A Modernist Novel, A Post-Modernist Bus Trip And Get Carter's Doncaster Connection

From Mrs Dalloway to a violent film starring Michael Caine...

Oh dear. I should never have said that life was good. The world heard me and arranged for this week to snarl up big time. A migraine took out Friday evening and most of the weekend, my AstraZenica jab involved a 25-mile round trip to a Portacabin in a car park on the outskirts of York, Mothering Sunday and my mother’s birthday had to be done right — and then the City Of Bradford wrote to say I’d committed a bus lane violation. The problem is, I sold that car in January.

The bus lane violation comes hard on the heels of two speeding tickets, also involving my poor little Agila, who has fallen into the hands of an unknown brute. The Change Of Keeper documentation, conscientiously filed by the garage, has gone astray (possibly due to a software glitch), and when I rang the DVLA to sort it out a Welsh lady told me I had to write them ‘a letter’. Yes — an actual, handwritten letter. I said “But I lack the technology” which was kind of true even though I did, poking around in my stationary d…