Firstly, let me start by apologising for last week's sandstorm. Those of you south of Watford Gap may have noticed half-inch of orange dust on just about everything in sight. Well, that was my fault. You see, I took the pleasure of basking in the first sunny shows of spring and washed my van. I washed it with love, care and attention as if I was bathing a newborn squirrel. Gently but with due caution in case bits fell off. I went a step further than I would with a newborn squirrel and got the wax out for a well needed polish.
As I ate dinner, door open, bacon and eggs scents mingling with the musky odour of stale hot lay-by piss and exhaust fumes, I noticed the sky had turned a strange, eery, alien colour. "Oh, how pretty," I thought. I may have said it out loud, to be honest, can't (or unwilling to) remember. It was then that I saw huge rain drops explode on the floor outside the sliding door. "Sodding typical. Well at least the wax will help the rain to bead off of the paintwork." I slid the door shut, closed the curtains and laid on my bed listening to the ratatatatatat of the rain bounce off of the roof, a few inches above my head.
After an evening of relentless farting, tv watching and utter boredom I eventually fell asleep. When morning came round, the sun was out again. The van was already warming up and I couldn't help but smile as I was saving a few quids by not having to fire up the diesel heater. I dawdled about for a bit (code for dropping the kids off at the pool [also code for having a poo]) and then pulled back the curtains to be met with what I can only describe as an entire beach, resin bonded to the windows.
Bloody typical. but what was more typical was that I had let the morning's sun evaporate any moisture from the sand laden rain that had made its way across the world from the Sahara Desert, to unleash its grit like hell upon my van. It was baked on so hard it was as if it left the factory like it! Imagine speccing that: "And would sir like to add our 'unique to Ford' desert spec realistic sand finish to the paintwork?" Even worse was the sudden realisation that my solar panels would also be caked in the desert dust...
Life has become a bit brighter lately since the sun has started to shine. My solar panels (when not hiding under 14 inches of the Sahara) have been utilising the sun's energy to the max and the big yellow blob in the sky has also started to refuel my soul. It's a marvellous feeling, reverberated by the negated need to keep running my van engine to charge the leisure batteries. Especially now that diesel is about 16 thousand quid monies to fill the tank!
I'm still lay-by surfing at the moment as my need for a reliable data connection far outweighs the need for a beautiful view. You see, and probably have seen, I have been busy creating some beautiful journals and getting them published on Amazon. Successfully too, I may add! I have also revamped my website and Facebook page/group with designs by yours truly. This is all to establish my standing on Amazon as an author, ready for when the long-overdue book is to be released. I have almost finished designing the cover though so that's a major task well underway! Publishing the journals first has given me a good insight into how Amazon publishing works, what sort of royalties I could expect to receive and how long it takes to go live on Amazon.
So, unfortunately, I have no tales of woe to tell nor stories of self-destruction so I'm afraid y'all have to hang tight for now! Oh, I did fall out of my van the other day and hurt myself quite badly by somehow kicking myself in the gentleman's vegetables and I also managed to knee myself in the face at the same time! And on a separate occasion, I went to the quacks who did a blood test for my weird shoulder and it turns out I have a good ole dose of arthritis going on. The joys of life, eh? And I trod in human poo the other morning. Worst bit is, it wasn't there the day before, so someone curled one out whilst I was sleeping! I actually had my sliders on which was lucky as they went straight into the lay-by bin. I have a weak stomach for standing in human poo or any poo for that matter, so I'd have cried even more if I had had my good boots on! They were definitely a Guinness drinker, in case you were wondering.
One last thing, my van passed its MOT last week, but only after many of the Queen's finest pound notes were spent on it. New front pads, new lower wishbones both sides, yet another oil and filter change, and a few other bits. The next day I smashed into the world's deepest pothole and I now am in desperate need of a steering knuckle and possibly wheel bearing!
Anyway, I shall leave you with this: Please do not shake your rug before 8am. According to section 60, subsection three of the Metropolitan Police Act 1854, it is an offence to beat or shake any carpet, rug, or mat before eight in the morning.
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