AFTER a short burst of R&R I flew back into Ronaldsway and took a taxi back to the bijou residence where my car, my trusty Mini One convertible, was outside as usual. I went in to sort through the mail. It included a hand-written note which had obviously been delivered personally.
It read: ‘Unfortunately my wife reversed into your Mini at 9.45 am today. The ball hitch on her car did a lot of damage. I have spoken to Mr Dale of Dale and Colvin and I am getting him organised to have your car fixed. I do apologise for this and clearly we will have the job done as new at no cost to you.’
I went out to look at the Mini. It was damaged all right. In the offside rear corner there was a bloody great big jagged hole.
This kind of thing does happen. But it’s not often that people own up and offer to pay all the cost of repairs when all they had to do was a runner. Their own vehicle could have suffered no damage. The ball hitch, used for towing a boat, had been the weapon used. This was in my mind as I pondered the situation and it was the moment when the Unworthy Thought manifested itself. If these people were going to pay the bill what other items of minor scrapes and scratches on my Mini could be included in the repair work without their knowledge?
I stalked round it and sure enough there was a scrape on the nearside rear end. I was quids in . . .
The black cloud of guilt descended in the early hours of the following morning as I lay in bed, not a good time for a rampant conscience. I realised that I was out to try and cheat a truly decent couple of people. I was an unprincipled predator. I was going to try and take advantage of two innocent paragons of virtue living in a cruel world of every man for himself. I was not fit for the society of decent motorists.
I couldn’t do it.
When I took the car to Mr Dale and he was looking at the damage caused by the lady I pointed out the scratches on the other side. ‘These people are not responsible for that,’ I said. ‘That had already been done. They don’t need to pay for it. Give me a separate bill for that please.’
Mt Dale shook his head. ‘It’s fine,’ he said. ‘Both bits of damage are in the bumper unit and this is having to be replaced completely. We’ve already got the new one ready for fixing on. Don’t worry. There is no separate bill necessary.’
Suddenly it had all worked itself out nicely.
The following evening the nice couple called at the bijou residence. They wanted to make further fulsome apologies and they presented me with a bottle of champagne. They were such kindly folk. The big black cloud of guilt descended again.
Of course I could assuage my remorse completely by going to see them to confess my attempted treachery and demand that I should pay the bill, not them.
I’m still giving it some thought.
l BACK to that Ramsey pub with that sign.
John Garfield tells me: ‘My wife Julia informs me she first saw it on the Plough a number of years ago.’ Mark Corkill backs her up and says I should call in. ‘If mine host is in residence and you say the ginger princess sent you there could be a half of guest waiting for you’
I know what a half of guest is. But the ginger princess?
