1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186 
Its ALL urgent!
Page 9
If you've noticed an error in this article please click here to report it so we can fix it.
As L Radley points out, long-distance drivers find little time for... well, almost anything.
It's approaching lhal time on a Sunday evening when I start to think about getting my head down, and I decide to check my deadline list for this column to confirm that I don't have to write it until next weekend. I'm wrong. I have to write it NOW. My other half has nipped out to pick up the lodger from 40 miles away, the two-year-old is overtired and yelling, the five-year-old is clamouring for me to sort out her bath, the dog needs his medication sorting, my kit's spread all over the shop and the house is a tip.
This is pretty much situation normal, I'm out on the road all week, so anything that needs doing has to be done at the weekend. If I remember. Which I generally don't until I get approximately 60 miles away from the yard.
We have a very nice and very expensive new kitchen. Shame about the tattered and peeling wallpaper which can be found just above the carefully hand-picked mosaic tile splashback. It'll get sorted — probably in the back end of 2008.
I'm the proud owner of a 1967 Land Rover, the purchase of which was justified by its tax exemption and ability to transport me to work at Sam on a Monday morning. One of these days I'll get around to fixing it (or at least putting the tools away after it broke down last time).
The books are taking over the house and the bookshelves are taking root in the shed. The replacement foot-section of our marital bed is residing under it, as it has done since it was delivered to our previous house two years ago. The vegetable patch I was so keen to start in the garden is still in seed packets at the garden centre. In my defence, the toilet seat is now fixed so we don't all go flying every time we try to sit on it. Fixed, that is, by the other half. But I did do the reminding...
If your average distance driver seems a little ropey first thing on a Monday, trust me, it's guilt at the never-ending failure to accomplish everything on the chore list. Along with panic over all the stuff which has reached 'urgent' status and is still not done. Pepper that with fear of the inevitable phone call when the previous two facts are discovered by the family and a dash of disbelief that we got ourselves into this situation in the first place, and you can see why the question "How are you getting on?" doesn't always earn a coherent response.
Bear with us. We'll get there. At some point.
"If a distance driver seems a little ropey first thing in the morning, ifs guilt at the never-ending failure to do everything on the chore list"