Just got back after a proper long one — cracking day at my mate’s plot. He’s basically set up life on this bit of land he owns, and today he threw his first proper spring knees-up in four years of living there. Absolute vibe.
Lovely spread, good drinks, good craic. Only thing was I hadn’t managed a dump all morning — been bunged up the whole day, guts tight as a drum.
We played about, had a good old chinwag… then I headed home, hour on the road. Wasn’t bladdered, just proper knackered. The road was a right state, and some muppet coming the other way drifted into my lane — had to swerve round him and clipped the verge on the right side. Straight after, the car felt all wrong, pulling hard to the right. Clocked it immediately.
Puncture. Pulled over in the first spot I could find, got out, had a look — and it wasn’t just one tyre. Both right-side tyres were done. Absolute bellend situation.
Limped it to a petrol station, rang the missus to come fetch me. We headed home, she was finishing off the dinner I’d had in mind. I’m feeling well rough about the whole thing — I’ll need to ring breakdown in the morning and sort it, but it’s Sunday night and I’ve got no juice left in me. Besides — I’ve been touching cloth since this morning.
So. Car drama shelved for now. Went to the bog and finally… had the most enormous shit of my life.
I’m absolutely cream crackered.
