Jane writes a humorous sketch about 'IT' which, as we know, hovers over
us all!
'IT' COMES IN THREES
BY
JANE LEITCH
"It" comes in threes. That's what worries me, as I've had two already. What's
lurking
round the corner, I ask myself?
Since I have to blame someone, [it's never your own fault, is it?] I'll
lay it on John
Robbie. He was asking for stories from listeners about experiences with
the tow-truck
brigade who lie waiting for "it" to happen. We've all come across them,
have we not?
None of the callers had a good word to say about them, and that is being
kind.
Adjectives flowed, one worse than the other, until one man told a good story.
When
his daughter's car caught fire, she was trying to open the bonnet, which
was
definitely not the correct thing to do. One of "them" rushed over and pushed
her out
of the way saving her from what could have been a disaster. Maybe the demons
have a good side after all. But no one wanted to hear that; this was negative
radio all
the way and so the calls continued.
My own experience was lame in comparison. After years of driving pretty
close to the
wind, I had a series of prangs, some worse than others, ending with a complete
write-off. As soon as the collision happened, they appeared like vultures
from
nowhere, and agreed to take my battered jalopy to the garage nominated.
"What car?" asked the panel beater when I phoned for a quote. It transpired
that the
gentlemen of the road had taken it to one of their "own" garages. The explanation?
"You'll need three quotes, so we took it to ours first," left me speechless.
I couldn't believe my ears, but that was tame to what I heard on the radio
that day.
I thought I might call in sometime and give them my story, but in the meantime
driving to the parking lot at work, I was hemmed in by a BMW lady who stopped
at
every opportunity to see if any parking was free, totally oblivious of a
very irritated me
behind her, already on the late side. Stop, start, stop, start, I nearly
had a cadenza.
She even did it at my parking bay, leaving me a very limited space in which
to swing
into the bay, or so I thought. Alas, the pole and I made contact with a
searing
crunch. The BMW drove off totally oblivious to the fact.
Much grinding later I managed to dislodge my little Corsa which up till
then had only
one bump on the bonnet, acquired while reading a map at the red lights without
applying my handbrake! The gentleman in front of me was not impressed, but
there
was no damage to his wife's vehicle, which he examined with a magnifying
glass.
Yes, really!
I decided that the talk of the tow truck guys had put me in a frame of mind
and that
the altercation with the pole [completely my own fault] was the result of
same, and so
I'm putting put the blame on JR!
Number Two: Lunching on Sat on our little veranda I noticed water seeping
up
through the grass. This definitely not kosher. That was the last of a peaceful
weekend. The clivias which I have grown for the first time ever and which
thankfully
had finished flowering had to be dug out. Paving had to be lifted, a hole
big enough
to bury a body dug to find the offending pipe – it was playing hard to get.
Shasta
daisies, and arum lilies now lie under mounds of soil, and the planned weekend
of
reading and sunbathing in peace and quiet was ruined.
The leak has finally been fixed, but to get my little garden back to its
former glory will
take a bit longer.
It's all a myth that troubles come in threes - isn't it?
I keep telling myself so, but inside the little voice has me under its control.
"Watch
this," "Be careful of that," and as for driving, I have eyes in the back
of my head in
anticipation.
I just wish that whatever "it" is would get on with it … The suspense is
killing me.