The other day I jumped in the car to drive the two miles to town. I’d not driven far down the road when I noticed the irritating light on the dashboard warning me of low fuel. As is normal with most cars now, Nanny had to go further and tell me how many miles I had before I came to a halt. It was less than I’d ever seen before…

The yellow light’s a-flashing,
It’s warning me to fill,
I’ve ignored its plea all week,
Now I’m feeling ill.
The pump’s another mile,
I’m pleading with the Gods!
“I won’t do this again,”
That should shorten odds!

Will I reach the pump?
Have I got my card?
Pushing this old beast by hand,
Impossible not hard.
I am getting closer,
I begin to sweat,
There are cars on the roundabout,
I’m nowhere safe, not yet!

At last I’m near the forecourt,
Waiting in a queue,
I clasp my hands in prayer,
There’s nothing else to do!
At last I’m at the pumps,
It starts to spot with rain,
It takes over seventy litres!
I’ll never do this again!
(… well, not until the next time anyway!)

© Baldock Bard 2013
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