Manic Kitty

Well today was fun.

I thought the car was doing well on petrol. 400 miles, the gauge down at empty for days, but the little light never came on and I thought it might just be a quirk of the car.

Driving home from work, and it started chugging. I managed to coast along, out of the countryside, back to an area with houses, so close to home, but there's a distinct lack of hills in these parts, they're gentle slopes, so the car eventually stopped rolling, leaving me double parked on some yellow lines, about half a mile from home.

Bugger!

A car had just pulled into a drive behind me, so I went to explain my problem and ask if I could borrow a phone (the Law of Murphy ensured that mine had run out of batteries.)

The Kind Gentleman agreed, but there was no help at home, so the Kind Gentleman tried to help me move the car somewhere safer so I could walk to the petrol station. We couldn't move the car (silly kerbs), so he went off to fetch the Kind Sir he was visiting for some extra help.

Kind Sir arrived, I was suitable embarrassed, grateful, and explained my problem (new car, petrol light not working, didn't realize, very sorry.) Kind Sir told me he had a can of petrol which I could have so long as I replaced it. A very very happy and grateful me said I certainly would, I'd go straight to the petrol station and fill it back up for him.

So the Kind Sir fetched the petrol, and returned to his meeting (which I'd interrupted,) and the Kind Gentleman came with me to sort out my car. He did all the petrolly things himself, being a Kind Gentleman he wouldn't allow me to, even though he was in his suit, and I was in my scruffy work clothes (I'd been clearing out garages and filling skips at work,) so I felt doubly bad when he splashed petrol on his tie. I told the Kind Gentleman where I lived, and that I'd return as soon as possible with the replacement for the Kind Sirs petrol.

It was at this point that the Kind Gentleman informed me that the Kind Sir really was a Kind Sir. A Peer of the Realm Kind Sir. A Knight of the Garter Kind Sir.

I'd been rescued by a proper bonefide Knight!

He didn't have shining armour, or a white steed, he'd have stuck out like a sore thumb if he had, and I would have thought someone was taking the mick, but he was a real Knight and he rescued me. How many people can say that?