It's been a very traumatic day for me today. I am not the world's greatest when it comes to parting with wads of £20 notes.
When I bough Miranda she came with a full Mercedes Benz service history. No one other than Mercedes main dealerships had laid a finger on her. It's 12 months since her last proper service. The place we bought her from had put a stamp in the book for an oil change, but I've no idea if they actually did the work, or just topped her up.
One quick glance at her last service bill from Sinclair had my eyes watering and it was very quickly decided that as she was no longer strutting her stuff around our fine country's capital city, her "aires and graces" would have to be kicked into touch and she would have to aclimatise herself to earning her living on the streets of Carmarthenshire - which is directly adjacent to Cardiganshire, and we all know how tight they are.
Miranda is no longer a city slicker and has to earn her living hauling our caravan around the UK, so with the longer hauls of the summer holidays looming she was booked into PC for him to feel her bumps and oil bits that needed oiling. I trust the man and his mechanics implicitly, and he knows he has an open book with me - if it needs doing he does it.
With a full service carried out I was told that she is mechanically sound, the brakes are in good order, and the auto box is a sealed for life unit so in theory does not need servicing. Happy days, I thought to myself.
Then came the but. Quite a significant but as it happens. With a glint in his eye, one of PC's finest announces that Miranda needs new tyres. "How many?", I ask with than sinking feeling. "Just the four!", he says before returning to the dark shadows of the workshop.
Now, there is no hiding from the fact that Miranda has big feet. Boots for big feet are expensive.
The tyres were ordered in, and I returned this morning for them to be fitted. Open wallet surgery followed, and I am still somewhat distraught. A full service AND 4 new tyres in one go. Mun!!!!