Cars!

Cars!

 

Three black Labradors, one fox red Labrador and a Dalmatian, 2009

When we were both working full-time, it was essential that we each had a car. Public transport is unreliable and intermittent in this area and we both worked in places that were not easy to get to and too far away to reach by walking.

Rather than have the dogs mess up the interior of Barry’s estate car, (all their exercise is in muddy places) we opted to take advantage of a generous Government offer to acquire a workhorse vehicle. It’s effectively a truck and it’s known as ‘the dog box’. At that time, we had four dogs, Dalmatians, and then Labradors, all of them (apart from Buddy Liver Spots) loving water and puddles, so they were able to reduce a pristine interior to something else entirely in very short order.

I had an appointment on Tuesday, a fifteen-minute drive away. I thought I’d take Barry’s car – it’s comfortable and a good journey would charge the battery, although Barry drove it last week when he went out to meet friends, so theoretically it should have been fully charged.

In his usual way, he went out to check that all was well. It had a new battery fitted and was given a service and MOT very recently, so should have been tickety-boo. It wasn’t! It wouldn’t start. So, he called the RAC, who appeared promptly and got it going, but suggested that the garage should look it over again. It is due to be towed in there on Thursday. The garage is always very busy, a sign of a reliable local business.

Having discovered that his car was out of action, I decided to drive my little two-seater, which is also very comfortable but not nearly as easy to get into and out of. Falling out of a car onto my knees is not a good look. 😉

Again, the thinking was that a good run would top up the battery and I was looking forward to driving it. It may be small, but it’s powerful and very responsive. It wouldn’t start!  The RAC were called once more and someone duly came, inspected it and started it and all appeared to be well, though there was some thought that it was an electrical problem causing the unreliability and that it should be checked by the garage.

So, Barry set about fitting the TomTom in the dog box and I went off to my appointment.The dog box is a simple, straightforward vehicle, with no airs and graces. It is fifteen years old.

When I arrived home, we set off to take my car to the garage. Half-way there, it died – just completely stopped without warning - so the RAC were called, again, and a tow truck was booked to take it the rest of the way to the garage, which is only about a mile from our house.

Our cars are old – mine was registered in 2001 and Barry’s in 2007 - but relatively little used and have always been maintained by people who know the brand and what they’re doing. We are reluctant to sell them and buy a newer car, since modern vehicles have even more computer gimmickry in them, and therefore even more to go wrong, potentially. The 17-year-old estate car goes through more than 90 checks before firing up the engine. Just imagine how many a modern car has to execute.

It’s frustrating and aggravating and whoever thought that cars and computers belong together should be shot. ☹

Today, we’ve had two calls from RAC drivers, coming from different directions, to say that they’re on their way to pick up the car. They seemed surprised to learn that it’s booked for Thursday afternoon, to work with the garage’s schedule. I hope they turn up!

Snow!

Snow

We have had snow! Not a lot by some standards, just about 2” (5 cms), but enough to make the garden look pretty – or, at least, different. The local schools, along with many across the country, had a Snow Day.

I took photographs with my little Sony just before 8:30 a.m.

 The dogs ruined the pristine layer. They charged out and round the garden then galloped back in again. 

Barry took some photographs later with his superior Canon.

Zula, Susannah’s little Abyssinian, 2 years old today, dashed out and returned immediately. Herschel decided to investigate. He stepped delicately in the snow, flicking it off his paws and sniffing at the funny white stuff.  

Jellicoe went out later and stayed outside for some time, inspecting the scene, but Isambard viewed it all with suspicion from the safety and warmth of the sitting room.

The anemometer and wind vane had more than a dusting of snow but managed to spin in the wind that sprang up. 

The bird feeder (h’mm, should clean and replenish it!) has not had any avian visitors today but there were numbers of gulls wheeling round the tree-tops this morning.

The best barometers in the house are the cats, guaranteed to discover the hot spots. Two of them, the Somalis Solomon and Lenny, spent considerable time in the conservatory (I’m sure they enjoyed watching Le Mans with Frankie). 

Herschel cuddled up with Bertie while Isambard appropriated my chair and didn’t object when I almost sat on him, happy to share and at the same time help me compose my  blog post. 

Jellicoe, however, found the prime spot, on the bookshelf above the radiator. From the photographs you can see that he has a bent for Natural History, particularly Ornithology.

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It is snowing again and is forecast to continue for several hours. We are unreliably informed, by someone who knows much better than the Met Office, the AA, the RAC, and all the weather forecasters in the media, that the amber warnings of bad weather are ‘scaremongering’ and the snow is ‘localised’, with none in Wokingham, 4 miles away. This is not true but we shrug and smile – there’s no point in arguing with someone who is always so right, though usually so wrong!