We were just looking out of the window and into the garden. R has been talking about replacing the car and we were juggling figures and insurance options and the fundamental admittance that despite our super duper theoretical morals of sustainable living and transition we will replace that old car with one not quite that old. At least not a brand new one. We will postpone our dreams of car sharing until that yet to be purchased car will eventually break down, until some of the glorious futuristic concepts of sustainable transport will come true.
Until the cows come home.
And all through R talking the guy from across the road was testing his brand new leaf blower which looks like a weapon out of star wars. He lifted up the nozzle (if that is what it's called) to wave to us, happy with his new toy.
The nice bit, apart from looking at the beautiful messy leaves all over our garden, was when we remembered buying the car before the one we will have to replace now. How I stood at the window of the third floor of the hospital, barely a week after surgery, while R drove eights and circles for me on the parking lot below. I signed the contract on that day, after I was told that all went well but that for the next three months I was only to stand upright or lie flat on my back definitely not sit down. That was 17 years ago. For whatever reasons we think this is a funny memory.