Bridget Gorfe’s Diary

In the spirit of even-handedness, we feel we should present selected extracts of this disturbing counterview to the recent pieces we have published by Myles Gorfe.


SUNDAY 14 DECEMBER 2014 (12.45am) : Sunday lunch is in the oven and Myles has just come in from working on the Granada. The poor love looked so miserable. He spent all morning fitting a new part he bought on Ebay and it doesn’t work. He’s just popped up to his man-cave to order another.

SUNDAY 14 DECEMBER 2014 (3.45pm) : Oh well, that was Sunday lunch. The kids liked it anyway but Myles was a no-show. I’ve kept his warm. He’d promised to have a look at my Micra today but it looks like that won’t happen.

SUNDAY 14 DECEMBER 2014 (7.45 pm) : Yes, or rather no. I was right about no time for the Micra. He popped down, bolted his meal, went out to the garage then back up to browse. What does he do on that computer? I thought it was porn for a while, but now I’m sure it’s just bloody cars. Porn can’t cost that much. If he doesn’t hurry, he’ll miss the Strictly results.

SATURDAY 3 JANUARY 2015 : Myles was in his cave all day. Apparently he’s been commissioned by this big website to do a series of articles on his Granada. Sounds odd to me. When I asked what they were paying him, he was a bit shifty.

WEDNESDAY 7 JANUARY 2015 : Myles came in looking really chuffed. His first article was up on that website. I had a look. It was funny reading him talking about his car. He sounded quite young and innocent, like he was when we first met. Reading it, you wouldn’t have imagined the big black cloud of resentment that follows him round these days. I got to thinking about him back then. He had that little Sixties Escort and he seemed pretty cool to me. When we were expecting Sammie he said it was time to trade in the Escort for something more sensible I thought he’d get a Golf or something, but he bought his first Granada instead. Why does he call it a Grannie? He had a real Grannie back then, only he never had time to see her. To busy fiddling with his metal substitute. I should have seen the signs

Ford Escort

WEDNESDAY 18 FEBRUARY 2015 : I had to stay in all day because Myles said he was expecting a big box of parts from Romania to be delivered. They didn’t turn up. When he got back in the evening that put him in a horrid mood and I was glad he retreated into his cave as soon as he’d gobbled down his dinner.

SUNDAY 22 MARCH 2015 (11.00 pm) : Myles went out for a spin after lunch and I heard nothing. I got so worried I called the police in the end. Then ten minutes ago he called. Turns out he’d broken down (quelle surprise!) and he said his phone battery was flat – then how did he call? He’s on his way back with Truck Stan. I’d better stay up. He’ll want to know what happened in Poldark.

THURSDAY 9 APRIL 2015 : Myles and I had a really bad argument this evening. All I’d asked him to do was fix the Micra’s wipers. They’ve not worked for months and every time it rains I have to take the kids to school on the bus. He made some comment about being too busy, I lost my rag, Sammie and Debs started crying and he stormed off to his glorious man-cave to prattle on to his stupid, stupid mates like that bloody Gavin Chide about bloody Ford Granadas. Gavin Chide’s the worst of the lot I reckon, their ringleader, their Moriarty. I imagine him in his greasy overalls, puffing on a roll-up, like some flabby, smelly Dr Frankenstein, promising to bring their lumps of rotting metal back to life whilst all the while he’s sucking the life blood out of their credit cards – or am I getting my literary references too confused?

WEDNESDAY 15 APRIL 2015 : I was taking a break for a bite of lunch and a read when the bell rang. This really nice looking guy was on the doorstep with a box. Turned out it was Gavin Chide. I was gobsmacked. He’s nothing like I thought. He was clean for a start. Apparently the box had some parts that Myles had left with him before they fell out. As I took the box, I dropped my book, which I’d still been holding, and he picked it up. It was the last Zadie Smith and he said he’s a big fan. We had a cup of coffee and we chatted about books for a full hour. Turns out he’s a big reader and he likes a lot of the people I do. What a surprise! Seems not all Myles’s mates always have their heads buried under a bonnet.

TUESDAY 21 APRIL 2015 : Another surprise. I’d told Gavin about my Monday evening reading group and he turned up last night. He was brilliant. We had some great discussions – arguments really – but it was all so good natured. It had been raining, so I’d gone on the bus, and afterwards he gave me a lift home in his car, a really nice VW Passat Estate. I got talking and admitted how much I’d hated him before we met. He laughed and said he could see my point but was really straight about it all. He explained that he has all these guys like Myles bringing him wrecks and thinking he’ll turn them into gems. Then they tell him what to do, rather than listen to his advice. He tries to tell them otherwise, but they’re deaf, they’re all experts. Then when he’s done what they ask and they’ve still got a wreck, they blame him. He dropped me round the corner because he thinks he’s still persona-non-grata with Myles. How stupid!.

WEDNESDAY 22 APRIL 2015 : I’d told Gavin about the Micra’s wipers yesterday evening. At lunchtime he popped round to look at them and fixed the problem in ten minutes. He left 3 hours later !!!!!!!

SUNDAY 17 MAY 2015 : Gavin came round and picked up me and the kids. We packed all we could in the back of the Passat – quite a lot. I’d told Myles we were leaving in the morning. He tried to look hurt and angry but then he remembered that he needed to put in a bid for an Ebay auction that ended in 10 minutes, and that he hadn’t finished his monthly report for that stupid website, so he went up to his cave. I didn’t see him again. I kicked the Grannie on my way out for good measure and I made a fair sized dent. Something for Myles to write about in his next article.

VW Passat Estate

EDITOR’S NOTE : Needless to say, our sympathies are all with poor Myles Gorfe and our hearts go out to him. It seems astounding that a spouse would put the comfort of herself and her children before the greater good of his noble enterprise.

One thought on “Bridget Gorfe’s Diary”

  1. I can´t guess what Myles will say about this.
    I found it rather entertaining – I hadn´t imagined anything about Gavin Chide other than he may wear a pale blue padded anorak.

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