They say bad things happen in threes

Well Tigger and me really put that to the test this morning. Let me explain ….

… Today is the first day of our hand-over session. We have spent the past couple of weeks herding cats in an attempt to get this damned thing arranged and we must run the meeting so that the Delivery Guys understand what they are supposed to be doing.  The session was scheduled to start at ten o’clock in a Hampshire town that has nothing famous to brag about. *

I dutifully hauled my sorry arse out of bed at five thirty**, performed ablutions and got in the Defender to drive over to Tigger’s house. The plan was to drive down in Tigger’s car. I arrived at the hollowed out volcano to find Tigger outside shouting “Fuck” repeatedly at his car. On enquiring as to the nature of the problem he said “Fuck” some more and then advised that his immobilizer was working rather too well. This was obviously Bad Thing #1 and we rapidly decided that the Defender would be the car of choice to travel down to sunny Hampshire – problem solved.

As I loaded Tigger’s bag in to the capacious rear I had a moment of self doubt. This rapidly turned in to another “Oh Fuck” moment as a quick check revealed that, in the early morning rush, I had managed to leave my wallet thirty miles away on top of the microwave. I said “Fuck” a few more times and considered going back to get it but that would totally screw our start time. This was obviously Bad Thing #2. Tigger did the honourable thing and offered to fund my trip on his corporate card and I could sort refunds out when we got home – problem solved.

So off we started towards our destination and had a quite delightful trip across the Cotswolds. After a while we hit the M4 and then the M3 and I noticed a sign for our destination. I mentioned this to Tigger who was in the Navigator’s seat. He calmly said that we were fine on the Motorway and should not turn off. I followed his instructions as I was unfamiliar with the route but got very concerned when I recognised a roundabout and remonstrated that we were headed for an entirely different Circle of Hell to the one we were supposed to be at. This was obviously Bad Thing #3. Tigger then said “Fuck” some more and then put the correct location in to the Satellite Navigation app. We had gone about 20 miles out of our way but had plenty of time in reserve so wouldn’t be late – problem solved.

Now some people might think, that after that start, the day would have been a nightmare but we arrived in plenty of time, our Agenda was good and our presentations were well received. To be honest it couldn’t really have gone any better and by 4.30 were had finished the first day’s session and were headed back to the hotel.

Yes – this might be the start of Bad Thing #4. It was very hot, we were very tired and we had all managed to persuade the hotel receptionist that we were worthy of complimentary drinks vouchers. I did have to do the Shrek Cat Face as part of my plea but I did get a free pint of Stella. The more I think about this the less I remember but apparently we did have a very funny night and a great Thai meal and did stay up until two o’clock in the morning.

I did some subtle checking and there was no suggestion that I committed any crimes as I do have a tendency to get a little over excited when I’m drunk.

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* We Googled it and it really does have nothing of interest to see and nothing of interest has ever happened there. That probably makes it unique in the British Isles and I may mention that to the town council. They might like to use it in their next “Come to Best Soaking***” Town Promotional material.

** Please make a mental note of this early hour as it may help explain later events

*** This is an anagram