My MGB: defeated by the Bank Holiday weekend

ANOTHER week, another reason why my MGB isn't on the road. Only this time, it's been defeated by the Bank Holiday weekend.

This time last week I was a happy chap. The very Seventies sports car had, after what had seemed like an eternity, finally passed its MOT with flying colours. A very dull trip to the DVLA's office up in Preston now meant that it was not only taxed, but taxed for nothing, on account of it being an historic vehicle. Even the cheapo classic car insurance was ready and rolling, meaning all I had to do was jump in, fire up the old girl and drive off into the sunset. Or rather I would have done were it not for the British Bank Holiday.

You see, the slight snag was that the MOT tester noticed it was leaking coolant, which last Thursday we finally traced to being caused by a water pump that may as well have been made of clay. Usually you'd just ring up the following morning, get a new one, and have it fitted an hour later. Unfortunately, the following morning was a Bank Holiday.

In fact, the only day when it wasn't a Bank Holiday was Saturday, when Partco is open for just a few hours in the morning, and, predictably, they didn't have one on the shelves. I don't blame them; would you keep obscure bits for a long-gone sports car in stock for the one idiot who needs them? The upshot is that - as I write this column - a job that should have taken half an hour is now into its fifth day.

This, as anyone who's ever used a Bank Holiday weekend as an excuse to tinker in the garage with their pride and joy, is the nightmare of having shops shut, and I expect with another four day weekend on the way a lot of stout chaps in boiler suits are going to find themselves, thanks to the Royal Wedding, right royally knackered.

Britain's cottage industry of nailing together things in sheds depends on Bank Holiday weekends, so having the shops which supply the stuff shutting for days on end is a nightmare. It's not just cars either; I imagine there must be millions of Handy Andys, Alan Titchmarshes and Fred Dibnahs, who despite finally being freed from their everyday jobs can't buy the bits for their hobby of choice.

I'm not asking for a religious holiday to be hijacked by rampant commercialism to keep some classic car owners happy. I just want my water pump on time.