If I never see a Morrison’s store again, I’ll be happy. Only twice on this trip have I had the misfortune to need to stop in a Morrison’s and it is an experience which I never wish to repeat. The first was Leicester. I need to reach Omar to let him know where I was and that I was safe, and wouldn’t you know it, surprise, surprise my iPhone battery was dead. Quick thinking said, pop into the shop explain the situation (they could see I was travelling because the bike was covered in bags and panniers) and ask if I could plug the phone in for 5mins so that it had enough charge to get me through to Omar then he could come and meet me. The staff response was: ‘sorry sir company policy says you are not allowed to use our electric sockets’. Completely aghast I left. I turned the corner and a car park attendant was stood in his little hut about to go home. I explained the situation once again, he took the phone and charger and plugged it straight in (I hadn’t told him about Morrison’s). 5minutes later I was on my way again. Done.
Imagine then my horror when my warning light comes on and I need to get petrol, I admit I should have been watching it a little more closely, but I hadn’t. I saw signs for a superstore and made straight for it, it was Morrison’s. I thought about it… but had no choice, I had no idea how much further it was to the next petrol station so I went in. Now, as a motorcyclist, I prefer to use the ‘pay at the pump’ service. You don’t have to take your lid off, there’s no messing about wasting time and you get on the road pretty quickly. I have no idea how many petrol stations I have visited on this run, or how many I have gone to in the years that I have been riding, but once you put the card in the reader it authorises payment and away you go, fill your boots as it were... or so I thought.
I had no reason to take my lid off and I had no reason to get off my bike. There is no centre stand (the bike is to bloody heavy for a centre stand) so you keep the bike balanced in order to fill the tank. Except in Morrison’s. Over the loud speaker some banshee shouts out that unless I get off my bike she will not authorise the fuel... so I got off. I put it on the stand and then went and asked her if it was me she was talking to. ‘Yes’ she said. ‘I’m sorry…’ I said, ‘but my bike only has a side stand and the fuel won’t fill if it is not upright. That’s how you fill it.’ ‘No it’s not. You put it on the stand and fill it, company policy says you get off the bike to fill it or I can’t authorise it.’ I just stood there. Authorisation is done by the card payment system not the checkout, that’s the whole point... ‘But if I put the fuel in on the side stand it won’t fill, I need to be on it so that it balances, it’s a 17lt tank and it won’t get more than 11-12lts if it’s not upright.’ ‘Oh yes it will, my husband rides a one...’ ‘No it won’t it’s too big.’ What I should have said is what bike does your husband ride, but the moment was gone. ‘Then you just won’t get a full tank will you.’ I couldn’t believe what I was hearing; she is probably the most obnoxious women I have had the misfortune to meet. Do I write to Morrison’s, would it make any difference? If a company employs f**#ing idiots like that, I doubt it would do any good at all – the letter would probably be against company policy anyway!
So I added my fuel and away I went. 11lts was all that it would take (now not to label the point, but when I got to the Texaco services on the A38, they didn’t ask me to get off the bike, and they didn’t ask me to take off the lid, even though I paid in the shop. There you go… Morrison’s, sick it up your ass
!
That aside, I have had a great time... I stayed with Kerry & Tim (Kerry is my cousin, Tim her husband). The girls - Caitlin and Grace were dead excitable and were exstatic about having their pictures taken sat on the bike. Caitlin has a new jacket (a fake leather) which she had to wear when she sat on the bike... mum told her she wasn't going to become a biker chick, sorry mum I think your little girl's alreadyt made that choice.
It is strange, but I really don't like turning up somewhere without having things already sorted. So for instance, a bottle of wine to have with dinner, that sort of thing, but because of limited space and a bike that already looks like a pack mule it just can't be done. So
I just grateful of the opportunity to take a short walk to the local shop. Wine was supped, laughter was heard and the conversation proved welcome.
It was also the day for the last dealership on the road. Again, a strange feeling having ridden so very far, and for so very long. The rain just continued to drain at my energy, but as I turned the corner and rode up the last bit of hill, it could have been spitting fire and I really wouldn't have cared. I'd made it. I have ridden to 19 of the official dealerships in 19 days and have just one left to complete the list of 20 dealerships and that I one is at home. I am
just a few short days, riding through what should be (if the rain holds off) some beautiful towns and villages.
Imagine then my horror when my warning light comes on and I need to get petrol, I admit I should have been watching it a little more closely, but I hadn’t. I saw signs for a superstore and made straight for it, it was Morrison’s. I thought about it… but had no choice, I had no idea how much further it was to the next petrol station so I went in. Now, as a motorcyclist, I prefer to use the ‘pay at the pump’ service. You don’t have to take your lid off, there’s no messing about wasting time and you get on the road pretty quickly. I have no idea how many petrol stations I have visited on this run, or how many I have gone to in the years that I have been riding, but once you put the card in the reader it authorises payment and away you go, fill your boots as it were... or so I thought.
I had no reason to take my lid off and I had no reason to get off my bike. There is no centre stand (the bike is to bloody heavy for a centre stand) so you keep the bike balanced in order to fill the tank. Except in Morrison’s. Over the loud speaker some banshee shouts out that unless I get off my bike she will not authorise the fuel... so I got off. I put it on the stand and then went and asked her if it was me she was talking to. ‘Yes’ she said. ‘I’m sorry…’ I said, ‘but my bike only has a side stand and the fuel won’t fill if it is not upright. That’s how you fill it.’ ‘No it’s not. You put it on the stand and fill it, company policy says you get off the bike to fill it or I can’t authorise it.’ I just stood there. Authorisation is done by the card payment system not the checkout, that’s the whole point... ‘But if I put the fuel in on the side stand it won’t fill, I need to be on it so that it balances, it’s a 17lt tank and it won’t get more than 11-12lts if it’s not upright.’ ‘Oh yes it will, my husband rides a one...’ ‘No it won’t it’s too big.’ What I should have said is what bike does your husband ride, but the moment was gone. ‘Then you just won’t get a full tank will you.’ I couldn’t believe what I was hearing; she is probably the most obnoxious women I have had the misfortune to meet. Do I write to Morrison’s, would it make any difference? If a company employs f**#ing idiots like that, I doubt it would do any good at all – the letter would probably be against company policy anyway!
So I added my fuel and away I went. 11lts was all that it would take (now not to label the point, but when I got to the Texaco services on the A38, they didn’t ask me to get off the bike, and they didn’t ask me to take off the lid, even though I paid in the shop. There you go… Morrison’s, sick it up your ass
!That aside, I have had a great time... I stayed with Kerry & Tim (Kerry is my cousin, Tim her husband). The girls - Caitlin and Grace were dead excitable and were exstatic about having their pictures taken sat on the bike. Caitlin has a new jacket (a fake leather) which she had to wear when she sat on the bike... mum told her she wasn't going to become a biker chick, sorry mum I think your little girl's alreadyt made that choice.
It is strange, but I really don't like turning up somewhere without having things already sorted. So for instance, a bottle of wine to have with dinner, that sort of thing, but because of limited space and a bike that already looks like a pack mule it just can't be done. So
I just grateful of the opportunity to take a short walk to the local shop. Wine was supped, laughter was heard and the conversation proved welcome.It was also the day for the last dealership on the road. Again, a strange feeling having ridden so very far, and for so very long. The rain just continued to drain at my energy, but as I turned the corner and rode up the last bit of hill, it could have been spitting fire and I really wouldn't have cared. I'd made it. I have ridden to 19 of the official dealerships in 19 days and have just one left to complete the list of 20 dealerships and that I one is at home. I am
just a few short days, riding through what should be (if the rain holds off) some beautiful towns and villages. You might have noticed how I have really avoided discussing Land's End and that's because it is shit! (Sorry)
At least John O'Groats has kept it's dignity. Land's End is now a tacky, mismatched carnival, where anything that should be there really is. For instance, and then I'll leave it there; what has Doctor Who got to do with Land's End... and please don't say that one of the episodes comes from there, that real
ly doesn't cut it. I was... disappointed.
ly doesn't cut it. I was... disappointed.
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