We had a call from the panel beaters on Thursday afternoon that our car was ready so we headed off to pick it up. One of the apprentices was sent to bring it out and it wouldn't start so a magic box was found to give it aa bit of extra lift.
"It'll be fine when you get it home; it just needs a bit of extra charge in the battery," we were told. I still have Jamie's car so I took that to my Writing Group on Friday and when Marilyn tried to take ours out on Friday afternoon, there was no flicker of life. I rang the RACT on Saturday morning, a fellow arrived to help and we decided that, after eight years, it deserved a new battery. Now, all is well.
It's Put the Clocks Back Day in Tasmania and I hate it. Our phones look after themselves but I still have to deal with my bedside clock, the one on the wall (which is a particular pain as it has to be disassembled into several pieces and then re-built before it goes back on the wall) and no less than six wristwatches. I've always liked watches and, over the years, have gathered a little collection. Most of them lie in my Watch Display Watch without batteries but there are still too many which are operational, including the nice Jag watch which Jamie and Nera gave me for my birthday.
Once upon a time I would always have to re-program the VCR on this day but that particular piece of equipment seems to have been consigned to history.
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