It seems ridiculous to me that any time there is a whiff of a shortage, people suddenly feel they need to top up. Only this time there is no shortage. It's just that supplies couldn't get out of the depots due to demonstrations. The demonstrators didn't quite grasp that the very people they were hitting were the ones they should be wanting to get on their side.
Last time there was no petrol shortage but a shortage of drivers to take the tankers out. So this is all very frustrating. But it doesn't mean there is a need to force a miniscule amount of petrol into your vehicle just in case because there is no in case.
This whole thing will go away in a few days. Leave the petrol/diesel for people who genuinely need to fill up. There should be a rule in situations like this that says you must have a minimum amount of £30 of petrol or diesel. Put in less and you still pay £30. All the people who genuinely need fuel will be happy to have this rule. Those who want to put in £10 just in case won't.
On Thursday, a garage in Wroxham had cars queuing so far back that vehicles couldn't negotiate a roundabout let alone get past the cars stacked up. The same was happening today at two local garages where the queues were presenting through traffic from getting through. There was a delivery at Waitrose of Wymondham which rather suggested there were deliveries at other stations as well. This is a ridiculous and unnecessary situation that makes negotiating our roads even more difficult when it's difficult enough anyway.
* * *
I never have much luck in picking the winner of the Grand National. In fact I never have much luck in picking anything that finishes in the first six. This year I should have gone by horses' names rather than form.
The winner was Noble Yeats and W. B Yeats is my favourite poet and one I studied at school. Then Freewheelin' Dylan finished in the places and this is obviously a reference to the album by Bob Dylan.
Instead as usual I went for a number of horses that either fell, pulled up or came nowhere apart from Fiddler on the Roof which finished fifth and got some of my losses back.
I did have a wonder year once when I picked the winner and third but that was so long ago.
I seem to have a love-hate relationship with horse racing. I have been to many different courses over the years including Lingfield, York, Doncaster, Fakenham, Yarmouth, Lingfield, Ripon, Ascot and Aintree and probably many more that escape my mind at the moment.
It wasn't a greatly auspicious day when we went to the Grand National a few years ago. There's a big difference between watching the race on television and being there and I prefer the former. When you are there, the crowd is so large that you don't see a lot and all you see of the main race is the last few fences, unless you watch it on the large screen and if you do that you may as well watch it on television at home with a cup of tea and a crumpet!
What I do remember more than the racing is a heel bar for those poor young things who had broken their high heels and there was also a tanning unit for the all over spray tan if the one you turned up with didn't last. I didn't avail myself of this service.
I also remember running the gauntlet of a demonstration on the way from the train to the course - cruelty to animals and all that. I have to believe that most of the racehorses in this country are well looked after and I have been to a number of stables that bear this out.
Each year before lockdown a number of stables at Newmarket were open to the public with the entrance fee going to an animal charity. I remember going round a number of yards and my other threequarters asking trainer Sir Michael Stoute for his autograph and offered him a cheap Bic pen. Sir Michael declined to take the pen and took out his own gold one:
"The thing about being rich is it means I have my own pen," he said with a twinkle in his eye. I'm hoping it was a twinkle and he wasn't taking the p--s.
But back to the Grand National. There were but a handful of the protestors and they looked pretty bored as if somebody had asked them to be there.
I watched some of what is known as the Aintree Festival this week on television. On Friday there was a race called the Topham Trophy. The Grand National is two circuits of the Aintree Steeplechase course whilst the Topham is for amateur jockeys and is one circuit of the course but over the same fences.
Anyway in the Topham and the Grand National a number of horses lost their riders but quite happily continued to run with the pack and go over the jumps when they could just have stopped or run out. This suggests that they enjoy taking the jumps.
Mind you there are plenty of less than savoury aspects to horse racing one of which made national headlines when trainer Richard Elliott was pictured grinning whilst sitting on a dead horse. This unacceptable photo led to Elliott being suspended from training, but now he's back.
Actually being at Aintree for the Grand National felt like a surreal experience in many ways as if we weren't really there and then in a flash it was all over and it was the train back to the city centre with a feeling that we could tick that one off the bucket list and not have to repeat it.
I much prefer going to the small racetracks. Yarmouth is pleasant. Most of the people there are holidaymakers and the track is circular which means you have a very good view of the race unfolding. Last year a near neighbour of ours took his motor home to stay for a few nights on Yarmouth Racecourse. He was on the campsite part of it and not the racecourse itself. We were on holiday in Camber Sands. Our neighbour had occasion to ring us on a minor matter. I asked him how it was going.
"There's good news and bad news," he said.
"The bad news is they won't let us off the site whilst the races are on. The good news is we have a brilliant view of the racing."
We are thinking of going to Fakenham Races on Easter Monday as they have a family day with plenty for the grandchildren to do. Last time we went to Fakenham I wasn't very popular. My two sons had the favourite in an accumulator. I didn't see any point in betting on the favourite so picked a horse at odds of 8/1. Coming up the the final fence the favourite was so far clear of the rest that he could have put on a nosebag, had a cup of tea and still won. One fence to go and it was in the bag.
Only problem is the favourite fell at the last fence and guess who trotted up quite a few seconds later to jump the fence and trot to victory? Yes my 8/1 horse. I pocketed the winnings whilst my sons told sad stories of what might have been.