Day is planned out, as I am less panicked re my Grams, thusly:
Sleep in. Get up to church bells at 1000. Drive up to Otaki for a bit of shopping. On my way home, drop in and visit Grams. Stroll to the pub just after 2pm to watch Anderson Silva kick a**s.
What really happens on Sunday:
Sleep in. Get up to church bells at 1000. Drive up Waikanae, where I notice my tyre is making a rather ominous noise, and pull over. Send a text involving several cuss-words to my friend, at discovery of rather flat rubber-like wheel covering, which looks like it could possibly have once been a fully inflated tyre. Dear friend was appropriately sympathetic. Call AA. They are very good, and send someone out to me rather swiftly. Instagram said flat tyre and play on FB while waiting. Lucky I was somewhere with cell reception!!!! Get told by AA dude that I could inflate my tyre with the foamy stuff provided by my car manufacturer, however it will seriously destroy my tyre, and recommends I get a tow back home, and pay for a repair instead. Bless him. Concur with his assessment, and wait for another hour before tow dude turns up. Only place open and serving food (not into fish and chips) as it is a Sunday is the pizza establishment. Order a margherita. It was a’ight, better than expected in the wops on a Sunday! Thanks team! As the weather is sub-optimal, and there is nothing to see in Waikanae of a Sunday, I head back to my beloved car. Nice and warm, music, reading material. Not bad at all. Tow dude turns up and asks why I don’t have a spare tyre. Dude. Look at my car. It’s a fricken cabriolet. It’s tiny. It’s fast. A tyre would slow it down, and take up precious room in the boot, currently used for housing the roof in good weather. Anyway. Jump in the cab with the tow truck driver and head back home. Turns out, he’s the first AA dude’s dad and he’s happy working for his son! How lovely! Have a grand old chat with him on the way back in to town. As we drive past Grams’ new hospital, am tempted to ask him to just drop me off there, but not sure how to deal with Tallulah (my beloved car) in that instance. Get home. Thank the lovely driver and drag my less than stoked a**s back to my flat. It’s 1430. Have I missed the fight as well??!?!?!!!?
Turns out I haven’t! yusssss! Still time for Anderson to kick Chris’ behind! Gather up my flattie’s little brother who has been staying with us for a week, and rock down to the pub to meet my bff and her bf, to watch it together. Watch another fight, then Anderson is on! Lets just say that while my bff and I were laughing when Anderson was playing with the kid, I had an ominous feeling that it was not going to end well. When Chris Weidman knocked Anderson out cold, I can’t say I was surprised. Disappointed, yes. Surprised, no. That’s what happens when you disrespect the cage and your opponent. No matter how good you are. I have a suspicion that he was either paid, or wanted to retire. No-one spends as long as he fighting in the cage and acts a fool for no good reason. I could go on, but it ain’t worth it.
Do you know what? Even though I was less than thrilled with the way my day ended up, and I was gutted I didn’t get to see my Grams, it didn’t put me in a sh*tty mood. I didn’t get all morose. I made the best of it, and enjoyed the day regardless. I didn’t get to go shopping – saved money. My tyre is punctured and had to spend hours in the wops – nice pizza, warm car, time to myself, helpful AA peeps. Tow back to town – nice tow driver chap. Missed my Grams – only bad thing! Missed the first few fights – made the main event. Anderson didn’t win – it was a good fight, with a lot to be learnt. I know some folks may have chucked a tanty at any one of those things, but you know what? Life is fricken good. I’d really rather just be happy and cruise along.