SAND IN MY KNITTING

Yesterday should have been a peaceful day only interrupted by two hours at Clicking Needles, but it never quite turned out that way.

Part One. 10.30am - 3.30pm:

It was time for my friends Christine and Kathy to leave and drive back to Birmingham. We packed up the car, had big hugs and kisses and I stood by the roadside to wave them farewell. Christine hopped into the driver's seat and turned on the engine. Nothing. Just a clicketty-click.

Three helpless women stood and stared at the car. It was decided it wasn't a flat battery as all the dashboard lights were flashing. Christine then did something most women (apparently) are generally not known for - she reached for the instruction manual. Flashing lights meant a malfunctioning immobiliser. Which also meant Kathy and Christine were immobilised, too, especially as she was not a member of AA (Automobile Association, not Alcoholics Anonymous).

Bizarrely, the village has a vintage car restoration garage, so I popped in and found two men in blue overalls peering into the bonnet of a 1930s MG convertible. I explained our dilemma and they both trudged across to the immobile Mazda.

"Flat battery," said Mechanic #1

"No, it's apparently the immobiliser," said Christine. "But would you be able to take a look and see if you can fix it?"

"Och, no," said Mechanic #2. "We don't know anything about modern cars. We can only repair vintage cars."

And with that, they both trudged back from whence they came.

The next hour was spent talking to Mazda garages in Perth (they could not look at the car for four days), Dundee (they could maybe look tomorrow), Stirling (they could see it today if we could get it towed to them). We could locate no towing services nearer than Perth, which is about an hour away.

Finally, Christine joined the AA (and believe me, we all needed a drink by now). The AA could not promise to be there sooner than about two hours because of the terrible weather. Odd, because all the frost had dissipated and it was sunny but perhaps they always say that because chances are the weather will be terrible somewhere along the way.

While they checked train times and made back-up plans in the event the AA man could not fix the car, I decided to go to Clicking Needles.

I only had two premmie hats to hand in and one was partially knitted back to front because whilst making it I had been chatting to my friends instead of concentrating on the pattern, but hopefully the premmie baby won't mind.

"So, will ye start a knitting group when you get back home?" asked Petrina

"Well, it would be a great way to see friends more regularly. We could be the Sydney chapter of Clicking Needles," I said.

"Hmm," said Theresa. "I know those city types. They'll say 'I'll pencil it in' or 'I'll see if I can find a window'. Then they'll need to do some 'blue sky thinking'."

"I can just see you all knitting on Bondi Beach in your swimsuits," said Sylvia.

"Sand in my Knitting! That would be a good name for a book," said Karen.

Through the window I saw the AA truck arrive, and about half an hour later Kathy knocked on the door of the village hall to tell me the car was fixed, and they would shortly be on their way south.

"What was the problem?"

"Flat battery."

So vintage cars aren't so different to modern cars after all - but we did wonder why three Mazda garages had insisted the solution would need complicated computer reprogramming, when in fact a pair of sturdy jump leads would have done the job.

to be continued...