Well, it’s been a
week and I can’t say I’ve really bonded
with the new motor.
I’m still groping
around for phantom keys in a non-existent lock to turn the stupid thing off and
on reflection we probably shouldn’t have gone for the shiny black paintwork: fresh
from the showroom, up Park Lane, once round Cagogan Square and into the
underground NCP behind John Lewis - 2.7 miles on the clock and the guys that
clean cars look up and call out “Car wash madam? Want your car washed?”
On Friday we had
to deliver one of Brian’s paintings to a client in Norwich. Should have been a
nice day out. They were taking us to lunch at Roger Hickman - all linen
tablecloths and elegantly served nouvelle cuisine so I’d gone to a bit of
effort – vintage cream satin shirt, black wool skirt, my favourite gold pendant
from the 70s, short black boots, hair pinned up. After spending ten minutes in
the rain trying to figure out how to arrange a modest size canvas
and two whippets in the back while still being able to close the doors and the boot we set off - a damp disheveled mess. Brian drove - his first time
in a manual for some time. After a jerky few miles, we made it as far as
Walthamstow and he is muttering something about his loafers getting caught
in the carpet. Next thing I know we jolt to a halt and a whippet is catapulted
through from behind and lands on my lap laddering my tights. Enzo is still in
the back, looking worried, peeking out from under an oil painting of a
Norwich City shirt. Only 110 miles to go… We swapped drivers and B shares the
passenger seat with both whippets - shedding hairs all over his black
suit. Not quite the arrival I envisaged.
On the way back
the dogs go rigid at the sight of the car, won’t get in and have to be dragged
inside.
At least the client was happy with her new purchase.
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| Norwich City by Brian Ayling |
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