w.atching the w.orld unw.ind

We got back from visiting the out-laws on Saturday evening, and decided to have a glass (or seven) of wine in the garden, to wind down from the journey.

So I nipped into the garage to get a couple of garden chairs out, and there was a godawful smell of petrol.

A quick recce of the mower, and its fuel can, let them off the hook, so attention was turned to Mrs. D's pre-Cooper Metro, which stands gently rusting in the garage, waiting for the first of our kids to leave home and take her with them. Yours for the price of a new starter motor, Guv'nor.

But there was no pool of fuel fouling the floor? Running a hand underneath revealed that the poor old girl was resting in her own damp patch, like a neglected incontinent, petrol weeping, but not dripping, out.

We 'phoned the AA. Well, you don’t want the embarrassment of a 999'er, do you?

"Ffs, get the Fire brigade out. Now!" they expostulated. Well, maybe they didn't say it quite like that, but a degree of urgency was definitely recommended.

We rootled out the 'phone book, and looked up "F". Zip. No, the word "Zip" wasn’t under "F", but there was nothing. Except 999. So we 'phoned the Old Bill. He told us to stop bothering him and to 'phone the police instead. So we did, and they gave us the number to call.

"We'll send someone round" said the lovely lady at the Fire Station. "That'll take forever" I grunted. "Let’s find the corkscrew while we're waiting."

"They won’t send a whole unit, will they?" pondered Mrs.D.

"Nah, it'll be one of those anonymous little cars that they stick magnetic lamps on" I scoffed. "Cheers."

We heard the siren a few seconds before the flashing blue light show blinded us.

Eight crew hopped masculinely out of the huge red Dennis, which un-selfconsciously blocked the whole of the lane.

"Park it on yer lawn, mate" was the recommendation. "It'll soak away into the ground."

While we were doing the front garden yesterday, an anonymous white van turned up and a lad started to poke around our lawn with some weird detector.

"Have we got (another) problem?" we enquired. "Someone reported a gas leak" he replied. "Nah, it's fuel leaking from that old Metro" we explained.

"No, it's not petrol, look at these readings I'm getting from under the soil!"

I'm just wondering if the old place will still be there when I get home tonight…