Hurrah, the weathermen finally came good and the country basks in sunshine. Barbecues are stoked, plumes of acrid smoke billow across the land and pale British skin starts to redden.
I am already a very healthy brown, as if I have been on two weeks' holiday in St Tropez, thanks to the spray tan I had this morning. It was a "dry run" for the pending nuptials. I wanted to see if the colour would be OK, fearing I might turn orange like Michelle Heaton or one of the WAGs.
The prevarication over which motor continues: faithful readers will recall that J has mandated that we share one car instead of having one each: something to do with his government's austerity measures.
The trouble is, each week there's a change of mind about which car it's to be. Last week we were sharing "his"choice of car, a looker to be sure, but this week the pendulum has swung in favour of my more sensible choice, better suited to pounding the motorways and clocking up the mileage.
Anyway, despite poring over the car brochures for hours on end, J has to see the choices of alloy wheels again (another extra, grrr), so off we went to Loughton and the Sytner showroom. I'm surprised they're not on first name terms with us. I took this photo on the way.
My strategy is to order my choice before he changes his mind again. And they said women are ditherers.....
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