There are none so blind as those who seal lids shut with gum

Ah, the first day of the summer holidays. The two weeks in the year that I have well-planned in advance, with days out for the Lads to enjoy, fun and frolics for all that are certain to create life-long positive memories about their childhood and their benighted mother. Ah, all the ideas about being well-prepared can come to nought when the very basics, like diesel, are not covered.

The first day of the ‘12th fortnight’ as it is called by our friends in the North, featured, as always, a trip to Funtasia in Drogheda. It’s the Wee Lad’s favourite place in the whole world and despite my constant reservations about beating myself into a swimsuit for one day every year, we always go, mostly to make the Wee Lad happy and hopefully behave himself on trips that he’s not as enthusiastic about.

The kids had a good time in the water park, a good time eating their hot dogs and chips, a good time bowling and a very good time spending my money on amusements and rides. We had spent a good five hours in Funtasia and I for one was glad to get behind the wheel of the car and point the horses for home.

As I drove out of Drogheda, the Lads, who had already ate and drank their fill, began complaining they were thirsty and despite telling them we would be ‘ home soon’ the heat was getting to them and they kept nagging their tired mum, who finally gave in and pulled into a petrol station. ‘Yisser only getting water, no minerals’, I told them and they were happy enough as they genuinely were thirsty, as opposed to their usual state of just wanting me to spend money.

The fuel light on the car was on, but there was a whole fraction of the tank lit up saying there was still diesel in it. It did, I will now admit, cross my mind that I could put diesel in the car while at the petrol station, but I believed I had enough in the tank to get me to Dundalk where, it has to be said, diesel prices were lower.

So, it was in order to save tuppence a litre that I ended up past the Boyne cable bridge, heading north and beginning to worry that I may, not in fact make it to Dundalk, but would, perhaps, make it to Applegreen at Castlebellingham. I didn’t know whether speeding up or slowing down would get me to my destination, but the complex computer systems of the car took that dilemma out of my hands when the vehicle started making quare beeping noises, forcing me to pull over on the hard shoulder of the M1, a tantalising 1.5kms away from Applegreen.

The Lads were incredulous that their mother had run out of diesel. So, in fairness, was I. It was with a lot of embarrassment that I rang, for the second time in a fortnight, the AA, who were sympathetic and said they would send someone as soon as they could. The water was long drunk, the rain was starting and I found a packet of chewing gum in the handbag that I eagerly distributed to the Lads to keep their mind off the bad situation I had put them in.

I kept looking at my wing mirror, willing every single vehicle going at breakneck speed to be the distinctive yellow AA van. As the minutes ticked by, I sat looking at news sites on my phone, while the Lads were messing in the back seat. A number of times the Big Lad tried to get my attention by starting to tell me something about his brother and the chewing gum. On six occasions I told him I didn’t want to hear him telling tales and I was stressed enough and to be quiet.

It was only when the Wee Lad began howling that I turned around and found that he had managed to seal his two eyes shut by putting the chewing gum at the top of his nose and pulling two ‘strings’ of it to his eyelids. It was while I was pulling his eyelashes out trying to get the gum off them that the AA man arrived, in the rain, and put diesel in the tank. I have no idea what sort of quare ones he thought we were. But we were on the road again at last, minus a dozen eyelashes, first day of the holidays over. Ah!