Brmmmm

Good news, there’s a garage in the local village.
Bad news, the mechanic hates mending my car.

Two months away and my citroen won’t start and I need the hydraulic suspension working so that I can change the flat tyre.
Usually when I go to visit the garage the conversation goes like this.

Me -I have a problem with my car.

Mechanic –.........

Me- err yes it’s making this weird noise.

Mechanic – pfff.

Me- perhaps you can have a look?

Mechanic – pfff

Car – squeak, crunch, cough, sigh.

Mechanic- pfff

Me- what do you think?

Mechanic- pfff+shake of head and an inhale of breath.

Me-bad?

Mechanic- pppffff

The worst thing about all this is that I end up diagnosing the problem.

Me- I wondered if it was the main transmission thing?

Mechanic- ooooh, pppfff.

The same thing happened this morning, I went, he stood there I gabbled, he shrugged, I suggested, he sucked through his teeth and in desperation I said –“maybe the fuel pump is broken?’

PPPfffff, surely.

That would have been the end of the matter but this time I issued a direct invite to visit the corpse. He came, took him three minutes to start it, I felt stupid (again) and he left.

I wonder if I should pay him something?

PPfff.

More about Living in France here.