New Year new me?

Well that’s what Dad is hoping for anyway.

And preferably a new me who isn’t in his house.

The Christmas and new year were brilliant actually, despite still being under the folk’s roof.

I don’t have a hangover today, largely because we actually had a lovely night at home as a family. Dad’s brother Rex came over and he’s far cooler than dad. I know that’s harsh, but even dad would admit it. Rex knows all the good bands, watches the cool films, has had gorgeous girlfriends (actually there’s something telling there too – Rex has no money whereas dad seems to have loads).

We watched Lana Del Ray’s 10 minute video called Ride, which then led him to telling me to see Ride, the film, which is on Tv on Friday night – I’ll be sitting there ready.

Then we watched this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=VOenDrFIj8Y

And now I want to find a 300D Mercedes.

Mercedes-Benz-300D_Turbodiesel-1985-1600-02

There are far fewer of them out there than I expected. But I was thinking that if I can find a good one that has been for sale for an age I could maybe put in a low offer, sort out any issues it has, and then advertise it again. I got totally carried away with this thought last night.

Look at this one I saw on Google images – the trouble is if I had something like that I don’t think I’d want to sell it on.

When I delivered the older coupe for Jon a few weeks back I fell in love with that too. There’s definitely something very different about old Mercedes Benz that has captivated me, they even seem to smell different.

Anyway, I’ve looked at a load of sites over the last couple of hours and I have seen one in Limerick in Ireland that has been advertised for ages – I’m not linking to it here in case Jon’s reading (not really Jon, I’ll need your advice on this).

What this space dudes.

What’s next? I need more work.

Bugga.

Just as I was getting a bit more confident the work seems to have dried up again.

I sorted the three visas for the fellow, well, it’s underway anyway, and he wants to meet me next time he’s in the north, but he didn’t say when.

And the guy in Penzance was beside himself with joy when I swung into his nice drive with the Mercedes coupe. He even took me for lunch in this place called Tremenheere Sculpture Gardens – I really liked this strange and simple sculpture,Iron man and then I met the guy who made it. He was a true Cornish giant at a full seven feet tall, yet posh, and quite gentle too.

I told him (the buyer, not the sculptor) that I was hitching back and if he’d like to drop me at a good lay-by then I’d be delighted. He was shocked and even offered to pay for my train fare – but I explained my scheme to get a few more pennies out of the job, and he seemed to appreciate my approach.

So that was a great job. But the work has dried up since.

I don’t blow my cash though. In fact I haven’t touched the money from the drive, not even what I saved by hitching back. It was an easy hitch too. Three pick ups, and dropped a mile or so from home.

I should ask dad if I can do more for him, but there’s something that stops me every time. Well, it’s no mystery, it’s the fact that he doesn’t like me much, and that leaves me less than loving towards him.

Hey ho. Maybe the new year will bring new opportunities.

Days Inn

Days Inn is far from luxury.

But it does a job and does it good enough for people to keep going back to them.

I’m sitting in one right now – an executive room no less! But I wouldn’t be here if I was an executive, it’s pretty blinking basic.

Tomorrow morning I have to be in Penzance at 10.00am to deliver the lovely old yellow Merc Coupe that I brought back up to Manchester last month. The fellow who has bought it has a little company of Cornish luxury self catering properties almost down at Lands End, and he fancies having the car subtly branded to attract a bit more attention for the business.

The car is parked right outside of my window, and even though it’s not a fast car, I have so completely fallen in love with it. It has a 2.8 litre straight six and a lazy automatic box that makes a beautiful smooth combination. Slow electric windows all round. Electric sunroof. A great modern bluetooth sound system, but old covers on the speakers and a cassette deck in the dash. Th modern kit hides behind it all. Nice touch!

Being yellow it attracts some attention and I’d love to pretend it’s mine.

After I have dropped it off it’s up to me how I get home. I’m paid whatever the standard train fare is, and then if I choose to risk hitch hiking then I get to pocket the cash. And my Days Inn room is paid for as well.

I’m going to leave at 6.30, dash down to Cullompton Services which is just outside Exeter and there’s a MacDonald’s there where I’ll have breakfast, then cruise the last 120 miles down to meet the man.

I’ll be sad to let this one go.

 

The inspector seems to be gradually becoming something of an odd job man.

Most of what I have been doing over the past few weeks has been related to driving in some form or other, whether it’s getting dad’s clients around the country, or delivering and collecting flash, but ageing cars.

But now there’s something different on the cards for me.

It turns out the chap I picked up for dad quite liked me and thought I might be an enterprising fellow (although I’m flattered, I don’t actually think that’s the case, but hey, I don’t want to disillusion him).

He has asked if I could look into getting visas for some people he wants to have come and work in the UK from his factory in Malaysia.

When I first heard this it wasn’t dad who told me, it was one of his team, and I thought it was a wind up. But that evening (back on Wednesday it was, I remember because mum made a great spaghetti Bolognese which is my favourite dinner) the old man started telling me that he had a job for me, and the cogs started slotting into place. I did some digging around online and found a company called IXP Visas who seem to have an amazing reputation for advising their clients on what to do. I need to source three at the moment, but if that goes well dad suggested that there could be more work from the chap. He’s based down in Oxford, so I have no idea why he is interested in me, but what the hell, if it helps me find more work then I’m game for giving it a try.

Watch this space. The inspector could soon be your man to go to when you need something moving from here to there, whether that thing is a car, or a person. That sounds like it could be a little sinister, but I don’t mean it in that way.

Egg nog!

Mum and dad have a couple of American friends who live around the corner from us. I’ve no idea how they came to know each other but they are a decent couple.

I particularly like them because they seem genuinely interested in what I have to say as well as mum and dad, and while my parents treat me like I’m some kind of drop out, these people actually remember what I talk about, and don’t seem to judge me.

I get the feeling that money isn’t anything that they have to worry about, they live in a huge house, and seem to fly back to the states regularly just because they fancy it, or because one of their kids wants to see their friends.

Anyway, enough background. They throw a party now and then, last year it was Thanksgiving and we had, or they had, a great adult party with two huge turkeys, gorgeous sweetcorn chowder, and lashings of wine. Everyone got completely plastered and drank through until after 3am, and they didn’t give a hoot about me getting pissed.

Last night they had an egg nog party!

What the hell is that you may well ask.

Well the woman loves cooking and she creates this amazing cocktail called egg nog and from what I understand it’s a sort of runny warm custard that is then laced with brandy and sprinkled with cinnamon and other sweet spices and whipped into a sort of Heston foam.

All that bit I’m not sure about, but I do know that the end result is completely delicious.

We didn’t drink as much last night as the noggy stuff isn’t that strong, but what we lacked in alcohol we made up for by being starving hungry, that is until we all went en masse to the Village Tandori for kebabs. They might not have been heaven in a nan bread, but they certainly tasted like it at the time.

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