The moment you realise just how much your VW loves you.

Last week we went to Blackpool, via Llay.  We spent the week up there, we drove back, via Leamington Spa.  I suppose over the week we did about 700 miles, Friday to Friday.

Thursday, we had a bulb blow in the back indicator.  Our friend was following us, and she cheerfully informed us that we had no brake lights either.  Oh we did.  Oh we didn't.  Oh we did.  Oh we didn't.  You get the picture.  Intermittent earth fault, we thought.  Nothing we can do here.

We got back on Friday.

We slept a lot of yesterday.

Today we decided to see what we could fix.

The right rear indicator was indeed bulb blown.  Melted and kaput and fubar.  (All technical terms!)  We replaced it, and..... nothing.  We cleaned the contacts and...... nothing.

Ho hum.

We checked the fuses, cleaned the contacts, tidied it up a bit, and ...... nothing.

We then stopped for a brew, obviously.

We went back out.  We checked the brakes again, ready to check the brake switches, and Jack thought he heard something.  He stuck his head under the van.  I pressed the pedal.

This is what he saw.

Hmmmmm.  I'm not a mechanic.  I've said this before.  I'll stick my neck out on this one though - I'm pretty sure it's not supposed to do that.

Thankfully, Brian didn't lose it on the way home barrelling down the M6, he didn't lose it around a roundabout, he lost it on the drive, at home.  Even now, he's got some braking.  We're just not sure how much!

Today, we realised how much he loves us too.

(Yes, I'm fully aware that this is anthropomorphising to the extreme.  I don't care.)