Cat Kicker

If I was the cat-kicking type, my cat would still be flying north with my shoe wedged up her arse!

After a little windfall in the form of a tax refund from that nice man at the Inland Revenue my car decided to play up again.

The engine is misfiring and it's used a litre of oil in three days.  There is no obvious leek to be found.  The best case scenario is that they have to replace the piston scraper, which won't be as expensive as the worst case scenario, which would be an engine re-build.

When they told me this there was a pursing lips, an intake of breath, a glance at the floor and a long drawn out  "Ooooooooooooooooooo!" before the mentioned that that would cost about £1500.

As I walked home from the workshop images of the guy behind the service desk rubbing his hands as he already counted the money I was going to have to cough up.

It never rains, but it pours!  I want to scream, kick something and wring someone's neck, all of which won't help, but will, just for a  moment, take my mind off my car problems and the impending damage to me already weak financial affairs.

The trouble is that without a car, I can't get from A to B in order to do my job.  A company car is out of the question because I don't even know if we still have one.  Asking  my clients to come to me is out of the question.

I know one solution to my problem, but it's a solution millions of others are hoping for too, so I'll not put too much hope in a big win on the lotto.

You know, it doesn't matter what I write about, I always try and inject a little humour into it.  Today, however, as I re-read the above, I couldn't detect anything funny or even mildly amusing.  I'm sure I tried, but I don't think it worked.

Oh God!  I'm sooooooooooooooooooo fed up!