Yesterday, I said to my daughter, "I think I'm getting boring," and she replied, "Oh, Mum! You're not boring, you're age appropriate." Somehow that's worse - being boring because I'm old. The truth is that I've always been boring. I've never been a clubber and the success of my holiday is measured in the number of books I've read rather than the beer I've drunk. But I have also got to the age where, as the Long Suffering Husband is fond of reminding me, I've become incredibly angry about things that I have absolutely no control over.
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| A Man's car |
Today I had to drive Mr All Trades car. It's only a Ford Focus but I hate it. "Who designed this stupid car?" I ranted as he slid into his seat muttering about having only been responsible for the exhaust system. The problem is that I'm just not tall enough to drive it. I can't see over the steering wheel. "Did they take the measurements of the worlds tallest man?"
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| Looks like a spaceship - do women want to drive spaceships? |
The LSH suggested I raise the seat. "But then I bang my knees on the steering wheel!" I shouted, my voice rising in pitch. "Oh, you can raise the steering wheel. Why didn't I know that? Now, I can't see over it again! Stupid car! I'm 5ft6. That's not that short. Bloody men, designing cars just to make women feel small and stupid. No wonder women are thought to be bad drivers. They are being forced to drive around in tanks designed by huge men for huge men. We can't even see over the steering wheel!"
By now he had stopped listening or maybe he couldn't hear anything as my voice had reached a pitch that only dogs can hear.
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