One pass, one fail

These are testing times.

I had the dreaded over 40s (apparently – not over 60s) health check this week. My cholesterol level was good, but my waist was 1 and a half inches too big. It wasn’t in the RED DANGER ZONE, but in the yellow zone, which means the nurse doesn’t thrust diet pamphlets at you, and look appalled, but points at the tape measure and says mildly, “It would be good if you could get it down to this.”

She asked me all about my diet, and also, how much I drank. I said (truthfully) one glass of wine a day.

“And do you have an alcohol free day?” she said.

“Only when the bottle runs out.”

My 18 year old car has definitely run out of bottle. Yesterday, it failed its MOT. Dave has almost convinced me it should go for scrap. I am so fed up. I like my car. I think the lichen on the window seals adds character. Who cares about the broken central locking? And I have learned to live with the damp problem. There is no sign of rust, because I bought it from my sister in the sunny south. I am so fed up. I have liked having a car that no-one wants to steal.

Now I have to decide if we can manage living in the country with just one car, when that car was not my choice, and is really a van masquerading as a car, and actually feels like a truck, and in order to reverse, you have to use the wing mirrors, rather than turning round and looking through the back window, and what is more it is BEIGE.