There were no suitable wedding outfits in the Traffic Centre, it was shit. I'd had a massive row with somebody from Tax Credits just before I set out when they rang and I discovered that they weren't going to write-off the rest of the overpayment I've been paying back for ten years because "rules have changed now" and I'll actually be repaying it until I'm 89 years old (so I wasn't in the best mood)! We had some dinner in a Tavern Fayre which was nice enough then we decided to call it a day and drive home. I thought I'd found a sneaky shortcut back to the motorway but it sent me down the motorway in the opposite direction we needed to go so I had to drive back to the Trafford Centre and start again. My car then overheated as I got off the motorway going back to my mum's house. Pootling along Millionaire's Row at Worsley and suddenly every light on the dashboard was flashing, big sign flashing in my face "Engine overheating! Turn off engine now!" and a shrieking nee-naw siren inside the car which was more stressful than anything else going on. The only place I could pull over was into RHS Bridgewater and I ended up on some dirt track meant for staff and volunteers only. Cutting a very long and fretful story short a lovely lady in the shop filled two four-pint milk bottles with tap water for me and we were able to get home. So my car is also fucked but my mechanic will have a look on Monday morning if I pop in before work.
It made me wonder whether the whole shitty day was my dad punishing me for something from on high.
