Pants Friday,and modern tosh

Pants Friday started with a 07.00am phone call from my Wife explaining the  BMW had broken down on the M5 -lost all power, "missfiring like bugery"
RAC dispatched she was recovered to a Tescos car park just off Junction  20 ,where I met here (once  I had dropped the kids at school,nursery etc ) she took the Landy and carried  on to London for her meeting, leaving me with a car more complex than an apollo mission and looking out for the local recovery truck,it turned up in due course - I had a feeling it might bean interesting next few hours when the 20 stone plus driver jumped out of his cab sweating and exclaiming his pants had just split, he conceded  he best keep his high viz jacket on to prevent  the blue badge holders seeing his bollocks whilst winching the beamer onto the flat bed-suddenly I didn't fancy sharing a cab with him and his unbound testicles for the 20 mile or so trip back

To block out mental pictures of chaffed orbs, I phoned ahead to the garage that had sorted out the Land Rover tire repair-I knew they had "modern tosh" diagnostic stuff and arranged for them to try and find the fault ,on alighting the truck the air was once again  filled  with the sound of cheap nylon mix being stretched beyond its design limits and an exclamations of how "chilly it was in the  quantock region today" , followed up by further exclamations of "bastard and bollocks" when the driver tried to operated the sliding flat bed-the hydraulics had packed up on the "recovery" truck- hydraulic power pack was then given a mandatory  3 count with a lump hammer to "see if it was sticking" fearing the ever extending arc of the lump hammers back swing coming into contact with the car, I suggested reversing the stricken flat bad up to the inspection ramps in the garage, and pushing  the car off onto them,.after a bit of sweaty truck reversing all was in position and the car was finally off the flat bed without anymore undue exposure to sweaty testicles and wild lump hammers

 Relieved  I left the car with the garage instructing them I was in no rush for it back as ironically we were picking up an Audi A3 that evening that was going to serve as a more suitable runaround than a borrowed BMW 5 series.

Following on from the above it was full week of Daddy duty- including the dreaded after school  "Bloody Ballet" ,once the "Little Dancing Princess" had been dropped off at the pink tutu infested "School of Dance" the boys and I had 45 valuable minutes to waste -rather than sit in the "Parents" room of the dance school (avoiding eye contact with the "Range Rover Sport" brigade of mothers) we headed to our normal haunt of Tescos, the mad 3 year old now associates "Ballet" with "Donuts" when I confirmed to him we could have "donuts for pudding" he broke free of my grip and sprinted through the entrance of the supermarket heading for the preset (in his head) destination of the bakery aisle, punching the air with delight and shouting "Donuts" at the top of his voice - slacked jawed trolley mafia looked on in bemusement at such an open expression of simple happiness-meanwhile the 8 year old nonchalantly looked on and commented "I used to be like that about donuts but I am so over them now"

House bashing has been slow this week due to the full schedule of duties including after school gymnastics,chess club and a parent evening for the 5 year old.
I also had an interview for a paying job- god knows how we will work that one in if I get offered it?

I tried contacting the Cumbrian Shed Monkey for an update on the Rover P6,after leaving a voice message I received this text-
"Sorry mate currently at Scouts doing fucking map reading on Irton Pike"
 - think I prefer "Bloody Ballet" than spending a dark cold damp evening up a Cumbrian mountain trying to map read with the little sods.

I will have more proper interesting shed activity to report on next week.