My poor Growler is broken.
Recently, on the way to our quarterly event at Rhinefield House, it started making awful noises not far from our house, and we had to turn back around.
It would have been easy to blame Kev, as he was driving it hard at the time, but I’m sure it wasn’t his fault.
My Growler is getting old now, so it’s going to have more problems. Just one of those things…so it’s currently up on a ramp awaiting repair.
For anyone new to my posts, please don’t worry about me needing to see my gynaecologist. My Growler is my trusty, noisy Jag F Type. She’s nearly six years old now and probably due to be changed, but I have such fond memories associated with her - memories of going to the dealership on my 50th birthday, and seeing her draped in a silk cloth which was theatrically pulled back for a grand reveal. I love her.
It felt like a pivotal moment for me in my life because with the family all grown up and left home, I didn’t need to have a sensible car any more.
No more school runs, massive supermarket trips, dogs, buggies, bikes, bags, and b*llocks.
Just me, occasionally Kev, and the road.
It felt pretty epic!
However, in recent years, I have found myself driving Kev’s bigger car more often. It permanently has two child seats in the back, and a boot that smells of Labrador.
It’s still epic, but for very different reasons.
My brief taste of the lighter life was initially destroyed by Eddie, and then completely kiboshed by my incredible grandchildren.
The only sensible choice for my next new car would be a very big one. I want new adventures now - taking all the grandchildren away on day trips and holidays, along with bikes, bags, dogs and kitchen sinks.
But, you know what? Because things work at the moment - even with one car in the garage, Kev and I are doing fine.
I’m sitting in Costa writing this because I’ve had to run Kev up to an appointment and make good use of time until my appointment, which isn’t far from his.
Choosing a new car doesn’t feel high on the list of priorities right now.
I guess at some point they’ll both become so old that it’ll feel more urgent to buy a new one, but right now, we’re content.
Happiness isn’t about everything being perfect, it’s about recognising that there is no such thing as perfection, or even the perfect balance. It’s about being happy and grateful for what’s in your life right now.
When I was a busy mum, I craved moments of freedom and solitude. When everything was peaceful, it felt like time to clear up poop and have my shoes eaten by a puppy.
Not long after I fantasised about having an empty boot in my car, I was filled with absolute joy putting my granddaughter’s buggy into it for the first time.
Wherever you are in your life at the moment, there will be things you’re moaning about now that you’ll miss one day, so have a little chuckle to yourself when you find yourself feeling overwhelmed or knackered.
What’s the one thing you’re moaning about this week, that when you’re old and grey and unable to get out of your motorised chair, you’ll miss like hell?