This weekend, Yol and I were supposed to be back in the Homeland, celebrating my little sister's birthday (I say little, she just turned 36) but instead we find ourselves still here in Stoke. We set off to drive to Grimsby yesterday evening, but a spot of electrical trouble with the car (dashboard lights illuminating, dashboard going dark, no indicators, ABS and Airbag warnings on, that sort of stuff) meant that we had to pull into a parking bay at the side of the A38 and try to keep warm whilst waiting for the cavalry (ok, the RAC chap).
The lovely RAC chap turned up after about half an hour, and following several checks of the car, he couldn't ascertain what was up with it. He'd gotten it running again, and decided to follow along behind us for ten miles as we headed for home to see if the fault would re-appear. Which it did. So we ended up being escorted to the car park of a McDonalds in Derby, at the junction between the A38 and the A52, not far from the University of Derby campus. There we sat, awaiting recovery by low-loader. For two and a half hours.
That's not to say that it was a boring two and a half hours, mind you. It turns out that the University of Derby was holding some kind of Halloween fancy dress ball last night, and that McDonalds is the venue of choice for students with the munchies. Trust me, you've not seen anything in life until you've seen a huddle of penguins, The Incredibles, Wolverine, several nurses, a Cat Lady, and a gladiator noshing on burgers. Or a frog taking a piddle by a cashpoint...
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