34
The reason I ask is that I found myself this lunchtime walking (nay, skipping) to the local petrol station on my lonesome, just as Alan did back in the late 90s. Sadly, I wasn’t walking along the A11 at Linton, but through the desolation of a Hull Industrial Estate, simply added to the feeling of total isolation.
Ahhh-haaaa!
Upon my arrival at the petrol station I realised I didn’t have any cash on me and would have to pay by card. I also realised I hadn’t really gone there for any purpose other than to give myself something to do and break up the monotony of a humdrum working day. There was actually a cash machine at this petrol station, but it was one of those annoying ones where you have to pay a fee to use it. I’m certainly not one to pay £1.25 unnecessarily! So instead of purchasing just a KitKat, I found myself, arms full of crisps, other chocolate, a bottle of Ribena and, finally, a bottle of windscreen washer fluid.
“Stocking up?” said the friendly attendant as I casually dropped the items from my arms onto the counter.
It took me a few moments to register what he meant. Did he mean I was stocking up on food? Was there a nuclear holocaust about to happen that I simply hadn’t heard about on the news? Then it struck me…he meant the windscreen washer fluid!
“Aha!” I said, ironically. “Yes, I am.” Still not fully with it. “Are you thinking the weather’s going to get worse?” he asked. Well, I’m no Michael Fish (nor a Tomas Schaffenaker to be honest) and this question threw me for a second time.
“Erm, yes.” I said. Then, upon reflection, suddenly thought “No, that’s stupid. I’ve heard nothing to suggest that. Why on earth did I say it?
“Well, it’s not bad at the moment is it?” Well saved Chardy. “But it’s always handy to have. Ah-ha-ha!” Bravo.
“Well I’m hoping for it because I overstocked.” chuckled the attendant.
Again, I didn’t quite understand this meaning. I was imagining he had bottle upon bottle of the stuff in his garage at home. It was only once I’d left the place that I realise he meant he’d overstocked the petrol station. No wonder he looked so pleased I had bought some. Little did he know that my Skoda actually guzzles windscreen washer fluid like there’s no tomorrow. Mainly due to the fact that every time I spray the windscreen, the headlights also get sprayed in a 2-for-1 type deal.
So as I walked back, marvelling that I was actually walking along the line of an ancient drainage ditch, I did ponder whether I was turning into Partridge. I think the answer is “No, not yet”. However, if I ever find myself buying some tungsten tip screws, and driving aimlessly round a ring road, my verdict may have to be reassessed.
