That's an amazing success story, the petrol station being converted into residential property. How many of us would love to have a row of petrol pumps in our front garden too? Yep, and I'd want a wee old guy in a brown storecoat, obligatory pencil behind ear, to sit out on the lawn in a small hut, taking money for washing the windows of passing cars.
Today, I was almost forced off the road by some twunt in a 1967 MGBGT. Island blue it was, but its driver was an appalling example of the type that puts "civilians" off the idea of joining the ranks of the old car people, the type whose arse had become so pinched in his B's aftermarket bucket furniture that he'd have to call the RAF to get him out of there!
It was a spectacularly fine looking (and sounding) car, its engine clearly tight and torquey, just like they were when they were new. The body was - as far as I could tell - about as perfect as it's possible to keep an older car that's used on weekdays, but damn! that driver was a right proper twunt and no mistake.
