Petrol Station Rage - AGAIN!!!

Today didn’t start off great. I was stressed about how stressed DD (my horse) was and worried about the little donkey escaping and as I drove to work in the golf, as my Discovery was off sick, with no radio to keep mind  off stuff I felt quite down.

On arriving at work I discovered both Rich and I had forgotten our laptops so off I went home again to pick them up. I’d only got as far as the roundabout when I realised I was seriously out of fuel. Why hadn’t Rich noticed this when he drove us to work???? I was feeling very irritated by this stage and as I pulled into the fuel station a car pulled in just in front of me. Great now I’d have to wait for him to fill up. The driver,  all 50 stone of him (OK, slightly exagerating, maybe 22 stone) got out of his gold Audi. He was wearing a pink jumper, now don’t get me wrong I’m no slim Jim but a 50 odd stone man really should not be wearing pink! Its just so not right! I just knew he was going to wind me up. He made his way towards the pump, stopping to give one of his passengers some money then he waited, yes, bloody waited a full 5 minutes for the attendant to arrive put his fuel in. Why oh why could he not put his own fuel in? It aint rocket science!!!! My car started spluttering away, obviously using the last few drops of fumes and I sat there planning my next move. I knew if my car ran out of fuel,it would never start again so I started playing out the scenarios in my mind. Maybe I could ask the attendant to push me out of the way whilst I made an SOS call to Rich, who incidentally is never too pleased about me breaking down or maybe I should call him now in anticipation. If only Mr Pink Fucking jumper could have just put his own bloody fuel in and I could put mine in things would be OK. The attendant eventually comes and puts in his fuel, a full tank, obviously, whilst he stands there and watches, then when shes finished, he has a little conversation with another of his passengers before going into the shop to pay by bloody credit card. By now I’m revving, anger pulsing through my veins, that will show him what a dick he's being!!!! So he gets back to his car, adjusts his radio, plays with his mirrors, puts his seat belt on, brushes his hair & lights a fag before eventually driving off. I did make it to the pump without running out of fuel and managed to put my own fuel in, pay the attendant and drive off, whilst putting my seat belt on like any normal person should!!!!

The Worst Day of My Life by Granadino (DD) aged 28 & 3/4

It all started off like a normal Sunday. The human was late feeding us and Lolly and I got a bit irritated. Lolly started throwing the water butt around but she’s like that, impatient. The water got refilled and we got our hay  and a bit of cereal then had a little plod around our paddock before standing head to tail and gently grooming each other, all quite normal.

 It was early afternoon that things went a bit strange. The human came in armed with head collars. This meant one of two things, either we were going out on a ride or moving house again (which we did quite regularly). Lolly was approached first and carefully avoided the human, doing a few laps of the paddock and attempting to jump down a wall which TBH was a fail as she misjudged it and stumbled, mainly due to the muddy terrain. The human gave up with Lolly and took me unaware and I was lured into the headcollar. It was all a bit sneaky really. She draped the rope around my neck whilst I was eating my hay and once I was secured that was it, the head collar was on before I knew it. Lolly couldn’t believe I’d been duped so easily so decided she may as well give in and be caught too. On the plus side there was no sign of any saddlery so perhaps we were just going out for a walk to eat some nice lush grass. Lolly had a damn good brush by the human, which she loved. Apparently girls love getting their hair done.

Let me explain about Lolly. Her real name is Lorelai but the man human couldn't say it so called her Lolly. We’d been together for three years and it was love at first sight. I was the main man in my herd at the time and she was always my favorite girl, I really fell for her, despite the age gap, I am 28 & 3/4 and have been for around 4 years, although my passport says I'm 23 and Lolly is 6. I taught Lolly so much, like not to be scared on cars. She hated cars when we first met. I taught her how to stand still when being brushed, as it was actually quite pleasurable. I taught her to tolerate the humans riding us as it meant at least we saw new, exciting things. I taught her that dogs & goats were OK but not to let them get too close. I taught her it was OK to go into a horsebox or was that her teaching me that? I can’t remember. I taught her that I was the boss and I always ate first and chose which pile of hay or bucket of food I wanted but most of all I taught her how to love. We really did love each other. I just didn’t realise how much.

After Lolly got brushed it started to rain and bizarrely the human came out and clips ropes to us, promising new adventure. I gladly led the way up the track, stopping off for the odd munch of grass, yummy. We stopped at the end of the track and had quite a picnic. Despite the rain I was really quite enjoying myself. Suddenly a big horsebox pulled up, really posh it was. So that’s what was happening, we were moving AGAIN. Never mind I was up for a new adventure as long as Lolly was by my side.

The back of the horsebox opened and there stood the tiniest little donkey I’d ever seen. I had a feeling we’d actually met before but Lolly wasn’t so sure. Although I’d taught her not to be scared of lorries or even tractors, I obviously missed the lesson on donkeys. My god, she freaked!!! Anybody would have thought it was a monster standing there!!! She spun the human around a good many times, it would have been nice to see her fall or at least get trodden on but nope she stayed up right. The little donkey just stood there,staring at us, I wasn’t that interested TBH, there was too much of a buffet going on for me. Lolly went to investigate and the next time I looked up she was walking up the ramp of the horsebox. I would make sure I wouldn’t do it that easily for them when my turn came. Suddenly the door shut and the lorry started to move! ‘No wait for me’ I shouted. ‘FFS I’ll go inside, just come back’.

I was being led back toward my paddock. My darling Lolly was driving off in the distance. I called and called but to no avail. I found myself getting quite angry and showed the stupid human just how cross I was by doing a  few rather large fly bucks, narrowly missing her head. To make matters worse that bloody donkey was following me, albeit slowly.

We got back to the paddock and I was released with the donkey. Seeing my mood, it ever so quietly tried to do a runner but the human busted it .He said he didn’t want to live with an old grump and quite honestly I didn't want to live with an ass!!! I wanted Lolly. The human tried to console me with some more hay and even some oates which made me even more mad, so I galloped as fast as I could past my human and bucked right near her face! That would show her! What a bitch for  In fact I’m still stood by the gate calling out every so often in the hope she will hear me. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep and that bloody donkey follows me around like I’m his parent. My life is in tatters. Will I ever get over this????

Yours Sadly

Granadino

24th November

Well its been a strange day so far. I was all happy this morning apart from a touch of wine flu. As I drove off down our track a farmer was fannying around at the end of our track & buggered things up a bit. I'd just opened a can of drink, put it in the drink holder and was looking forward to sipping it all the way to Alcalali, where I was heading to pick up some hay. Anyway due to the the farmer fannying around, I hit  rocky bit, coming out of our track, which was a bit steep and perhaps I accelerated a bit hard and my drink toppled over, all over my feet and new suede shoes and got wedged under the accelerator!

Next was a stop at the bins. I hate doing the bins! At the first bin, I tottered out in the suede high heels, opened the bin which seemed unusually heavy only to find it was full so I got back in and repeated the exercise twice more until I hit jackpot and found an empty one but the bin men came whilst I was mid emptying and I got bin emptying fright, dropped a bag on the floor, scattering it contents all over! I then had to scramble around, red faced with the bin men to retrieve it and it seemed every time I made a move one of the bin men would make the same moved and we would nearly collide, it was like some weird dance. Mortifying!!!

I continued my journey and managed to encounter more than my fair share of pesky cyclists. I nearly got one when I was changing the CD but sadly missed.

Then the bloody fuel light came on. No problem. I stopped at the garage where the person in front of me couldn't decide which pump was going to finish first so kind of hovered between them which meant I was also hovering with my arse stuck out on the road, I didn't get hit though but did get beeped at which was a bit stressful. It eventually chose one and I got stuck behind some retard who was filling up 4 bloody barrels in the back of his Mondeo. As I was waiting, feeling ver irritated, some woman in a black 4 x 4 drove by staring at me like I was some loony. Now normally I would have ignored her or maybe stuck my fingers up at her or maybe even give her an eye roll but no, I stuck my tongue out at her!FFS!!!! Why did I have to do that??? Thought she was going to get out and punch me! It did amuse the petrol attendant woman (not the lesbian looking one) who was pissing herself laughing, so much so that she couldn't find my petrol cap (turns out I didn't have one).

By now I was feeling a bit agitated and TBH if somebody had offered me a wine or Valium, I would have gladly taken it.

Things got a bit better when I reached the horse food shop. I managed to negotiate a deal, swapping one of my horses for a baby donkey, as you do. Although it was a worry how I would tell Rich, who was actually OK about it.

To top off my unusual morning, my car did the customary breakdown but that's my own fault for telling Matt, yesterday, that it was running fine and he could borrow it.

Never mind, off out to lunch soon with Daddio and having the last dress fitting.

TAXIS in Spain

I guess when you live in the UK getting a Taxi is just a matter of picking up the phone and dialing one up. I'm guessing there are lots to choose from, too. I'm only guessing as I haven't lived in the UK for 16 years but when I left, it was very easy to get a Taxi, absolutely anywhere. The only time a Taxi was a bit tricky to locate was after a nightclub finished and maybe New Years eve. I can actually remember having a really shit New Years Eve when I was 19, I expect I'd been dumped, I can't quite remember and failed to pull that night, probably because I would have had a face like a smacked arse that night! Then it took 2 hours standing in the freezing cold, with little flakes of snow, blowing in the icy wind, in my little white leather skirt with matching white leather jacket and I expect white stilettos and a bad, orange fake tan waiting for a sodding taxi, which cost 3 times the normal rate.

In Spain, getting a Taxi is a whole different ball game. Take the airport. There are loads of Taxis at the airport, getting a taxi there is no problem, that is unless you want to go further than Benidorm. If you do then you have to get a taxi to Benidorm then try and persuade a Benidorm taxi to take you on the remaining part of your journey, this may take some negotiating, as they are a bit reluctant to go our of their zone, maybe because of zone restrictions or maybe because of fear of not being paid, I'm not sure. I dread to think what the cost would be but the private (illegal) taxis cost around €130 one way so I'm thinking the taxis would be more.

So, local taxis!!! What local taxis???? Apparently most towns have one, yes one, but in my experience they don't like to go out after 9.00pm and as you may imagine, they get booked up. I found out the reason why we don't have taxis in our villages, the other day and its not the obvious, that everywhere is so remote and impossible to find, its because each town hall issues taxi licenses but only a few and at a cost of €80,000, yes!!!! €80,000!!! Then the taxi drivers have to give the town hall 42% of their earnings!!! Thats after buying their vehicle!

So, if you are visiting us in Spain don't rely on taxi's! You can hire a car from €42 a week. Its a no brainer. OK, it may seem daunting as you are driving on the other side of the road but there's hardly any traffic and even I can do it! Believe me when I tell you that you WILL need a car. All our villages and towns are very spread out and although there are buses, they may only run twice a day lol.

Wheel chairs and shopping

I’d never really had to think about what it must be like to be unable to walk, apart from the twice I broke my foot! The first time was the worst, as it was a bigger injury and I spent weeks wheeling myself around on a black, imitation leather, office chair to do everything I normally do in the house, you know like sweeping the floors, cooking, washing up etc and if I was lucky I’d get wheeled outside for a change of scenery but that was always a major task due to the rough terrain of the rickety flagstone path and gravel, it always presented an element of risk. The second time I just put up with the pain and walked the best I could with a cast, moulded to my foot.

Daddio has been in bed for around two weeks with a severe bout of gout and is, as expected nearly tearing his hair out. Every time I go around he was shrieking in pain as little Nelson (chi) launches himself at his foot, like he thinks it may be helpful. Mummio has decided to take to her sick bed as well, I joke that it’s probably due to the stress of actually having to participate in real life, like going to the chemist (which she managed fine), cooking (jury is out), putting fuel in her car (first time in 50 years), that could have been a disaster though as she went to a manned petrol station and asked for €20 of fuel. She was pretty lucky she actually ended up with petrol rather than diesel as she wouldn’t have been able to call for help as I suspect the mobile phone she has carried around for years, unable to turn on, would have been flat and she would never have been actually able to remember the code anyway. She did manage a little bit of shopping but could only manage to purchase bread, milk and cheese as she only went out with €10 and didn’t know how to use her credit card. Seriously though we're all very proud of the way she has embraced the tasks that she has never had to contend with before and she's had to do them whilst feeling poorly.

   Anyway I received the phone call from Daddio this week, requesting that I take him shopping. Panic raced through my veins! How the hell would I manage to maneuver a 20  odd stone man into and out of a car, into a wheel chair and then push a trolley whilst supervising the wheel chair???? Why couldn’t he just give me a list????

Daddio somehow managed to put his own wheel chair, which refused to collapse, into his car and we met up after I  had dropped off a customers car, and proceeded to Lidl. Now, I’m not the best person at shopping, as I suffer the most dreadful trolley rage. The old people & some young, who have all the time in the world, dither in the isles, debating the pros and cons of Heinz baked beans or for 2 cent cheaper Branstons or whatever. Then they block the isles whilst looking at the bargain basement isle so you can’t move! They really should invent a one way system, you know like in Ikea, although in Ikea, it always reminds me of going to see father Christmas, following the arrows, but you never get to father Christmas and get the present at the end, which is always  big disappointment. There needs to be better organisation in the supermarkets. If I was in charge of supermarkets, not only would they have a one way system with give way signs at the end of every isle, it would be more organised at the checkouts. I’m fantastic at check outs. My groceries are on the conveyor belt promptly, thrown on haphazardly, admittedly, as my worst nightmare would be the groceries going through before I’d unloaded the trolley and it has happened a few times when you get a bloody Speedy Gonzles throwing the items through, faster than you can put them on, until you get a pile up on the other side, forget your plastic carrier bags and have to throw it in your trolley before opening your purse, which I normally do after unloading onto the conveyor belt and I get the right money out as I add it up whilst I’m going around. It’s a very old habit, dating back to the days when I was on a very strict budget of €50 a week, for a big shop. Then its sods law that you drop your purse and have to scramble about on the floor, chasing your coins, red faced and flustered whilst the people behind you are tutting, loudly.

So, we arrive at Lidl, the busiest branch in the Costa Blanca. I manage to unload the wheelchair without scratching the paint work on Daddio’s car. We manged to seat Daddio, after a few attempts and then I have to push…….. Now I’m no light weight but it was a struggle to push him, so he resulted in moving his own wheels, which incidentally he was quite good at. As I got the trolley, he’d gained quite a few yards on me and wheelchair 131 ( must have been a hospital wheel chair at some point), manged to enter the store before me. It took a few isles to gain a rhythm. We tried with me in front, with the trolley but I went too fast, so I went behind and he pointed at stuff for me to put in the trolley (think Little Britain). It was going quite well, until we both decided to aim for the cashew nuts at the same time, I slightly lost my balance and crashed into his bad foot!!!!! Well, I’ve never heard Daddio swear so much AND in public. I had a flashback of being 17 and in a crowded pub, in Woodley, where I grew up and turning around straight into a burns victim, dressed from head to toe in bandages. He also cursed, whilst I stood there, muttering apologies, whilst the whole pub went quiet and stopped to look at the idiot who had stood on the poor burns victim in her white stilettos! Utterly mortifying it was. I bet his scars healed in time but that incident has scarred me physiologically for life. Mummio would have departed in embarrassment, at this stage but I stayed with it and waited for it to pass which it apparently didn’t and I’ve put his recovery back a week at least!

We managed the rest of the shop and an added trip to Iceland, without incident and I didn’t lose my temper once. People managed to stay out of our way and looked on with pity in their eyes, probably aimed at me with having to cope with it all!

Can I have a list next week???????