My life seems to be one tale of car woe after another at the moment. No sooner was the Hydramobile returned to me yesterday evening than it began to go wrong again. The poor man from the garage who came to collect it this lunchtime couldn't even make it start, which was a pain for him but at least made me feel less of a fraudulent moaner. However, the silver lining in this particular cloud is that I now have a different courtesy car and it's so much nicer.
The current state and mores of the British road system occupy more of my thoughts now I work outside of London than they ever did before. Yesterday evening I saw several examples of the summer phenomenon of motorway drivers holding one hand out of the window and flexing their fingers sensually in the velocity-induced wind.
I'm completely attuned to the need to air those awkward little nooks and crannies inbetween the digits - frankly we get so few opportunities - but I can't help thinking that while they're driving directly in front of my car at 70+mph, I'd like to see both hands on the steering wheel, please.
Sashinka is currently exploring the extreme limits of art deco therapy
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