Yesterday, we went into work, as normal, riding in Uncle John.
After work, I dashed to the bank to collect £2500 (I had to have a secret code word and everything; it was all very exciting!). In a manner befitting all good Cold War spies, it was handed over in a plain, brown paper envelope and I buried it right at the very bottom of my basket, with my diary, a newspaper and my lunch boxes and things on top.
I met The Builder and Uncle John in the usual place and we came home. My last ride ever in Uncle John.
The Builder went around to Nick The Mechanic and handed over the money. Nick The Mechanic fixed the dodgy brake lights for the last time ever. The Builder and Uncle John came home.
At some point before he went home, Nick the Mechanic moved the new car down to where The Vixen was parked.
This morning we left about 15 minutes earlier than usual. The Builder drove Uncle John to where he works. I drove The Vixen to where he works. Then The Builder drove me to work and then headed back to his kitchen installation.
This evening, The Builder drove me home in The Vixen and Uncle John went to his new home where there are children and bicycles for him to play with. I hope he will be happy there.
Tomorrow we go to work for the first time in the new car. It's a Proton Gen 2 or some such. I think its name is Oscar. Its letters are YNJ which, apparently, is shorthand in America for You're Not Joking (would be kidding here). This means it is clearly a very earnest car. Which brings to mind The Importance Of ... Which brings Oscar Wilde to mind. I wondered why it was telling me so firmly that it was called Oscar!!!
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