The camper needs an MOT, but as they only come round every two years, we don't feel so bad about it. We drove her to the local control technique centre and booked her in. Our neighbour is the manager there and with a marital break up going on across the road, Mike was keen to show that we have not taken sides and could he please do us a good test....that's why you have neighbours isn't it? we didn't actually say that, but we are hoping that our french telepathic skills are becoming more acute and he understood why we were back at his establishment.
We needed a little piece of plastic to go on the camper dash board to hold the back light switch and Mike suggested we go to the breakers yard in Blossville. I am always a little nervous because women don't go to these places and you can taste the testosterone as you walk through into reception. But I am brave and with said broken pit of plastic in my hand and asked if he hada petit truc like this. A breaking engineer was dutifully sent off to look while we read the paper and stared at all the posters on the wall of the customer waiting area. We waited five minutes before the engineer came back needing to see where this bit lived in the van. We all walked out to have a look then he disappeared again for another five minutes and returned joyous and successful, I was so relieved that it showed and expecting a bill of 20 euros for the fifteen minutes spent on us. I squeezed my eyes tight shut and asked...combien, we were both astonished when the boss man said 'what ever you like' Mike offered him 5 euros and he said that would be great.....how do these people make money,
HOSS is better, I gave him the delousing wash yesterday and he is getting loads of treats and rest, but he is no longer Head Of Site Security since his wash, he has slept deeply and even a call in his face won't wake him, the vet said he would tire but this is ridiculous, so now would be a good time to raid the joint...HOSS is asleep.