I’ve worked for myself most of my adult life which means spending a lot of time on my own. I don’t mind my own company, though it is far too easy to get distracted. Even as I write, the kettle beckons, as it must be at least an hour or so since I last had a brew.
I also find it helpful to talk to myself, though doing this out loud in the local supermarket seems to be frowned upon. ‘How much’, the usual refrain as I hastily replace the item in question.

Spending many hours behind the wheel, as I do most weeks, I am quick to criticise other people’s driving. Last week, for example, on a late afternoon drive the length of the M1, it was the usual middle lane hoggers that vented my anger. A few expletives were uttered, especially at those who seemed to think it acceptable to drive in lane 3 of 4, when all other lanes were empty. The temptation is to stay in lane 1, but with the rise of the dash cam and the readiness of some police forces to prosecute on such evidence, I usually move from lane 1 to 4 and back again. The dope in lane 3 usually carries on, though some do partially see the error of their ways and move.

And as if to prove the point, a neighbour of mine found himself on the wrong side of the law thanks to a dash cam. He overtook a car on a road he knew well, and from what I can tell, the dawdling driver objected to being overtaken by a well-driven Aston Martin. The police prosecuted him on the basis of the dashcam footage. He was not allowed to view the cinematic action! Eschewing his day in court, he attended a dreary driver awareness course to avoid points on his licence.

I was also in London last week, and if ever there is a city to avoid with a car, this is the place. Big brother is watching you, with cameras monitoring your speed and also being there to take a pretty picture should you have the temerity to stray into a bus lane at an inopportune time. Parking anywhere usually involves a long-winded telephone call or unfathomable app to pay. Yes, the train is easier, but that means mixing with the great unwashed, and if you want to travel at a convenient time, the price of train tickets is eye-watering.

What else has ruffled my automotive feathers of late? Car insurance is making the news, and over the years I have made many phone calls to existing insurers in order to drive the premium down. They never seem to give their best price first, and there is certainly no loyalty. I have shopped around for many a year, though this year I was pleasantly surprised to find my premiums had dropped on 3 of my ageing cars. Only a pound or so on each, but every little helps in these financially challenging times. Oh, and Saga are the insurers in question, and though I may not look over 50 (who am I kidding?), they are highly recommended.

My plans for the coming months include trying to get my lovely BMW Convertible running properly in time for the few days of summer we will hopefully get next year. It is getting on in years like its owner, and it displays its displeasure with an array of pretty lights on the dashboard. It has had three visits to a BMW main dealer, and on the last occasion they resorted to randomly replacing parts to try and sort its ills. They failed and thankfully just charged me for an hour’s labour.

A Leeds BMW specialist has had two goes, replacing various sensors and the like. All seems well until I near home, and then the ominous lights return. A new garage across the border to Lancashire has been recommended, and I can only hope. The joy of old cars, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Now time for that cup of tea and perhaps a quick look at Autotrader. With car insurance seemingly so affordable for me, surely that’s all the excuse I need to add to the fleet.