Just for fun

I’ve created a new emoji, I know, I know, mad as a box of frogs!

MyEmoji_181029_190411_23 (002)

But I don’t know if it’s possible to up load one to WordPress.
If this works, it’s for Patti’s Lens Artist Photo Challenge and this weeks theme is ‘Just for fun’.

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We’ll get the airport coach next time

Little did I know that when I touched down in the UK after a lovely flight, that it would take three times as long to get home as it did to fly in from France.We arrived bang on time, picked up my car and left the airport at 11pm. Half and hour later on the southbound motorway, my car was making strange noises. My friend asked if my tyres were okay, she’s considerably more practical than I am, most people on this planet are. So I had no idea. She said we should probably stop at the next services a few miles ahead. Two minutes later she said we need to stop NOW.

I pulled onto the hard shoulder and we saw that my car had a puncture. So it was cold, drizzling and very dark. Most of the traffic was huge lorries driving at crazy speeds and we were stood in a ditch, behind the barrier with cold, sandaled feet hoping my tiny car didn’t get hit.

It took a while for me to remember who provided my breakdown cover, but luckily there was a good signal and once details were taken a very efficient Green Flag lady said someone would be with us as soon as possible.

Pretty soon I had a text letting me know the name of the technician and the registration number of his vehicle and that he would arrive by 1.44am. That was an hour and 20 minutes to wait!

I didn’t know they’d sent another text saying the technician would be there by 2.15, probably just as well, we were already pretty miserable by then, but singing nonsense songs to cheer ourselves up.

Normally on the motorway, we see police cars buzzing around hooping to catch speeding drivers, and the breakdown company had informed Highway the we were an ‘incident’. It would have been reassuring if one had nearby and stopped to check we were okay. No such luck, I bet there would have been if I was speeding though!

Lewis from Newport arrived just after 2.15. He’d driven around 70 miles and had us back on the road in half an hour, driving home on a compact spare tyre at  50 mph. I crashed into bed at 3.40 am.

Breaking down on a motorway late at night is most women’s worst nightmare isn’t it? But never mind, I’ll focus on the nice parts of the journey home from Marseille.

Happy travels everyone!

Gillian, who’s she?

Gillian, no that doesn’t fit

But it’s what my mum named me

I like her reason why because she

knew a Gillian with a certain style

to which she aspired

but I know she has her own

which is quite a bit like mine.

Gill, no way that’s me

there were too many Gills by far

for this G to add to the pile

and yet it stuck for a while.

Then along came Mr G

the first to call me Gilly ,

a fit that worked at last

that I began to feel belonged

not one in every road

and even if it rhymes with silly

with Nkeiru added to it

it’s mine and mine alone.

 

The Daily Post prompt today says

Write about your first name: Are you named after someone or something? Are there any stories or associations attached to it? If you had the choice, would you rename yourself?

I had a bit of fun with this, names are funny things aren’t they? I don’t think I could choose one for myself, I suppose we grow into our names?

 

 

 

 

 

Gill, Gilly