Everything was looking peachy, bikes, money, good job, etc.
Then I got a call off Lisa, saying dad had been found, presumed dead. He managed to shrug the whole death thing off, then the report was he was paralysed. Luckily nobody told my dad so he kept on shuffling along. The upshot was he was hospitalised. Lisa flew over to be with him as he died. But then he refused to die and she was stuck over there. She had a holiday booked so I said I’d cover looking after dad for a week. It wasn’t something to which I looked forward with any joy. He has a lot wrong with him and he’s literally just skin and bone.
Anyway, I got home from work on the last day before my emergency holiday and the postie had delivered this week’s mail. Amongst them were several from the DVLA. Yup. They’ve suspended my vocational licences. Incredible. The other letter was my new licence with just car and bike entitlement. I had to ring work straight away and tell them I couldn’t work any more.
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