Fiona finally goes in for her beauty treatment

So, the deed is done. Fiona has finally gone into the bodyshop to have her mangled front panel replaced, plus one headlamp, and (while they are at it) new number plates, to get rid of that blue part with 'GB' and the stars of the EU on it. (She'll still be SC10 CUR, of course) We are going to discuss how things have gone in three days' time, but I'm thinking that they'll need to retain her over the weekend. It's presently Tuesday. I reckon I won't get her back until next Monday. 

Originally I was going to get a loan car with automatic transmission, but the vehicle concerned has became stuck in the hands of a another customer who is presently down with Covid. We'd been hanging on, awaiting the car's return, and learned of the customer's plight only yesterday. 

Unwilling to delay the start of the work any further, I asked myself whether I would be OK with a manual-transmission loan car instead. I'm licensed to drive one, even though the last time I used a clutch to change gears with was when touring New Zealand in a campervan in 2007. In theory, then, it's a possibility. But in fact it's a definite no-no. I doubt whether I could change gears smoothly, or at the right time, or would remember what to do if needing to perform an emergency stop. And darting into traffic at roundabouts would be a nightmare. I'd stall the poor thing, or worse; and might easily scare myself badly. 

Did I really need a loan car though? The village shops were close by, easily walkable. I could get the odd lift elsewhere from friends and neighbours. The village even has a bus service, although I've never used it, as it doesn't go where I want to go, except past the nearest train station. Buses are not a routine part of my life, and I don't even possess a bus pass. I'd much rather walk, or go by train. At a pinch, I could get a taxi, another travel method I never normally use, but would just the once if necessary. 

Could I manage without a car for six days then? Yes I could. I'm not dismayed. I can still get out and around. 

Tomorrow is supposed to be sunny, so I may embark on a day trip by train to some exotic destination to the north - in other words, to London. Apparently Covid (Omicron) is now easing off there; and of course I'm fully-vaccinated and will be masked-up wherever it's mandatory, or else seems wise. I should be all right on the train, or in spacious buildings, or in parks, and I shall sedulously avoid crowds. 

Were I unambitious, I could simply pay a nostalgic visit to Croydon, where I worked (on and off) from 1993 until retirement in 2005. But it's just not exotic enough. It's all the way to London Victoria station then, twenty minutes further. The return fare from my local station, after 10.00am, with a Senior Railcard discount, is £11.25. That won't break the bank.

Once there, I'll walk across Green Park, stroll along Piccadilly, then make my way up Shaftesbury Avenue to the British Museum, returning to Victoria via Soho and Mayfair. 

Alternatively, I could go to Covent Garden, then down to the Embankment, and follow the River Thames to the Houses of Parliament, and thence back to Victoria. 

A real tourist's day out, mostly walking about in the open air, straw in my hair, gawping open-mouthed like a country bumpkin, and taking pictures with Lili every few minutes as a succession of long-unseen sights present themselves. For I haven't been to central London since August 2013, nearly eight years ago. At the minimum, it'll be good exercise. Easily 25,000 steps, I'm thinking! 

On other days ahead, I won't be bored at home. In nicer weather being carless would spur me to mow my lawns and trim shrubs. But it's too damp and chilly for that. However, there's always a photo project or two I can revive and push forward. I'll be well-occupied.

Assuming there are no hitches, I'll get a renovated and facelifted Fiona back next Monday. Then on Tuesday she goes to the Volvo dealer for new brake pads and discs. And then on Wednesday, she visits my cousin in Kent, lunching in Canterbury. And in the week after that, Fiona has to haul my caravan across Sussex for its annual service. 

My car is never idle for long!