We went to Clacton today. Twice. Not to go to the beach, though the queues of traffic were building during our return trip. I quite like beaches, but prefer them out of season, when there aren't many other people and might be some interesting bits of wood or other flotsam waiting to be picked up, or at least shells. I have never seen the point of lying on a beach with a lot of other people, and the Systems Administrator flatly refuses to disrobe in public.
No, we went to Clacton because that is where the Skoda garage is, and we went to the garage because a few days ago the S.A.'s Skoda ceased to be capable of going into reverse gear. As a firm believer in the utter reliability and superiority of Skodas (despite the caper that mine pulled back in the summer with the brake lights jamming on) I found this distressing. The S.A. said hopefully that it would probably be covered by the dealers' warranty, and booked it in. The woman who runs the service department, who always sounds as though she knows about cars, said that it was an unusual fault, and that it would either be very quick to fix or else require them to strip the gearbox. To be on the safe side she would book workshop time for next Monday and Tuesday.
Planning a journey in a rural area in a car that cannot under any circumstances go backwards takes more thought than you'd think, until you'd thought about it. The S.A. decreed that I should lead the way, and check that the public lane was clear of lettuce lorries, then block the entrance to the farm lane until the faulty Skoda had scuttled forward from the last place that was wide enough for two vehicles to pass. I was to turn LEFT on to the public lane, to avoid us using the traffic lights with the dodgy sequencing that leaves cars trying to turn right across the main road stranded when the lights on the main road go back to green (I grumbled about this to the neighbours at the Bank Holiday drinks and was assured that it was a well-known local issue that had been reported. Many times).
This plan worked well until we got to the main road, where I should have turned right if I wanted to go to Clacton, but remembered that I had to turn LEFT. The S.A. internally debated whether to follow me, or just go to the garage and assume I'd turn up eventually, opted to keep me in sight, and we both did a quick loop through the yard of the local pet emporium (formerly a farm shop). Then we went to the garage, and then we went to the Clacton branch of Tesco to spend some more of the enormous collection of pet food vouchers that we got in the last double-your-vouchers offer. I presume that Tesco's marketing department hope we will be tempted to use the extra vouchers buying things we wouldn't otherwise get, but our philosophy has always been to think of something you have to buy anyway, that keeps for a long time, and buy lots of it.
Then we went home, and found a message on the answerphone saying that the car was ready, as it turned out to be a quick adjust-some-linkages problem, and not a strip-the-geabox-we'll-have-to-order-the-parts fault. We went back to Clacton. Then I thought I might as well go on to Tesco and fill up with petrol, and turned LEFT at the roundabout instead of right, and found myself at Morrisons instead of Tesco, which was no use because I had a Tesco 5p off petrol voucher. Then I thought I might as well go home via the garden centre and buy the tree stakes I forgot on Tuesday, to try and make the whole expedition seem more worthwhile. When I try to work out where my time goes, it is easy to forget how much time you spend in life just faffing about.
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