Hi all. Dj’d for a children’s party this week. I like children’s parties. It’s definitely not about the money! Is it ever about the money? Well we all have to pay the rent, but lately I have looked into the world of online business (no, I’m not giving this job up) and my idea that if you’re not passionate about it, it will be hard to do indeed, seems to be prevalent there for sure. Anyway, children make great punters. They don’t have to have a drink before they summon up the courage to get on the floor. They just go for it from the start with their wonderful shrill voices and the parents looking slightly stressed. I’m glad we didn’t have any smoke detectors in the venue, as they were asking me about once every two minutes for more smoke! I was happy to oblige of course, but I have to say that before long, I couldn’t really see anyone from about 1 foot past the front of the console. Hello to Josh, Faye and possy if you’re reading this. And thank you to the church hall/coffee morning lady who offered me a bacon sandwich out of the blue (Very nice it was too I should say. Havent had bread like that since I lived near an ASDA!)
Why does stuff always go wrong with your mobile disco van just before the weekend? My vans are well looked after and maintained but in this business not many (actually nobody I’ve ever met except someone who came into an inheritance) can afford to buy a brand new one, so you’re always going to be catching up with the result of the previous owners thrashing of their company vehicle. I was no exception on Friday evening. On the way home that night, I got within a mile of home and guess what? I heard this clanking noise on coming from underneath and assumed that the spare wheel frame had dropped. That reminds me, what happened to my spare wheel? I’m sure I had it when I bought this van! I must get another one. Do they sell them at scrap yards? Anyway, no it wasn’t the now empty spare wheel frame dropping through lack of content. No of course it was the exhaust pipe falling in half some 2 weeks after passing its MOT….?? I had nowhere to pull over far enough to do anything, so I continued home with the hazards on and the pipe clanking along the road.
As I pulled into home, a friendly faced neighbour looked sympathetically at me jangling and clanking up to the garage. It was then I recalled that I’d left my tools in the car, but as it happens, all I needed was a jack and something to tie the loose pipe up to the chassis.
Of course I am covered for breakdowns, but I seem to have this fierce independent streak that a lot of us men have, that only if the van is broken in two halves would I sit and wait for an hour whilst the rescue service locate and attend. So I got to the children’s party next day with my exhaust tied up like an amateur bondage victim having taken it to the tyre and exhaust place for them to ascertain which bits they needed to order that morning. After the lunch time party I sweated as I loaded the van up to make it in time for the actual fitting in Littlehampton before they closed.
I have to tell you it was an experience driving there for the second time that day. As I headed down the A”%( or A259 if you remember to take your left finger off the shift button, the engine gradually got louder and louder and louder and louder thus precipitating the fear that I wouldn’t actually make it there before the whole thing fell off at the manifold/engine/other end. I was about 1/4 of a mile away when I hit the wonderful Littlehampton police station gas pipe replacement project with it’s unbfeasibly long traffic light delay, but I was prepared for this so I simply switched off the engine for the five and a half long minutes before the green light came back on.
Finally pulling into the exhaustmiester’s yard, the sense of relief was that of someone being pushed along a hospital corridor on a stretcher into the operating theatre thinking: “I’ve done all I can for myself to get here. Now I’m leaving it in your capable hands.” Excuse me whilst I retire to the waiting room to enjoy my sense of relief with a cup of that tea from the vending machine and an obscure magazine about classic cars that will no doubt be waiting for me on the table in the middle of all garage waiting rooms, whilst trying not to get too interested in the diagrams of exhausts and tyre types on the wall.
So anyway the upshot is that a few minutes into the repair, the bloke came into the waiting room and apologised but the suppliers had only sent one of the bits that he ordered earlier that day, thus denying me instantly the full satisfaction and post traumatic relief of a fully repaired van. Oh well, back for the rest this week. Yes they did a temporary repair on the other part for which they had no part so as long as I don’t drive to Liverpool, I should be OK.
Well I’ve just paid our rent today, so after that I think I need a lie down…Have a great week and see you soon.