Strawhouse

By strawhouse

Cheerful!

I wasn't that cheerful when my alarm went off at 4am. I'd only been asleep for about five minutes.
Last night the Little Misses decided they wanted to come to the airport too. Despite me saying it would mean getting up at 4am and a boring couple of hours in the car.
Mr K's flight was due to land at 04.55 but when I woke up I saw it had been delayed by half an hour so we didn't have to leave as early as I thought. The Little Misses bundled themselves out into the car in their jim-jams. Along with all the sleeping bags, blankets, pillows and teddies they could find.
I made a cup of tea and off we went.
A couple of times over the last couple of months the Low Oil warning alarm has gone off in my car. I've said a few times to Mr K that we need to get some.
Mr K has mumbled something about finding out what oil it needs clearly something rare and not available at Halfords. Or any garage in the country....... and that's about as far as getting new oil went.
This morning, as I zoomed down the M40 towards Heathrow - just past the Oxford services - the alarm went off again and the warning light flashed.
Then it stopped.
And then went off again a few miles later.
And again and again.
Nothing more relaxing than driving along with your children on the motorway wondering if the engine is going to seize up any minute. Hideous!!
Then the stereo went off and the SatNav screen went blank.
Oh my God.
Probably not connected to the low oil but still pretty unnerving.
Thankfully we made it to Beaconsfield Services and I went into the garage to get oil. A situation has to be pretty dire for me to go to Services that you have to get off the motorway and drive round roundabouts to get to.
Contrary to Mr K's belief, my car doesn't take some rare form of oil. Who knew? They sell universal oil which, unbelievably, is suitable for all engines.....
I opened the bonnet and then realised I didn't have the first clue where the oil goes! I checked the dipstick hoping that there would be enough oil for the drive to Heathrow and then Mr K could deal with it later - it didn't even reach the first bump!!
Conforming to every stereotype going I looked around for a man someone to help me. As luck would have it the only person on the giant forecourt at 5.30am was a man dressed from head to foot in hi-vis getting out of a transit van. He looked like he knew his way around an engine!!
He did and we were soon on our way again. And now I know where the oil goes!
Whilst the Little Misses loaded up the car with all the bedding and toys they own, they forgot to add shoes so we couldn't actually go into the terminal to meet Mr K. We were late anyway by the time we got there so he was already through and came up to the car park to meet us. With tea. Whoop whoop!
It's good to have him back.
We were home by 7am. I had jet-lag never mind Mr K!

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