Yeah so my first blog post back is not about the campaign, or something sad in the news, or how nice ladies in Subway recognise me now.
It's about how sad I am because my car is broken.
I am very sad. Heartbroken in fact. I love her. I love her so much that I pat her at the end of every journey. And take photos of her next to others like her (although this picture was taken by the owner of the one on the left, turns out we all take photos of our cars). And I tell everyone about her so much that I had to get "stop talking" tattooed on myself to remind me that no one cares.
She is a useless car. She eats petrol. She is lacking in the normal number of doors. She will not go up tall hills. She is too small. And now I cannot change gear without both hands on the gearstick which is not quite practical. But if it is too expensive to fix her I will actually cry.
Or wait until it is sunny and fix her myself. That's what we modern girls do now.
