I seem to have
become a bit of a wuss since The Menopause.
I used to be
confident about doing all sorts of things: DIY, rewiring plugs, getting rid of
computer viruses, going to the loo in unfamiliar cafés without wandering into
the broom cupboard by mistake (ok, that’s not true – I’ve always had problems
there) and changing the car battery.
Not any longer. I
have become a jittery lily-livered wimp of a woman, too scared to do anything
in case I inadvertently die.
My car battery did
die, on the other hand, about a month ago. It didn’t help that I’d left the
warning lights on for three days but it was getting a tad menopausal itself, so
I needed a new one.
And suddenly, I
felt overwhelmed by the task. I watched videos, studied websites, wrote down a
list of appropriate tools and procrastinated admirably until finally, today, I
set off to the second-nearest supermarket to buy a new battery.
Oh boy, was it
heavy! I had to put it down every ten steps and change arms before they were
wrenched from their sockets. It was going to take me forever to get home…
“Oh Lord,” I said, “Please send someone to
help!”
And He did. Immediately.
A car stopped and a
total stranger leaned out of the window and asked if I wanted a lift. Now, I no
longer get into cars with total strangers (that’s all in my past) but my arms
didn’t seem to be working properly anymore so I had little choice.
Not only did this
kind man go out of his way to take me home, he also offered to change the
battery for me, improvising with the inappropriate (as it turned out) tools I’d
just bought. It was a long job.
His name is Ahmed. I
told him he was the answer to my prayer; he told me it was Destiny as he doesn’t usually take the
route he took today but did so on a whim. We had a brief theological discussion
beneath the bonnet and parted ways.
So although you won’t
read this, thank you lovely Ahmed.
And yes, girls. The
Taxi Service is back in action…
