Ghasted flabber as the party unravels in the south of Mahe

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It was probably some divine retribution. After debasing ourselves at the karaoke, the other one and I headed outside whereupon the other once glancing at the car discovered... Do I have to spell it out?

A BLEEDIN FLAT TYRE.

THREE, THREE??! IN AS MANY WEEKS.

I took myself to the nice happy land of public transport again while the other one huffed and puffed trying to change the wheel. Unable to jack the car up properly, help was proffered along with the discovery that the problem with the jack was that it wasn't under a bit of the car that was metal so couldn't get a grip. Good to know.

Silent prayer sent up to car saint for no flat tyre on the drive home, having no tyre to spare.

www.paradisepromised.wordpress.com

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