing through the crisp carpet of brown oak leaves and a robin singing sweetly you could have been right out in the countryside - apart from the roar of the traffic from the motorway just a field or so away.
Where Thebus is parked at night his back window looks out over open countryside towards a stand of Scots Pine on a ridge. We do live in a beautiful a country. I am looking forward to my journey. I am told Ayrshire is lovely. I had intended to take a leisurely run with a couple of stops on the way but at this rate it may be a 300 mile dash.