...its not quite a jaguar

Dear Marianne,

We don't have a car anymore, the Daewoo(0 to 60mph in 15 minutes)died on the M25 last month(outside lane to hard shoulder in 4 "life flashed before me" seconds). The police were right there straight away, it was 5:30am and it did look like I was drunk. They couldn't help at all as it turns out though, and I refused their kind offer of a silver blankety thing to keep me warm whilst I waited for the AA Man. I may have a shite car, I may have missed giving the one paper I give every five years and I may have been standing shaking with cold by the side of the road in T. shirt and shorts... but I still had my dignity.

So, I am borrowing Bonnie's car. The deal was that I drive her family to Gatwick Airport for their two weeks in the sun (not at the airport you understand, although it was a close call) and then two weeks later I pick them up, and in between times we get their car. A simple and effective plan you might think. Except, I'm not sure whether you have heard, but there has been a bit of trouble on the planes, and the trip to Gatwick was a round trip repeated (one way) the next day. I think they got there the second time, I know that they were determined to reach the south of France one way or another and the last time I spoke to them, planes to Northern Italy as well as trains from Paris were mentioned.
I suspect that this summer’s farce at the airports has provided a real sense of smugness for British holidaymakers up and down the country, as they sit on crumbling Victorian piers, in the freezing wind and driving rain, eating candy floss out of a plastic bag and drinking lukewarm tea from flasks. It may not be Provence, they’re thinking, but at least I didn't have to put my piles spray, tampons and false teeth in a see through bag just so I could get on a plane that wasn’t there.

You know what you notice when you don't have a car? How many unnecessary journeys you make in one. However after one week of walking purposefully everywhere and banging on about your new found sense of freedom to friends who are: “still bound by the limitations and a false sense of security provided by your car, actually Zoe”, you realise you can't go shopping for "big stuff". You can't go to the tip, you can't go on fun days outside the town, you can't pop in to grandma's in the village next to the town, you can’t drop people off, you can't pick people up, you can’t go swimming etc. etc.
Actually, apart from the tip you can do all these things by bus, but fuck that for a game of soldiers; I need a car.

Rx