My Girl’s a Country Girl
We live in the sticks where muddy roads and flooded fields are the winter norm. Today didn’t quite go according to plan due to a broken spring, collapsed suspension and clouds of blue smoke following us up the road to Shrewsbury. When the smell of burning rubber became too strong to ignore we pulled over into a muddy lay-by and abandoned our Valentines Day plans for a Scottish weekend at Traighuaine.
As the fumes died down, Sally pulled on her wellies and pedalled her mountain bike homewards to effect a self rescue with our second car. Meanwhile, I settled back into the smouldering car to negotiate the AA App and summon a tow truck. A fierce squall of icy rain blasted through and I thought of Sally, head down and pushing hard into the wind.
Within the hour Sally, now a little damp and besmirched by mud, was back and our ageing BMW was hoisted onto the tow truck. We led the AA convoy to the Plough garage and went on for a late breakfast in Shrewsbury. It was only when wandering around the polished aisles of M&S and amongst the Per Uno clad manikins that I noticed Sally’s muddied-up Dunlops and still damp and steaming jeans. She really has become a ‘County Girl’!