Ah! The Petrol Crisis.
I don’t really have anything to say about The Petrol Crisis. Apart from the fact that, along with many other issues, it seems to awaken the hypocrite in most of us. It’s a bit like the “essential items” and “essential trips” we all had to consider a few months ago. What is essential? What is not?
I think we can all agree that ambulances need the petrol. I think we can also agree that filling up a fuel tank, and then filling numerous cans for lawnmowers is taking the biscuit somewhat. But the panic buying – the need to GET FUEL NOW ALONG WITH EVERYONE ELSE EVERYWHERE AND ALL AT THE SAME TIME got me really confuddled..
I couldn’t understand the traffic last Saturday – I must have been living under a rock all week. But the queues near petrol stations got me a-thinkin’. What, I wondered, was all the fuss about?
In time, I realised what was afoot, and I tutted a bit (secure and slightly pompous in the knowledge I had just enough gas to get me home). I would not join these queues. I would wait. After all, there was no fuel shortage, apparently…
But as soon as the opportunity presented itself, what did I do? I filled up. Was this wrong? Was this selfish? Was it essential? Admittedly, I did not have to queue. I was not that desperate. But the moral dilemma is a curious one…
Anyhow… the most ironic thing that has happened this week is that Big Seymour borrowed Minty, my Polo, and somehow managed TO SPILL PETROL IN IT! (Something to do with a leaking tool and a Jerry can.) And so, as I drive to work this week, and to Cubs, Scouts, choir and dancing etc etc etc… I watch the petrol gauge fall and wonder if there will be anything left to refill the tank with, all the while suffering a banging headache because there is, in fact, unused fuel of some denomination soaked liberally in my footwell.
I wonder if Minty could run on fumes even if they’re not actually inside the engine..? We shall see.
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