Sunday, November 04, 2007

Mrs E's chest...an affair for smooth roads?


Right I have to tell you about your money...or in this case where your money go! I can tell you now...if you live in Wales it goes on smooth asphalt and In England they charge you twice as much and you get the lumpy bits...
Last week we sold Mrs E’s hand built Pug 306 convertible leaving us only with Esther…our Renault 5, 1986, 1.4L Automatic, with a sunroof.

What you notice when you drive an old bird like Esther is the state of the roads and I must say I am surprised at the state of the road in the Greatest Britain. Two days ago we took the old lady for spin, 400 miles (650km) leaving our comfy garage, where she had an oil change, some Autoglym, a bit of antifreeze and a bit of TLC. We set off to view the village of Portmeirion, famous for its architecture and of course for being the exterior location to The Prisoner television series starring Patrick McGoohan.

To get there we had to cross a few counties in the Greatest England to get to the Greatest Wales and it was when we crossed the border into Wales entering Powys, we started to notice the difference…Mrs E doesn’t like Esther to much cause it makes her boobies jump about a bit, and she says that in her age wearing a sports bra is only stupid…me I have no problem I just have a problem with staring at the road instead of averting my eyes over to Mrs E’s chest bobbing about like two buoy’s in the sea…however in Wales it all stopped…no bobbing or distraction, the road surface was smooth like a baby’s bottom...just an expression…

We drove for hours through Snowdonia National Park and mile after mile the surface was awesome…I never believed I would say this, but not since I drove from Stockholm back to Helsingborg in Sweden or that time before I was married, a girl called Camilla have I ever seen something so smooth…it was like driving on silk, the rubber, cheap ones from Kwik Fit, did not even make a noise anymore. We were not alone there were trucks, the size of lorries driving on the road, locals in very fast 4x4’s wanting to get to their local and not wanting to be the obvious nerd in a classic car I stepped on it…so all Esther’s horse powers had to do their duty…but no bump, no bobbing of Mrs E’s chest just bliss…

We continued in silence, mostly because the BBC has not built out their radio network in Snowdonia National Park, so not by choice, did we have to wait to hear what Jeremy Vine had to say…we caught up with him between moments of classical FM, how come they always get a signal…and spouts of Welsh Radio, which sound like a bunch of Swedes on a midsummer eve’s drunken night out…so smooth….no noise…WHY???

I feel that we have been cheated in the Greatest England…we pay the same road tax…drive the same cars, pay the same for the fuel and they…the Welsh, have smooth roads…not a pot hole every two yards, leaking water pipe, or yellow signs and cones which say “Work will start here in 2008 and will last for 11 years!” Why is that?

Is it because they actually spend their money on the roads. We know that they like a drink in Wales, and a song, which explains the silence of the radio network and it would also explain why there is not a road which is straight, but I don’t care about that. What I care about is smoothness…the ability to take my 1986 Renault 5 and drive it until it hits 60Mph (100km) and feel the road, not sit in the car with two “Nodding Dogs”…

Driving back from Wales exiting again at Powys, we entered England and I tell you not…within 5 minutes of driving we were jumping about in the car like to “doggers at a lay bay“ in Bristol, worried we might get arrested and thrown into jail…and all because they sell lumpy asphalt in England and Mrs E’s chest is distracting my driving…

What is that all about!

Labels: , , , , ,

Friday, November 17, 2006

Organic...Yeah right...


First of all I have to apologise to all my friends and family out there who has been emailing me over the last couple of weeks telling me to update my blog…

Honestly I am sorry and secondly if you came and did my DIY for me there would be more time to do my blog…

Mr Nilsson came over to visit with his son and we went to the Jeremy Clarkson and BBC Top Gear sponsored MPH and the Classic Car show at the NEC in Birmingham. This is where the problems started. You see Mr Nilsson is a Peugeot expert and since he persuaded me to buy a hand built Pug 306 Convertible designed by Penafirini for Mrs E he was in charge, and when he decided to look at it and see that it would go through the MOT he found out that it would not. He found that a common error with these cars was a small hole on the exhaust, so being the expert he took out my welding kit. Now I know that most of you would be thinking cheapskate and busman’s holiday…but this was not the case…he loved working on the car whilst his son loved the ride on mower…trust me I am Swedish…what is wrong with that? I am now looking for friends who are plumbers and carpenters…

So whilst all this is going on Mrs E wants me to re-decorate the hall and the dining room…my time in front of the computer has now been drastically reduced to a night time event…

However I did have the time to read the papers and watch the news, between who wants to be a super model and I’m a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here…and eggs come to my mind…

We all remember when Mr Major was shagging Mrs C had a spout with the press that the eggs were contaminated and we ended up with “not going to work on an Egg”…What I find hilarious around this time…not that Edwina had anything to with it…is the fact that it was a scam on ORGANIC eggs…

What can I say…having lived and grown up with vegetables and food stuff which came a few miles from where I was born there was never a question of what you where eating. So why complain now when my eggs are not from my farmer but from a a guy called Pedro in Barcelona? Now some of my friends are insisting that they rather pay twice the price for and egg or chick knowing that the blighter had a good life…and then you killed it??

When I walk the isle at the supermarket I look at the prices and if a cheap anaemic chick, no not a model, the feathered one, looks at me I wont shop…no different from a bar. Does any guys out there know of a man…now remember a said a MAN…who likes and fancies an anaemic bird…who is organic…and does only eat fish…which is not farmed…

I am sorry to be the one to advise to the world that when it says I AM ORGANIC…Don’t believe it…someone wrote it and put it there….it is called marketing.

Labels: , , ,