Fleet Management

The time has come to effect a little fleet management I fear.   The current car count stands at 7 and whilst all work, only 6 are road registered and legal.   The seventh sinner is a interesting beast; a 1991 Range Rover, ex Police vehicle.   Purchased from the previous owner of our house its intended use was to tow the flail mower and generally be a workhorse around the place.   In reality I use the Discovery and have had little need of it.

We’ve run the car a few times and while the steering is rather woolly and the brakes quite desperate, after I put a freshly charged battery in on Monday she started first turn of the key.   What a wonderful sound that 3.9 litre Rover V8 makes.  Big Mike and I gave her a quick clean up and at least I was impressed.

So, what to do?   Mike suggested contacting a club interested in ex Police vehicles which is a sound plan and as you can see from the pic below the car still sports some of the bespoke cop kit – and there’s even more in the boot.

Not sure if I’ll have any takers… if not I’ll just have to restore her myself.   I can just see myself tootling round the lanes in a police liveried Rangie…or perhaps I can park opposite our drive and use the car as a warning to that damn motorcylist who seems to enjoy hurtling down our lane at an unfeasible and unsafe speed.   We’ll see.

Bank Holidays

Obviously there should be more of them.   Especially more like this weekend.   Wonderful weather and a houseful of family and friends enjoying a bit more outdoor living.

Anyway, the main point of this post is to wax lyrical about local produce.   It is nice that we are lowering our carbon footprint by eating local lamb and veg from our garden although, as Big Mike pointed out, as soon as he starts his Rolls to head back to the Smoke, we’re busted.

So the best thing about local produce is that it is fresh and tastes so much better.   The latter point is of course moot, but I’ll stick my neck out.

This weekend was full of home grown pumpkin, corn, corgettes and lamb from our fields roasted with our own garlic.  We also feasted on local crayfish and fresh caught brown trout, with home made mayonnaise from our own chickens.

Sound like the good life?   Sure.   And back to work on Tuesday morning with a big bump.   C’est La Vie.

The Bottle of Wine

Many thanks to reader Tim for sending me this little gem, which is for all of us who are married, were married, wish we were married or wish we weren’t married, this is something to smile about next time you see a bottle of wine:

Sally was driving home from one of her business trips in Northern Arizona when she saw an elderly Navajo woman walking on the side of the road.    As the car trip was long and a quiet one she stopped the car and asked the Navajo woman if she wanted a ride.  With a silent nod of thanks the woman got into the car.

Resuming the journey Sally tried to make a bit of small talk with the Navajo woman.   The old woman just sat silently looking intently at everything she saw until she noticed a brown bag on the seat next to Sally.

‘What in bag?’ asked the old woman.

Sally looked down at the brown bag and said, ‘It’s a bottle of wine.   I got it for my husband.’

The Navajo woman was silent for a moment or two.  Then, speaking with the quiet wisdom of an elder she said:

‘Good trade….’