I hate my car

Actually I hate the assumption by mechanics that I am supposed to know stuff about them.

This morning the little "engine warning" light came on. I wasn't in the car at the time; M declined a lift from a colleague to take my car to work only to have the light come on and some scary beepage from the dashboard and had to get a lift with the colleague after all. I have named it "the orange light of death". Just like the "blue screen of death" but slightly different, obviously.

You'd think that butchy = knowledgeable about cars. Not true. It's got wheels and the engine starts when I turn it on. I also know how to work the pedals. Go me!

You'd also think that oil above half full would be ok. But apparently not. The man said that these things (new cars) need to be full. Who knew? There is nothing in the manual (yes, I was standing on the side or my road with a dipstick in one hand and the manual in the other) that says this. I'm supposed to know these things apparently. The man at the garage (this was our second conversation of the day) said that that was probably the problem and will more than likely be sitting around with his mates at lunch time having a good laugh at my expense.

But it's not all that bad. My mother was locked out of her car outside Morrisons the other day with a trolley-full of shopping. And then again outside school with four children. And then again when she was late for a meeting. Just because the clicky-locky-thingy broke. Snigger.

The hunt has begun

There is something really satisfying about cleaning my car. I am one of those people who will happily spend every Sunday afternoon polishing my car till it shines. Some women are house proud but I am just car proud. The down side is that I have discovered that I have a hole in my shoe after some serious pressure-washing.

I am very fussy about which shoes I buy but this time it is more urgent. My trainers, after three years of every-day wear, have given up the fight for life. After being rebellious and not undoing the laces I have rubbed through the fabric which has caused the hard plastic bit to dig into my heel. As I am a miser at heart, all this means is that I wear thicker socks and some strategically placed elastoplast. This would be no problem but the soles have worn through and the upper bit is starting to detach from the lower bit (hence the hole). In short, the look a bit of a mess. And I have to look good.

I like buying bags and shoes. I can't stop myself from walking into every outdoor shop to look at the outdoor trainers and the rucksacks. I have bags for every occasion; walking, climbing, trekking, running. No handbags or little leather numbers. That is a small lie because I do own a small, dare I say it, smart bag for special occasions. Like weddings.

My cousin is getting married in a few weeks and I have dug out the aforesaid girly bag from the back of my wardrobe. I also tried on my wedding kit (a fabulous Kaliko suit which cost me an effing fortune but it so fantastic that I didn't care). The last time I wore it was at my school graduation and it still fits. It is a little tighter than I'd like but nothing that can't be sorted out with emergency sit-ups. And yes, I shall be wearing the hat.

Is wearing a hat at weddings outdated? I went to a wedding in Toronto and I was the only person wearing one. My hat is not very small (it is a full-on meringue hat) and I stuck out like a sore thumb as the only English person there. People came up to me and said:

"You're English right?"
"Yes"
"Thought so."

My mother and other female members of my family are wandering around muttering "wedding...hat...". Maybe it's a geographical thing. Canadians don't do hats at weddings as far as I can tell. Neither do the Dutch apparently. The etiquette of hats is a nightmare for the uneducated. Fortunately all I need to remember is "keep the hat on until the brides mother takes hers off".

But I am supposed to be an usher. How I am supposed to be an usher with a whopoff millstone of a hat is anyone's guess! Maybe it is not such a good idea. No of course it is a good idea. Be quiet Jane. Ok sorry Jane.

Unclear of my duties (I have never been married myself so I have no real information on the matter) I did a spot of googling and came up with the following....

Best man: Makes sure the groom turns up, is sober and is dressed. Also has rings.
Bridesmaids: Makes sure that the bride is well turned out and does not have the back other dress tucked into her pants.
Usher: Deals with everything inside the church like showing guests to their seats and deals with any emergencies. Expected to have sewing kit and other equipment for when the brides father splits the seat of his trousers five minutes before kick off.

Right. Got it.

The last wedding I actively participated in was for my cousin's first wedding in which the other bridesmaid threw up down the aisle and I started crying (I was five). I promised that I would do neither this time. It should be a giggle anyway. We will look like the beige army but we will wear our hats and look the dogs bollocks. Photos to follow.