13) LETTER TO MY CAR

 
She's scratched, dented and often mud-splattered on her silver paintworked outside.  She's grey-cushioned and scattered with long journey crumbs on the inside.
But she's safe.
 
She's not the car of my dreams - that would be a green, two-seater, raved about on Top Gear something or other, but where would I drive that anyway?  No, she definitely has the wide-hipped, home-baked, built-for-comfort proportions of a gutsy female. 
 
In snow, pelting rain and in the baking hot rays of the Continent, she's kept me cool enough, warm enough and dry enough.  That was back when the air conditioning worked.  But I'm prepared to tolerate a few imperfections with this old friend.  
 
She may be tired and shabby, like a well-loved cuddly toy, but I have a feeling I like her all the more because all this rather reminds me of myself - slightly world-weary; practical rather than dressy.  And she works.  She knows the road and I know her - exactly how much pressure to put on the steering wheel; how to coast in traffic jams; how long I can get away with the petrol guage telling me it's empty before it really is empty.
 
She's like a trusted friend.  And I wouldn't replace her with anything shinier, speedier or classier until I absolutely have to - never mind what the neighbours think! 

INSPIRED BY http://www.sleepisfortheweak.org.uk/2010/02/22/writing-workshop-14-childhood-passions-and-a-fantasy-shopping-spree/
 
AND  http://itsasmallworldafterallfamily.wordpress.com/2010/02/18/a-letter-to-my-bed/

1) RUSH HOUR

Disaster! I spent half an hour crafting the healthiest, omega-3 and vitamin-filled salad for my packed lunch, even going so far as to make a second one for the saintly husband. Then promptly forgot it on the side in the kitchen. If I hadn't been at the motorway junction, I would have risked being late and turned round to get it. The effort that had gone into making it was mammoth. And the temptation I was going to have to rise above while surrounded by Starbucks, Tesco, one of those expensive wheatgrass smoothie places, a huge shopping centre and various cafes was immense. Juxtapose those next to the mindset that you're going to need something to see you through a 12-hour day, while chained to a phone in pursuit of the unattainable, and it's hard to resist the lard-laden smorgasbord on offer. But resist we must in these straitened times - hence the de rigeur home-made munchies.

But I'm glad I didn't turn the car round because I got caught in traffic near the Hammersmith flyover and made the wrong call on which route to take. Normally, I opt for a newly-discovered route that avoids too many traffic lights, but today that looked equally crowded. How wrong was I? My left thigh muscles were shaking with overuse of the clutch control by the time I parked up in the straight-out-of-a-70s detective series multi-storey car park.

I was late for the morning meeting; there was a further meeting about job losses, which added to the doom-laden atmosphere, and the interviews I was trying to set up seemed to get ever more elusive.  But, on the plus side, I managed to text my husband to rescue the neglected salad and send it fridge-wards, and I resisted all saturated fats until 9 pm when 2 slices of pizza came calling! They tasted all the more delicious because I'd held out for so long, and hey, a little bit of what you fancy does you good, doesn't it?

Why should anyone want to read about this in my first blog posting? Well, it's just a taster of a typical day in my life, and maybe your days are sometimes similar.  The plan in your head goes: brain-nourishing radio programme on 45 minute trip to work; nutritious salad for lunch; svelte figure emerging; exclusive top story clinched - and the reality looks somewhat different....! Oh well. Such is life!