As LK says every time he watches me play tennis "follow through, follow through, oh for the love of God, nrrghhgrrnnn". So, in the interests of continuity, and well, sense, I'm following up on the last couple of posts. Thankyou for all your lovely comments. I knew you all had diamond car stories and you did me proud.
Firstly, a Honda Pilot. We got a Honda Pilot. It would have been useful to perhaps mention this, as several of you kindly suggested, when writing about my new car. I chuffing *love it*. Apparently so does LK who drove it last night to get milk - 300 yards to the shop across the road.
Secondly, to answer my own question, how did we choose it? Well, I obviously had to solidify my reputation as a mainstream maven, ergo it was either a Toyota Highlander or a Honda Pilot. We are sick to the back teeth of our Ford and its random ailments, and my Honda Accord had eleventy billion miles on it with absolutely no care or attention from me, so another Honda was looking pretty likely. Plus one of my book club cohorts recommended the Pilot over the Highlander because it's bigger and you can haul an entire soccer team in it. That sounded like a nightmare to me, but apparently you want to be that Mum, the 'chauffeur-Mom', because they're the ones who get to listen in on the kids conversations while driving little Xavier/Madison/Ryland and Dave home. Another instance of book clubs ruling the chuffing world.
I will miss Jaffa though, and as my friend the fabulous Ms T. reminded me, I will miss its automatic seatbelts that felt you up every time you put the key in the ignition. I'm sure automatic seatbelts did seem like a great idea in 1990, but bloody hell, if you're driving that self same model 18 years later and the electric's on the blink, nothing screams new car like being constricted to death by an overly-enthusiastic seatbelt that's overridden it's shut-off.
Finally, to follow up on this post, no Cinderella story for Harrogate Railway, despite some very Yorkshire pluck and stick-to-it-iveness. You can read the match report here. They lost 3-2, almost a last gasp equalizer, and I particularly love this comment, 'And in the last minute Davidson, who works for a building society, shot powerfully at goal from the edge of the area.' Stupid building society. If only it'd been a bank that shot would've gone in. Click on the link to the interviews if you can. I may have been away from North Yorkshire for a decade, but Railway's Manager does not have a strikingly Yorkshire accent. Unintelligible yes. If only I could muster that much enthusiasm on the greatest day of my life.
Also, I've been tagged by villa luna, and I'm working on it OK? Seven silly stories coming up. I promise only one of them involves my cervix.