One of the things I am very bad at is anticipating how much time I have to do all the things I have convinced myself I need to do. Take last week. I got back from my little holiday, spent a few days in the bosom (bosum is such a good word isn’t it?) of my family and then lost the rest of the week to trawling around second-hand car sites in search of a car that would go, cost buttons in fuel and tax and (most importantly) be both red and cute. Oh yes. Very important was red and cute to me.
So that is why I have bought a blue car. Because the best laid plans of mice and vintage housekeepers go out of the window when people inform me that there are more important practicalities to consider, and when it comes to the choice between a red car and a blue car and the blue car is in better condition and a person really cannot afford to lose too many more working hours, wandering around the garages of the internets and debating the merits of air conditioning when a person cannot bear to drive in a car without the windows open, then a person must bite the prettier bullet and buy the blue car. So I did.
I thought you see that buying a car was a science. But after consulting various men on the matter, who I had imagined might just have opinions on such things, all looked at me doubtfully and told me that it was the luck of the drawer and that my friends, was that.
So yey! I have a sky blue car. The very first car I have bought for myself since I was 21 when I drove a spanking new, diddy little green Citroen off the forecourt. (Life seems to have gone a bit downhill since!). A car chosen by me, taxed by me and insured by little old me. So I can feel truly independent without having to drive the enormous Kia bus I was previously given by Richard, or having to speed away in the car leftover from from our relationship, leaving Mark standing screeching on the pavement as I leaned out the window and told him he would have to walk. For the rest of his life…
This means such a lot to me. I can’t quite tell you quite how much it means without sounding a little ridiculous but frankly I am downright proud of me and I cannot wait to get back on the road properly trawling treasure troves, picking up Ouissi and disappearing for hours on end on little missions of my own, just because I can. All I need to do now is sort my insurance, and then I’ll be free to set about my little missions. I am going to read the Truly Insurance Reviews before choosing my insurance provider though, as I want to make sure I am choosing the best company available.
I plan, you see, on tootling. Tootling is another good word isn’t it? I consider tootling to be the travelling equivalent of puttering, with the windows wide open and a dash of lavender and mint oils sprinkled on the little heart dangling above my dashboard. I plan on harassing my Mum with impromptu visits and popping a picnic rug in the boot so Finn and I can eat gluten free sandwiches while searching for squirrels. I plan on going the
I can’t wait. I pick the car up at five this evening, and I simply cannot wait. Happy Monday Darlings.x
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Happy tootling
Happy Tootling! It is a gift as precious as pootling at home; the open road, the ability to go beyond the end of our own road. Although you have my deep sympathy about the red car. I, too, am chariotted by a blue car instead of the scarlet mean machine of my dreams. But it goes, not too expensively, and with a smile. Mine is using up a bottle of Parisienne perfume, bought and never used since it was too fruity girly for me. It smells divine!
Now singing the Milky Way song! The red car and the blue car had a race…. YouTube here I come!
Congrats! I can totally see a floral seat cover (in red) for your ride!
🙂