After having the girls and quitting my job, I started to be more involved in the community and also happily felt embraced by it, and not only because of their curiosity about the only Italian Anglican family the village ever had. I still like to think people genuinely liked me.
Once we moved on the other side of the county, despite our reverend arranged the girls to be transferred to an affiliate school and and churce, I never felt the same involvement and neither the same warmth. May be because the community was bigger, or simply because it didn’t happen.
I don’t exclude that maybe a reason was also that we were not actually living where everything was happening( church, school, activities, our overall social life) . We in fact lived, and still does, in a village just a few miles away where, unfortunately, there isn’t a protestant school and neither a protestant church, not anymore at least.
So, I was living in a place but all my social life was elsewhere, and for years I spent my days on the road while the feeling of not belonging to anywhere grew stronger and stronger. Thankfully, I was too busy to really pay attention to the discomfort until things started to slow down, and I finally realised how much I missed a community to call my own. The girls had by then moved on to secondary school and lately college and I was not gravitating much in the next town anymore. I had no reason. That was when I rediscovered my village and became very proud of where I live. I joined the community garden, I joined the tidy town volunteer group and finally I felt again embraced by a community to call my own.
We are small but we have a great value, and it’s not only me saying it; our village has in fact been selected, along two others, to represent the county in a nationwide competition. Every village, town or city participating will have to get a theme, make a video preset station of the place highlighting it’s history, evolution, what’s going on in it, etc etc.
Of course our point of strenght is the heritage because we have this beautiful medieval tower and old church from the days when the village was a barony. It’s well conserved and still in use for pilates, bingo, child care…..You name it and there it happens.
Considering we have a population of just around 2000 people we probably also have the higher number of sports teams in the area: soccer, tennis, cricket, golf, rugby, basketball, targetshooting, fishing. We also have a pharmacy, a bookie, a pub, a hairdresser and a beautician and the mechanic. Someone should really and seriously think about a coffee shop though. Oh, and I nearly forgot about the itinerant library stopping by three days a week.
All this to say that we are a pretty cool village, that has nothing to envy to the two next door town that tend to look at us with superiority. We are the town of knights after all!!!!
Now, down to the most important part of living in a such funky place : guess who is part of the committee to make the magic happen and show the world ( just Ireland actually) how beautiful and busy our little village is? ME!
And so here I am taking my seat at the first meeting in the main room of the tower( now officially called Heritage Centre). I know what you are thinking here, and I will disappoint you by saying that I was not the youngest among a group of octagenarians. But yes, my candidacy didn’t come easy. I had to be presented by a village elder, be vetted by the others and, most of all, prove myself in the last few months being ready to pick up litter or planting/watering community flowers whenever one of the elder blew their whistle.
Back to the meeting, I confess I was a bit nervous to be asked to speak, thankfully, the two county council representatives talked for most of the time explaining what they are expecting us to prepare. Once they were done, they took a picture of us, all together and happily smiling outside the tower with the graveyard in the background. After that, we were back inside gathering our things and briefly discussing ideas and plans for the next meeting. Well, actually, THEY were, because while the discussion and the excitement were firing up the spirits my mind was wildly wandering in a world of its own and the only thing I could think of was: “Oh boy, this would be the perfect setting for a Barnaby style murder.”
And who knows, we might have to add that to the long list of the village amenities. Plenty of time before July when our presentation must be submitted😉
Whoever follows the blog for a while knows how difficult it is to buy a gift for the travelling husband. For all of those who didn’t know, now you do. Buying a gift for my husband is a freaking Mission Impossible.
I honestly think it is quite difficult to buy a gift for men in general, even those with hobbies because, let’s face it, there is a limit to the number of accessories they can own for golfing, hunting, fishing or whatever it is they are spending their free time on. But the travelling husband makes it even more difficult because, besides being fussy about his hunting, tennis-related things; he also has the power to always guess what he is about to receive. He then, does not use toiletries so perfumes, aftershave and anything in the personal care range are off limits. Well, actually off limits for me, because he never had the heart to tell the girls that and keeps faking his appreciation for the usual Christmas sets of shower gel, shampoo and aftershave gifts waiting for him under the tree. I never told his daughters either, protecting their feelings and assuring myself a well scented man.
So here I am every birthday and Christmas, banging my head trying to find something he likes and most importantly that might surprise him positively. The other way would be much much easier!
This year’s birthday was not an exception. Probably I was still paying for how easily I got away last Christmas when he openly asked for a new hunting boots bag.
The usual investigation about something he might need or want started as always weeks in advance and, as always, the outcome was absolutely useless. “ No, I can’t really think of anything!” is his standard answer.
After weeks of browsing around shops and online, I finally got my inspiration: a wellies rack holder, custom-made with at the base a hunter and his dog. Cute, good quality, themed to perfection and useful! And as a cherry on the cake, definitely something he would not expect. Birthday present mission accomplished!!!
I was soooo proud and impressed with myself till I wasn’t. “Oh, you know I thought about the birthday present and I would like a belt”. He candidly said 10 days before his birthday. And he seemed obsessively fixated on this belt thing and came back to me with a version of a specific type of belt he would like: ” I would like something like that but….. completely different”. Another peculiarity of my husband, like his eldest daughter they love to make my life easier.
Now I had two options: totally ignore his wish that, in fairness came a bit too late; or be a nice wife and get along with it starting the painful research of the perfect gift all over again.
Ten days of pure stress later I finally found the perfect Pamperos-style belt. Now it was just a matter of picking the colours that, I won’t hide it took me another couple of days to decide and the size. Well, that at least should not have been a problem , I simply had to measure one of those he already had at home. Easier said than done, he, in fact, has 4 belts ( that made me wonder what in hell he is going to do with a fifth one) and none of them was the same size. Seriously??????? I took my best compromising guess and clicked order really hoping he liked the colours and the size fitted because I personalised it with his initials, which would be a nice touch but also make it impossible to return it.
Were the travelling husband’s expectations exceeded? I hope so, as my budget certainly was.
I think we skipped a week of posting and, not to use the usual excuse but I was busy. And also in a freaking pissing mood!
Friday things went relatively smoothly and on target till Ada, the gremlins, decided to chew my arm weights and drag them along the corridor upstairs, leaving deep black marks all over the white carpet. Not the end of the world. The stains came off easily with some elbow greese and bleach; just a pity it was that one time every 10 years I decided to apply red nail polish to my fingernails. I know, I should have known better and stuck with the usual transparent nail varnish. In the same way, I should have known better than to double-check daughter number one’s plans for the weekend and to refrain from losing it with her over the phone. Still, I was determined not to let her ruin my mood or my enthusiasm for my day out in town on the Saturday; her father had, in fact, already succeeded in that.
Afternoon show at the theatre followed by drinks and dinner. All planned and booked since October. That was the plan and all my household has been informed largely in advance and, repeatedly reminded in the last couple of weeks. That said, you can understand my conflicting feelings when on Friday morning I received a text from the traveling husbnad with details about the coming Saturday whiskey club. I double checked the dates, just in case we were talking about different Saturdays, but… nope, he was supposed to go to his whiskey club right on the Saturday I was supposed to go to the theatre. Right on the Saturday, I booked my day off as early as 4 months previously, right on the Saturday I reminded him just the day before I was away. Under normal circumstances, one thing wouldn’t interfere with the other, but daughter number two was working that Saturday and someone had to drop her off and collect her. I reminded him that in my reply text, which was followed by complete radio silence and the attempt to pass his text as pure information, in case I was interested in going. Seriously????!!!!?????
Finally, here it comes Saturday, and….of course I woke up feeling like s..t. Something I ate the previous evening didn’t agree with my stomach, plus my sinusitis was killing me. Buscopan, antihistamines, nasal spray, all dosed up and determined to have fun anyway, I headed to the train station. No trains on the day due to work on the railway. Unbelievable!!!!!! ( well as you can imagine that was not the first word that popped into my mind!) After a brief discussion with my friend, we decided I would only have one drink and drive us into town.
The show was very nice, a pity I had to keep my eyes closed for half the time because the air conditioning was shooting right at me, giving my already burning eyes the final straw. Dinner was nice, we had a lovely chat, and I did my best to make my first and only drink last till she finished her third one.
Once back home, relatively early and completely sober, out of desperation for the failure of my day out, I went straight to bed, dreaming of the relaxing Sunday awaiting me. Some good had to come right? It was not like the entire weekend could fail me. I had nothing on that Sunday, and I was determined not to get out of my PJs before 12. The plan was accomplished. I was in fact still in my PJs at 11.00am, when, after a panicky brief drive, I arrived at the dog park after two total strangers, one after the other, rang me saying my dog was wandering around the car park. What????? The traveling husbnad was supposedly walking the dogs. Or should I say the dog, Gino, because Ada was letting a couple of strangers cuddle her when I arrived. Thankfully, she threw herself at me when she saw me because the couple was definitely reluctant to let her go with an evidently distressed woman in PJs and crooks. In the end, they were happy enough with me being the actual owner of the dog, or maybe they were just fed up waiting for my husband, who they called too, and who said he was on his way…20 minutes previously.
Just the time for Ada to drop mud all over me and the travelling husband with Gino on the lead materialised on the horizon. A clear expression of surprise and confusion was printed on my husband’s face. What was going on? Why was I there? What was all the fuss?
“She would have waited for me at the car, you know?!” he then said, and just like that, it was not him who lost his dog, it was me, unnecessarily panicking.
Despite his best effort to be as quiet as possible, pulling all the duvet to his side and elbowing me on the head trying to turn in the bed, the travelling husband has been all but discreet, and obviously failing in his attempt not wake me up.
Only half awake, I have to blink twice to make sense of what I am seeing: my husband trying to make a call from an old-fashioned orange telephone (complete with receiver, speaker, and curly cord).
“What are you doing?” I managed to mumble,
“ I am calling a friend,” he candidly answered.
I look at the alarm clock on my bedsidetable and go, “It’s two o’clock in the morning. Who are you calling?”
“It’s a girlfriend. I really like her. I love talking to her. She makes me feel good.”
“Ehm, I am sorry?!? I think I didn’t hear what you just said.” And I genuinely believe I misheard; I mean, would you not?
“I am calling a friend. She is a girl I really like to talk to.” Am I mistaken, or do I detect a bit of annoyance in his voice? First I prevent his phone call, and second, I ask for explanations. Gosh, the audacity of me!!!
Still, I feel I am not getting it right here, and so I go again: “Sorry, but I really didn’t get what you are saying.”
“I AM CALLING A GIRLFRIEND WHO I REALLY LIKE!” Ok, now there is definitely annoyance in the travelling husband’s tone and also a bit of “are you thick or what?”. Well, I am not! In fact, I clearly got what he said this time, and I also finally understand what people mean when they say they can’t believe their ears.
The realisation of what is going on here hurts me as if a big butcher knife pushed deep inside my back, but before I could even put together the only words popping into my head, WTF, the girls screamed for us.
The traveling husbnad is, unusually, the first to jump out of bed ( the special friend must work on his fitness too) and when I joined him in daughter number two’s room, he is comfabuling with daughter number one if the apparently unbearable cramps her sister is having might be appendicitis or food poisoning.
“Oh, for God’s sake, it’s just period pains. An Ibuprofen will fix it,” I say, maybe a bit too harsh but, hey, we have all been there and happily survived; what I am not sure I’m going to survive is the sudden crash of my marriage.
“Jeez, why are you so cranky mom? And what about if it’s not?” Daughter number one asks, obviously not used to my disinterest.
“I don’t know then. Ask your father, he might ask his special friend.” I barked, a bit too loud and, haime’, perfectly aware of breaking the first rule of a good parent: leave the kids out of your marriage trouble. Sorry guys, not feeling very mumsy at the moment, or altruistic. Actually, I am starting to feel pretty angry, ok maybe angry is a bit of an understatement, and my mind is already spiralling with images of nasty divorce lawyers fighting for me in court. But fighting for what? I gave up my career and most of what I have is in common with this bad bad man who calls his special girlfriend in the middle of the night with me sleeping beside him and he doesn’t even have the courtesy to deny it or, at least, be quiet about it.
Oh my God, how did I end up in this situation? There were signs before? Doubts and dilemmas and pain and aches and then…Then thanks to heaven my middle-aged woman’s bladder woke me up for the usual trip to the bathroom.
What the heck was that? Well, I would hardly call it a dream. I would more call it a freaking nightmare. And, believe me, that version of the travelling husband made me want to hug Freddy Krugher.
Unecessary to say that I struggled before going back to sleep and yes, before you ask, I did think to call the traveling husbnad (who was obviously traveling), just to check if his phone rang free or not; but by then it was past three in the morning and if he was fast asleep, rather than conversing wth a very special friend, that would have not gone down well, would have?!
The first night he was back though, while both in bed, I told him about my dream/nightmare.
“But, we don’t have a land line anymore.” He said perplexed.
Seriously? This was all his take of my devastating nocturnal ordeal?
Maybe moved by my astonished expression, or most likely not, he added: “Anyway, don’t worry, I don’t need another special girl, right ……Ada?!” And just like that, he rested his hand on the dog’s head who, God forbid she leaves his side.
Yep, a phone with a long cord might indeed come in handy on certain occasions!
ADAB: I’m a native Texan living in Austin, the state capital, in the southern USA. I live in Austin, Texas, USA. I also have a blog, which is mostly about bicycling. The name is a reference to a line in the popular Coen Brothers cult 1998 film The Big Lebowski. In particular, it is an homage to the hero, The Dude. Near the end, the narrator says, “The Dude abides.” Since I’m not THE Dude, just A dude, I came up with A Dude Abikes as a pen name. It allows me to write more freely, and I think it’s fun.
Other things about me: We have a slogan, which is Keep Austin Weird, but I think of myself as a fairly regular person. Other interests include: yoga, walking, reading, writing, bicycle and other activism, TV shows and movies, music (especially classical), and comedy. I’m spiritual but not religious, like sunsets, long walks on the beach. That sentence was meant to be a bit silly. I’m single still (Hello, ladies!). And oh yeah, I call myself a fathlete—fat + athlete. I’ve proven by all the miles I’ve ridden that one can be overweight but still be fit.
O: I love the reference to The Big Lebowski. A real masterpiece if you ask me, and even if I can’t relate to your concept of “fat-athlete”, not because I am an athlete but because I believe that too often fit is confused with slim. But back to you now, when and how did your passion for cycling start?
ADAB: I grew up in a north Texas suburb where cycling was part of growing up for many kids. But we could only ride on our neighbourhood streets, sidewalks, or off the road in drainage ditches, fields, or parks. My blog photo is from that time. I discovered that riding a bike means freedom for kids. You can get away from home and your parents for a while, go places, see things, and have adventures by yourself or with siblings and friends. You get to feel the sun on your face and the wind in your hair while your legs are pumping and your heart is beating. You can’t beat that.
A few suburbs over from me was where (disgraced) former professional Tour de France rider Lance Armstrong grew up. It never occurred to me that I could race bikes, use them for exercise, long trips, or later on as my main form of transportation, which I did for many, many years after someone crashed into my car. It was okay, but I didn’t do it for fun, enjoy it, biking was just for getting around. It wasn’t until I was invited to do a charity bike ride that I began riding a lot. That led me to rediscover the freedom, fun, and passion, plus the health benefits of riding for exercise, and the social / community aspects of bicycling. It’s really an amazing thing. There’s much more to it if you get into it. It’s also a privilege to be able to bike for fun. Some people have no choice or cannot afford a bike.
O:But that was just the beginning of a quitechallenging journey, right?
ADAB: Yes, that first ride was a real challenge. I’d never ridden more than 20. But to inspire people to donate to the charity, I decided to challenge myself. I set a goal to ride 50 miles, which happened to be the age I was turning later that year. There were plenty of training rides, and I worked my way up to 30 or 35 miles. The day of that ride was very tough, with heat, many hills, and just hours and hours on the bike. But I managed to complete it.
After that ride, I signed up for another, and that first year of using Strava (the fitness tracking app), I completed 5,306 miles—over 100 miles a week. I was hooked, so I just kept going. The rest, as they say, is history. I raised over $12,000 in six rides, saw a lot of things, met a lot of people, and had many adventures. It’s been hard, especially the last six years of biking every single day. That’s because I’m older now, of course. However, in late November 2025, I had surpassed 52,000 miles in 9 years and 51 weeks. That’s more than twice around the equator in just under a decade.
O: Wow! I don’t really think I have other words here. Do you ever drive?
ADAB: Yes, I’ve driven on and off for many years. I have done without cars when I moved to a place with good public transit, which I really believe in because it’s better for the environment. I also take a walk every day, and believe in public transit, which is better for the environment. But a About five and a half years ago, after 15 years of not having a car (there were many other periods I didn’t have one), I was given a car. I’m proud to say that I’ve bicycled more miles than I’ve put on the car. It’s old and probably won’t last much longer, so I will probably have to go back to biking, walking, and busing. Here in Austin, Texas, we can put our bikes on racks on the buses.
O: Ok, now, I really have to ask this because I notoriously lose it when crossing groups of cyclists behaving like they own the road. So, do you get annoyed with cyclists disrespectful of road rules?
ADAB: Yes. I took a League Cycling Instructor class, so I learned their Smart Cyclingcurriculum. I try to ride predictably, legally, and with traffic—but cyclists ARE also traffic. I use hand signals, always wear a helmet plus use lights and a reflective vest at night. Sometimes I make mistakes–we all do–but I ride very defensively. I want to stay alive, after all. In all these years, I’ve never had a crash with a car or been ticketed on my bicycle. However, I may do something slightly illegal if it gets me out of harm’s way, but I ride assertively, not aggressively. Also, multiple studies in the UK show that cyclists are better car drivers for multiple reasons, but mostly it’s because our brains are “faster at identifying hazards,” develop more efficient “attentional processing,” and “have a higher orientation toward the common good.”
But I am far more annoyed with drivers of two-ton (and larger) cars, trucks, andbuses, aka killing machines breaking the law or driving distracted, drunk, or just recklessly. Far more people get in wrecks and get hurt or die from automobiles than people on bikes do. It’s a false equivalency that drivers who have never biked or not since childhood make. They falsely believe the roads are for them only. That is simply a wrong understanding of the law. I believe we need better driver education for cyclists and drivers so that we can share the streets safely. If everyone who drove spent just one hour cycling on city streets, their perspective would change to be far more careful. Also, poor street design is a big problem everywhere. Separate, protected bike lanes are better for all.
O: Iagree, and I lose it with disrespectful drivers, too. Especially those cutting lanes and queues, or parking where they can’t, thinking they are smarter than anyone else. And that makes it pretty much 90% of the Italians, so you now know why I get so uptight when driving in Italy after 25 years in Ireland, lol. Still most of my annoyance goes against the Sunday groups of “maml”(middle-aged men in lycra), sorry
O:What made you start blogging?
ADAB: Bicycling. I realised all those miles would generate some stories, and they sure did. I’m up to almost 800 posts. Many are not about biking, either. But I slowed way down to focus on a memoir/how-to book, which is sitting, awaiting an editor. Or more precisely, the money for an editor. And now I’ve started a novella. But finding it daunting to finish both and imagine getting them published somehow. Even self-publishing is a lot of work, so I’m not sure that will ever happen.
I invite everyone who might be interested in bicycling to visit my blog. You will find knowledge, opinions, experiences, what to do, and what not to do, and see how my journey progressed. Pro tip: Use the search bar and type in keywords like: helmet – e-bike – cars – streak – fathlete – exercise – goal – discipline – ageing – charity – Buddhism – books – movies – politics. Whatever interests you about biking or my other thoughts, there’s plenty there to read. It’s not going to win a Pulitzer, but you might find something of interest.
O:What’s your take on the WordPress community?
ADAB: It’s mostly very positive. I was very clueless at first, and still am in many ways. I do almost nothing to promote my blog. I didn’t even know what the Reader button was for an embarrassingly long time. I wish I were a better reader of blogs. I find that the engagement simply takes more time than I have or choose to devote. Had I known about that, I might not have ever started. But the other bloggers I’ve “met,” including you, Ortensia, have been friendly, supportive, and kind. Naturally, I have an affinity for other bike bloggers; they are people I dream of travelling the world to meet. Perhaps if I can ever retire or become a full-time bestselling author, I can spend more time on WordPress.
O:Are you a loner or a group cyclist at heart?
ADAB: I guess I’m a loner, because I can go as far and as fast–or usually as slow–as I want. But mostly it’s due to when. I’m a utility cyclist first, so if I’m running errands or going to an appointment, that’s a solo activity. I also find that social rides often start very early, requiring a ride to the ride, people may not know how to ride safely in a group, or they go too fast, or it’s too hilly. But sometimes the casual ones can be fun if I’m in the mood and they’re not blasting music I don’t like. If I go with a friend or two, those are great if we’re similar speeds. Heading out on my own to do a 25-mile loop on my favourite trail is my happy place.
O: And now, let’s go personal. Tea or Coffee?
ADAB: Hot chocolate! Also, sometimes herbal tea. I like the smell of coffee, but not the bitter taste, and caffeine isn’t for me.
O: Sweet or Savoury?
ADAB: Both. I do like salty, because cycling (and to quote Seinfeld, “These pretzels are making me thirsty!” But like George Costanza in Seinfeld, my favourite show, if I had to pick one, it would be sweet. Particularly, chocolate (which I’ve cut way back on). I even wrote a blog post about it titled: “My Morning Chocolate: The Dark Master.” As Kramer said to George, “Oh, you may stray, but you I’ll always return to your dark master… the cocoa bean!”
O: Lol, nice! Is your glass average half full or half empty? In other words, are you a pessimist or an optimist?
ADAB: Realist. George Carlin, the great American satirist, said, “Some people see the glass as half-full. Others see it as half-empty. I see a glass that’s twice as big as it needs to be.” Another comedy great, Lily Tomlin, said, “Things will get worse before they get worse.” I do tend to look at all the bad sides of things, but that’s so I can solve a problem or not be disappointed when things don’t go my way. I know some people who practice what psychologists now call “toxic positivity.” So, you can go too far in either direction. The Buddha said to practice the Middle Way, and I think that makes sense. Getting there is a challenge, though.
I actually consider myself a realist. Another saying I like, which I added to, is, “Prepare for the worst, hope for the best, but try not get too attached to the outcome.” Personally, I’ve had my share of stressful, traumatic, hard, and sad things, like everyone. As I said, I’m a regular guy, I’m not special. I’m not very likely to lose a lot of weight (for various reasons), but it’s possible. But one thing I’ve learned is that biking builds resilience. Additionally, things change constantly. So who’s to say which approach is right?
O: I think you are a very wise realist.
ADAB: Aw, shucks, thanks! Biking is something that draws all kinds of people together. So, in my blog and on Strava, I usually avoid being too political. Austin is known as a liberal city. But when it comes to the current US president, I would like to let your readers know that I, like many US voters, did NOT vote for him, and a growing number of us do not support his regime’s policies, and I certainly was not one of them. Many of us do NOT support his many horrible policies, and I feel hopeful things will change. We just celebrated Martin Luther King, Jr. Day in the US. He famously said, not long before his assassination: “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” So at some level, I also am an optimist. hopeful. (Shh, it’s a secret, please don’t tell anybody!) I do think bike riding is a positive thing for our bodies, our communities, and the planet that anyone who can should try.
I think you all remember that, along with the heating, even my tumble dryer stopped working.
In the beginning, I didnt really make a big deal about it because I thought it was just a matter of cleaning the filter. When that was done, and I was also back parking in my usual spot(see previous post), but there was still no action, it was obvious the situation required a bit more attention and effort.
I first tried the good old trick of unplugging the machine, counting to 30 seconds, and plugging it back. No success. I then went for the second good old trick of all time, a little punch on the top. I mean, it always worked for Fonzie. I might not be Henry Winkler, but I have seen him doing it so many times growing up that I am sure the technique was impeccable. Except my tumble dryer had proven to be far more stubborn than Arnold’s old juke box.
It was time to turn to the bible of any domestic trouble: YouTube. I won’t lie here, it took me some time to warm up to this incredible tool, but after I did, I can honestly say it never let me down. From how to unlock the drain to how to knit cardigan sleeves. It knows it all! And that’s not all, it makes you feel great too, and never alone. You will infact always find someone who has had that same problem before you, but most of all, you will always find someone asking some question far more stupid than yours.
The only problem with YouTube is that sometime is not time-wise realistic, and you will end up spending at least triple the time suggested in the video tutorial, and that if you already have everything you need at home. And that’s how I spent all my mornings last week, dismantling my tumble dryer and tackling any possible issues at the time. At one point, probably sick of another day under surgery, the skinky thing also worked … for a few minutes. A few very rewarding minutes, I must say, though, and that makes it all worth it. Unfortunately, the freaking resentful thing stopped again as soon as I tried to actually load it. And so from the following day we were back unscrewing, checking, testing, ramaging inside the engine, screwing it back, turning it on with plenty of expectations, and finally createvily swearing once the expectations were, once again, missed.
By Friday, I decided there was nothing more I could do. The thought of the vortex of boredom waiting for me now that I had to find something else to do with my mornings rather than disassemble my tumble dryer, was overwhelming but, as they say, “desperate times call for desperate measures”, and so with trembling hand, I rang the manufacturer’s help centre. They gave me the number of the local guy and told me to send him a text explaining the issue. So I did, and in less than an hour, he answered me back with the cause, the solution, and how much it would cost to fix it. What??? All this from a three-line text??? Maybe WhatsApp is the new YouTube!!!! Exept its not in fact when the guy came, he realised it was not what he thought it was and had to come back with a new part.
