Magnus has returned from Blackpool, where he was doing an intensive five-day driving course. I subsequently spent part of the weekend in the Berlingo's passenger seat while Mag conducted us about Knightswood and environs. He'll be ready for his test, which is booked for 7th August. If I don't have a heart attack first.
We ate Japanese on Saturday night (Ichi Ban in Dumbarton Road - absolutely splendid) and then on Sunday it was farewell to Clydebank and up the road to Aberdeen. Mag drove part of the way. The only ugly incident of the trip took place at Stirling, where we had a Burger King. Actually, that wasn't as ugly as you might think. Whoppers are, weirdly, much smaller than Big Macs and much, much tastier. Gordon Ramsay is a Burger King fan and that's good enough for me.
No, the problem arose when I tried to fill up with petrol in the adjacent garage. The driver of a newish Ranger Rover Sport (150 mph, 2 mpg) parked across two pumps to fill up his 4WD status symbol. I waited, then, when he had finished pouring about £300 worth of petrol into his machine, politely asked him if he could nudge the beast forward a couple of feet so I could fill the Berlingo with diesel.
'No' he replied 'it says you mustn't move your car until you've paid.'
'What, two feet?'
'I'll be two minutes' the driver, who was tall and in his 30s, clearly some sort of property developer, said angrily. I shrugged, and, while he was inside paying, kicked in his tail lights.
'Don't do that during your driving test' I told Magnus when we finally drove off. 'You'll never pass.'
Alas, as you may have guessed,I did not kick in the Range Rover's tail lights. In fact, it never even occurred to me until just this minute. Instead, I made vile comments about every Range Rover driver I espied during the rest of our voyage to Castle Greyskull. As you do. Crap cars, anyway. Toyota Landcruisers are the thinking person's off roader.