Grand old weekend with La Belle Fille... mild deployment of crossface. I think the honeymoon period is over, and we grump at each other a little more. This is probably a good thing; stops the evil humours building up.
And then... after driving to Kent for a toddler's birthday party, with balloons an' all, then back to La Belle Fille's place, my concentration wavered for a mo'... and wang!
Clipped the curb at 60, and shredded the offside near tyre. Didn't roll it, flip it or get rear-ended which is to be thankful for, I guess.
Swore a lot, the called the AA. Their rep took an hour and a half to find me, and when he did arrive, gave me an earful for not knowing where I was.
Charming.
He recovered me to the nearest services, before gleefully telling me I'd fucked the wheels good and proper, and would not be going anywhere that evening. He then told me the AA wouldn't recover me, as my 'breakdown' was an RTC.
Balls.
Reaching into my oversized wallet, I found my insurance details... missing. A panicked phone call to the Belle Fille, and she was able to surf the Web to the number I needed. My affection for her knows no bounds.
Insurance company eventually arranged for me and the car to be recovered. The following morning, the fattest Oriental man I have ever seen handed over a courtesy car, but kindly refrained from sucking his teeth at the state of the Shroom-mobile. I still wait to hear, and the Insurance will cover it, unless I've secretly written it off.
Details to follow as news warrants...
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