Last night, looking rather sweaty after my Zumba class and dressed in my gym gear, I popped to the petrol station to fill up on the way home. The first one I went to was completely closed, the next had barricades up and staff only letting selective people in (I however was not one of them) and, third time lucky, I found one with fuel and ready to let people in.
This reminded me of back home when you see news reports of cars lined up outside petrol pumps waiting to finally fill up. Usually the only reason for the station running out is that there has been really bad weather (or something) so the petrol containers delivering the fuel have not managed to reach the stations. Here, who knows - a case of the ‘5 more minutes’ rule perhaps, anyways the petrol was “not there only”.
Luckily I had just enough to get me to the third station so I lined up and waited to be served…only to have two random Indian men, then a big fat police man, jump in front of me before I actually got served! This delay gave the twenty-odd people waiting around me more time to happily stare at my white legs and my wee red post-Zumba face! Tank full, I was off.