Mrs Oakley takes a dim view of my using the BMW that consumed much of her savings to ferry sacks of garden refuse and discarded paint tins to the council dump. She took an even dimmer view when, in executing a three-point turn recently, I missed a marker post behind me and reshaped the bumper: replacing it will require regular success in the Tote Placepot. But it really wasn’t my fault when a warning light flashed to tell us we had low tyre pressure. The garage reported that not just one tyre but all four had been penetrated by vicious-looking carpet tacks: it was either mindless vandalism or deliberate sabotage, which is not a pleasant thought to contemplate.
Nobody else in our village found any tacks in their tyres. We don’t know of any local enemies and so Mrs Oakley came up with an explanation. Aware that I have lately been combing through the Racing Post results most mornings with groans rather than whoops of joy, she concluded: ‘It can only be a discontented reader who has been following your Twelve to Follow.’
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