panic

I panic bought some petrol today.  I was not actually in a panic, it was more of a planned journey to a garage where I filled up.  As I listened to R4 over breakfast I began to think that I only had a quarter of a tank left, after three round trips to work and driving to my monthly Pilates lesson.  I don't have a contingency plan for getting to work if I can't drive, since it's 11 miles and there's no way I'm going to walk there, do an eight hour day in the plant centre and walk back.  Alternatively I could walk a mile and a half to a bus stop, get a bus to Colchester, then a train to Manningtree, then walk two miles from Manningtree station, but I'm not going to do that either.  This is why people who live in rural areas need cars.  Making sure I had enough petrol to see me through essential journeys for the next month began to seem like a good idea from a personal point of view, and yes, I know that isn't necessarily the best thing for society as a whole, but that's how games theory works.  When the Systems Administrator got back from going to Tesco in the Skoda and went straight out again in the Jag I thought I was right, and when the SA got back I asked Did you go for petrol and what are the queues like?  The answer was that there were queues at the Clacton Tesco, which was starting to run out, some queues at the garage on the roundabout on the Weeley by-pass, and none at all at the little Shell garage on the way to Weeley.  So I went to the little Shell garage, and there was only one other car on the forecourt.  Later on I heard the politicians telling us that there was no need to queue, so you can tell that they don't live in Colchester, where there are queues half the time at the Tesco garage anyway.

(The Jag sounds grander than it is.  It is one of the last vestiges of the City days, a remnant of empire, with a couple of dents, and one of these years something will go seriously wrong with it that is too expensive to fix, or the SA will decide that insurance and servicing are no longer affordable.  In the meantime while it lasts it is nice for long journeys.  Today's tank of petrol means that in the event of a tanker drivers' strike we will still be able to make a long-planned visit to relatives on Easter Sunday).

I would be more impressed by the fire brigade's warnings about the dangers of storing petrol at home if it were the culmination of a long campaign against the perils of domestic uses of petrol.  Lots and lots of people have petrol driven lawnmowers, lawn tractors, chain saws and strimmers, and they keep a can or two of petrol in their shed.  We do, and the FBU has never previously expressed any concern on the subject, which makes me think their current righteous indignation at Francis Maude's advice has a whiff of politics about it.  Use a proper petrol can and not a lemonade bottle, obviously, and don't leave it in the sun, or smoke while you're handling it.

The Systems Administrator put up the scaffolding again, ready for the final decorating push on the back of the house, which is the most difficult part to reach.  I don't suppose the FBU would approve of the SA being up there either, if they got round to thinking about it.