There was a hole in Smackbottom Road* just before the turn-off to our street. It only appeared a few days ago. In the hole there were a couple of manhole covers. These didn’t help the bumps, as cars went up and down while driving through it. Mirinda was drawn to it like the proverbial moth. Poor Max was feeling it every time we drove home.
The hole only appeared last week. Possibly the almost constant rain had created it or unusually high levels of big traffic. I don’t know how or why but, today, it was fixed. As I returned from Trosa centrum, trolley in tow, a big truck was there with a worker, armed with a shovel, clearing away the loose gravel. Then, later in the day, a tar delivery vehicle was there, filling the hole.
Being a Wednesday, and trying to maintain a regular shopping schedule, I’d gone to the Coop and, obviously, the System. The town was markedly different to Market Day Sunday.
Actually, while the Coop was pretty empty, the System seemed full of old men, like me, grabbing their basket loads of booze. Mind you, it wasn’t particularly pleasant with the building works having moved to the side wall of the shop. I found it annoying for the five minutes I was in there, so it must be awful for the people who work in it all day.
Sadly, my usual café was closed so I popped into Mekka on the way back for a lovely latte before heading back home.
I made a second trip into the centrum later in the day. Mirinda wanted to scope out a few things and I said I’d like to go with her so we all hopped into Max for the trip back into town. I sat with the girls while Mirinda went wandering into the bookshop.
The day was a delight of doing almost nothing, but quickly changed when one of the toilet seats in the house decided to fall off the toilet. Unfortunately, Mirinda was sitting on it at the time. There was a god awful clatter and bang as it fell to the bathroom floor. That made two, as the other toilet in the main house also has a badly attached seat.
Tomorrow looks like featuring a trip to Nyköping so we can buy a new seat. It’s a long way but I can’t find anything closer. Mind you, we also have to pick up a small table for the guest house so two birds and all that.
* It’s not actually called Smackbottom Road, but the name looks enough like it for us to call it that.
