Forwards and occasionally sidewards – everyday musings of life

As I loaded the heavy toolbox into the car, a depressing thought struck me: hauling my tools in and out of the shed is becoming a bad habit I desperately need to break. Today’s mission was a trip to the village hall to fit a significantly larger key safe.

The village hall is a charmingly older building with doors and locking mechanisms dating back to medieval times (I exaggerate slightly, but only slightly). The keys are the sort you’d expect to see hanging from a Victorian jailer’s belt, rather than fitting a modern Yale lock—which was the fatal flaw of the delicate key safe I fitted just last week. As I held the new replacement, I wondered if the front wall was structurally sound enough to support it. This box wouldn’t look out of place mounted outside the Tower of London.

Despite my doubts, the operation was a total success. The giant key safe was securely installed without toppling the front of the building; I met with the Church Warden to discuss trimming back some overhanging trees; I assessed how we could clear out the stage area for an incoming dance class; and I caught up with one of our regular hirers. Feeling thoroughly satisfied with my morning’s Chairman duties, I packed up the car and prepared to head home.

Admittedly, I may have over-catered on the sheer volume of tools required for a simple key-safe installation. However, I’m fairly certain the excess weight wasn’t the reason the Porsche Cayenne’s engine management light suddenly flashed on. I limped home in full-blown, low-power ‘limp mode’.

For some absurd reason, I held out hope that simply unloading the tools from the boot upon arrival would magically extinguish the warning light. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t. The car was genuinely sick, and this was one job my trusty socket set couldn’t fix.

To make matters worse, I had a long-awaited coaching trip to London scheduled for tomorrow morning. I needed to enact Plan B. First, though, I actually needed to invent a Plan B. It was time to take the dogs out.

Some of the world’s greatest geopolitical and personal crises have been solved on dog walks—golf courses have a similar therapeutic effect. Sure enough, as we marched through the countryside, the fresh air cleared my head, brought some logic back into the equation, and helped me map out both a Plan B and a Plan C.

One way or another, I was going to make that London table tennis session I’d been looking forward to all month.