Growling at the badger

When I saw the low form of a badger appear in the headlights late on Wednesday night little did I realise the extent to which the mighty Liverpool Victoria insurance company were about to start ruling my life. Badgers, I have now discovered, are substantially bigger and heavier than you might think, and the somewhat louder impact than I was expecting was followed shortly afterwards by a barrage of beeping and flashing lights from the car telling me that I needed to check the coolant level.

This did not sound good and rather suggested significant damage to the car. Fortunately I was only about a mile from home and managed to make it back. On inspection the next morning it turned out that one of the radiator hoses had been torn off by the impact and damaged. Other than that some expensive looking bits of plastic were mangled and I figured a call to the insurers was in order.

"They are the in things to hit at the moment." said the girl on the claims desk. "They're heavy things to hit." said the girls on the repair desk. "Is the badger alright?" said the next one I spoke to. "The badger's fine. It's in Badger Heaven - just my car is in bits."

That was on Thursday morning. As I write this late on Friday night my car is still in bits on the drive and I'm told I should have a replacement car on Monday - should. Of course, we should be able to live without cars. But when you live in the country and your children live seventy miles away it's easier said than done. The X64 bus will occassionally take you into sunny Stoke on Trent but there is no guarantee that it will bring you back again and that's about it.

So - dear Patrick and Philippa. I'm sitting here writing this in bed when I should be with you. I miss you both very much and one way and another, despite having friends like Liverpool Victoria somehow or other I will get to see you this week. Dad.