Reading
RedLeader's post about his car trouble made me want to post/vent about how situations in life inspire you to drink or abuse your drug of choice.
This post might be long and/or boring
September
I get a letter from the DVLA, a massive government agency based in Swansea who deal with vehicle licensing/speeding/bans across the whole of the UK. I had been told earlier in the year by my doctor to declare that I had a drink problem so I did and they wrote to me telling me to surrender my license for a year.
My car tax ran out that month so I though't I'd hold onto my licence until I sorted that out, then send it to the DVLA. I'd bought a really sexy SAAB from a dealer up in Newcastle in April. I went on the DVLA website to find out what I needed to renew my tax and realised I'd never owned a registration certificate for my new car. I went through all my paperwork and checked in the car. No registration certifice. I called up the dealer and they said that they had notified the DVLA when they sold me the car and if I hadn't received my registration docs it was out of their hands.
I printed out the forms for a lost/stolen registration certificate and sent them off to the DVLA together with cheques for re-registering/6 months tax. All-in it was about 100 pounds.
Nearly 4 weeks later
Recieved my cheques/forms back from DVLA saying that they no longer process registration certificates or car tax. Registration was done via a local DVLO and car tax is handled at my local post office.
This is probably the biggest civil service department in the UK and they can't even be arsed to sort out their website and keep it up to date.
All the while I'm wondering if I'll get into trouble holding onto my license when I should be handing it in.
I check online for local licensing offices and the nearest to me are in Reading and Bristol.
Few days ago
Good news at work. I've got Friday off, which is also payday. I was skint in October and will be skint in November too. This is due to the fact that I spent a fuckload in the summer with a girl I met at AA and we're no longer speaking. I'm still emotionally really fucked up from that. So I think "sort out your car in Bristol on Friday then it's all legit then concentrate on sorting out the drinking thing".
Friday morning
Hadn't drank for a couple of days. Been hitting the gym and getting slim, alternating between arms/back/legs and drinking protein shakes. Doing all the good stuff.
It was a crisp, sunny winter morning and I woke up sober and feeling good. My stupid man-brain thought "why not dress to impress, might meet a sexy girl on the train to Bristol". I put on a nice pair of jeans I got from Zara, my best, foppish shoes that cost me 110 pounds in Newcastle last year and a really sweet creamy coloured shirt that I got from somewhere Oop North a while ago that has like a faded flowery pattern all over it and black Diesel military style jacket.
I was dressed for a good day. My general neuroses notwithstanding.
I walked out of camp about a mile to the bus stop, past my really very pretty car which is untaxed and unregistered and got the bus to Salisbury. I walked through Salisbury and got a smoothie. The bus station and train station are at opposite ends of the town.
Got on the train to Bristol, which was only three carriages and sat at a table seat opposite this guy who had mental dificulties/tourettes. I felt a bit awkward about this even though he seemed like a nice bloke but he kept twitching/nudging me and shouting stuff. I decided not to read my paper and sat there with my mp3 player on to blank him out. It sounds bad but he had obvious mental/physical problems and I wasn't sure what to say when he was nodding and grinning at me. So I just looked out of the window listening to tunes.
Train + 45 minutes
Searched on my phone for a postcode and got my wallet out of my arse pocket to write it down. WHile I did this a womand and her kid got on and sat next to me and aforementioned man. If i'd wanted to put my wallet back in my pocket I'd have had to stand up a bit and present my arse to this woman so I just put the piece of paper back in my wallet and, stupidly, put it on my lap and carried on looking out of the window with my mp3 player on, dreaming.
You can see where this is heading, can't you.
Bristol
Immediately after getting off the train I checked my pockets and thought "fuck! My wallet's on the train!". I ran back through the tunell and up onto the platform and saw the back end of the train leaving for Cardiff. Went straight to lost property in the tunnel and the woman there said she'd phone the guard on the train. She couldn't call 'control' cos they were really busy and not answering.
By the time she got in touch with 'control' and got a mobile number for the guard the train was in the Severn Tunnel so the guy on the train had no signal. My wallet had about 60 quid, Army ID card, Driving License, bank card, credit card, return ticket to Salisbury nd return bus ticket in it. I had about 4 pounds in change on me.
The lady in loast property said even if she got in touch and they found my wallet I'd have to wait until the train got to Cardiff and got back to Bristol. It's now about 14:30 on Friday afternoon and the DVLO office closes at 17:00 so I've got no hope of getting my car registered.
Still not thinking about drink at this point as I was confident that they'd find my wallet and I'd get it back. I had a brainwave that I had some old cheques in my bag that I was carrying along with my car registration stuff. If I went to a branch of my bank I'd be able to get some money, I gave the lost property woman my phone number and set off into Bristol from the station.
I walked about 15 minutes from Temple Meads into the city centre and found a branch of my bank. I was feeling really, really pissed off at my own stupidity now and every pub I walked past I wanted to stop in, but didn't have time. I also reasoned with myself that a drink would not make me feel better in the long run. I was also desperate for a piss after the smoothie but thought better of going to the pub. Convinced the bank I was who I said I was and got some cash out of my account.
Walked 20 minutes back to the station after getting lost a bit.
Back at Temple Meads
The woman said that she'd been in touch with the train guard and he'd had a look in the middle carriage tables but no wallet. She said he'd found a white leather purse with a pink bow on it but she said I didn't look the kind of person to have that kind of thing and laughed. I have to say the joke was lost on me at this point.
She said the exact train was due nack from Cardiff in about 40 minutes and I said I'll get back on it and check for myself as the train was quite busy being Halloween weekend and in my mind I wasn't sure if the guard had checked fastidiously. My wallet was a dark brown leather one and if it had fell on the floor under my seat it would have been easily unseen.
I was really, really stressed in my mind now and just thinking about having a drink.
I said what about my ticket back to Salisbury? Luckily I still had my outbound ticket in my arse pocket, but my return ticket was in my wallet. She said I should go to the Helpdesk and get a special stamp on my ticket so I could get home. I did that but the Helpdesk was next to the bar in the station.
I went to the bar and fucked two pints of Grolsch down my neck in 20 minutes. Then I went to the platform to get my train, hopefully with my wallet on, back to Salisbury.
Return Train #1
It was about 17:30. Platform was packed with people going home for Halloween weekend. A lot of people were laughing and hving fun at the prospect of the weekend. I was seething. The two pints of Grolsch had made me feel a bit hopeful, nut I still hated myself at my own stupidity. When the train with my wallet on pulled up it was full. I squeezed onto the middle carriage, where I'd been sitting earlyier on in the day with the intention of searching under the table seat. I gave up. The train was absolutely packed: not even any standing room left. Then there was an announcement that a train further down the line had broken down and they were trying to move it before our train could move.
I got off the train and went back to the pub.
Train #2
The train about 1 hour later was packed again and I was quite drunk by this time.
Train #3
I got this train back to Salisbury, no hope of ever finding my wallet and feeling ok as I was
well drunk after a couple of days sobriety.
Now
I've carried on the drinking over the weekend. I'm not even interested in sorting my car out anymore. Every time I try and sort my life out it all seems to turn into a mess. The irony is if I'd risked it and drove into Bristol that day unlicensed and untaxed I could have sorted out what I needed to do and been back, sober and happy.
Life sucks. Sorry for this being an epic post but I've drank a bottle of wine while writing it.
Silly me.
