The last race of the season is tomorrow, and there's a storm raging outside. This means two things - firstly, that I'll soon be having a few weeks with a bit more time, and secondly, having dropped my daughter off to a friend's house, I've been given a timely reminder of two of the jobs I've been promising the bus this winter - one is to clean as many of the electrical contacts up as I can, in an effort to improve the frankly abysmal performance of the wipers whenever anything else is on - like headlights, for example - and the second is to install a new heater cable.
Grown men cry at the prospect of installing a new heater cable on these things, specifically because of just how much fun it can be removing the old one. I'm going to have to think of something cleverer than the next sentence to accomplish this: I've had a good tug (well, the nights were long and there was nothing on the telly) with a pair of pliers (ouch) and vice grips (double ouch) bracing my feet on the wheels and heaving for all I was worth (mustn't boast, and all that) and nothing showed even the slightest sign of coming.
If this storm produces a bit of snow, I might even manage to put it off until next year.