19 May 2005

The Third Man

I've just crawled out of my pit, rested, relaxed and rearing to go -except, it's raining. Well, no worries ( to employ the antipodean vernacular), I won't melt. I shall do useful things.
I am definitely off to Vienna this weekend. My initial reluctance has been replaced by cautious enthusiasm. I'd forgotten that Vienna remains one of the world's most opulent cities of culture, schnitzel, and leather hats with a feather in them. I don't think I'll have time to attend a night at the Vienna Opera House, the Spanish Riding School or the Adolf Hitler Theme Park. I will however eat cakes, drink heartily, and wear shorts with braces. I shall walk in 4/3 time - to those unfamiliar with this, it's the Waltz. I will prowl the bomb sites after midnight, casting Orson Welles like shadows, cross the city zones via sewer, and ride the ferris wheel, speculating on the 'dots down there, and how if they stopped moving, I wouldn't mind all that much'.

It seems that I am to be the benificiary of an act of enormous kindness. I have a fairy godmother...a fairy god mother who intends to purchase a new motor, and has given me her old one. It's hardly used...30k on the clock, and best of all, it's black.
What's the catch?
Now, it has had a few problems - catching fire, grinding to a halt at inopportune times, and has generally been about as reliable as a virgin's promise. Still, a bit of deflowering here and there with a spanner, should keep her on the straight and narrow. I feel blessed. Fairy Godmother's only proviso in all this, is that she never wishes to hear about this old banger again. No late night phonecalls from the hard shoulder of the M4, no complaints from the four wheel inferno as I frazzle to a crisp.
I belong to the AA - the automobile association in case you ask. I go to meetings every night, with other people who have motored too much, and we go through the twelve step plan to automotive bliss. That joke is forty years old by the way.

Truly, fortune has smiled on me of late - what's it planning?
A boneshaker Fokker 10 jet to Austereich, a night of euro-hell, hangovers, constipation and a return trip from Heathrow in an exploding car. Luxury.

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