The calm before the storm.

Back blipping again.
I was on my way to Kyle for my second gig, when I realised, to my horror, that I had forgotten to fill up with diesel. A quarter tank. Would that get me to Kyle and back? All I could do was cross the proverbial fingers. Surely there would be a petrol station open somewhere on the West Coast? Nope.

I had an uneventful outward journey - unlike the night before! - and had a lovely last night on the boat. When I got into the car at about 10.30, I remembered about the fuel situation. I figured out that if the warning light came on at Kinlochewe, I would have a reasonable chance of getting home.

The light came on at Achnashellach, accompanied by the alarming 'bleep! bleep! bleep!' from the Berlingo's dashboard.

50 miles from home. I could nothing but carry on, cursing the deer on the road which caused me to brake, using up even more of the precious liquid.

On and on. I could phone the RAC. I could spend the night in the car - I had a blanket and a dog to keep me warm.

On and on. Too late now to phone a friend (or to ask the audience...)

Made it! I couldn't believe it. I was at the side of my own house. I kissed the steering wheel.

There was, of course, the next morning to get through. I had to get to work - another 10 miles. I phoned Pat and asked her to follow me into Gairloch, but I still made it.
It took 49 litres to fill the car, and I had driven 63 miles after the warning light came on.

So much for my trying to follow the advice of Dog's Dinner and fill up from a half tank every time.

Lesson learned? Hope so!