I’ve found to my cost before that Ruby is a jealous girl.
Now it may be that the dropping of a media bomb at 9.52 this morning, which required me to drop everything else, slap the Emergency PR beacon onto my desktop and run around like a blue-arsed fly for the rest of the day, was a complete coincidence and nothing to do with the fact that I declared on Facebook last night that I intended to head up to Hayfield this evening by car (via a work conference in Manchester).
I’m sure Ruby had no interest at all in the fact that, since dealing with the issue pushed all the stuff I was going to do today back into the pile marked “tomorrow’s problem,” neatly requiring me to be in the office tomorrow not in Manchester, I will need to scorch up the country on Friday afternoon in order to reach The Sportsman in time for my dinner.
And lovely as my 2CV is, “scorch” is not in her vocabulary in the same way that it is in Ruby’s.
We think we are evolved into independent thinking humans. What we actually are is a detachable opposeable thumb for Bavarian twin-cylinder manipulatrixes. When she learns to pay for her own petrol I’ll be toast…..