Tomorrow I will be taking delivery of 300 lyrics books. I can not imagine how bulky they will be; thank you Maggie for offering to store them, but I've had an O Henry ironic moment (please don't change that word to ironing, autocorrect, that's sexist!).
I had been saving up for a new car, but instead spent the funds on making the CDs and lyrics books, which is a much better thing to do.
Yesterday while moving Offsprog Two's belongings to her new house, I got a hole in the exhaust and will be off the road until I get a new car which I hope to do before the end of May. I am going to Liverpool by train for the Cavern gig, but until then will be Public Transport Only because the car is making loud attention-seeking Wacky Races noises and seems to be in imminent danger of disintegrating.
There are just too many things wrong with it now to make it worth fixing up. It's only a lump of metal with some machinery inside, but I have loved this car dearly; it has been a faithful partner for more than fifteen years and I have repaid it's loyalty by always repairing and not replacing it.
It has cost practically nothing in petrol or repairs up until now, and has even been to Italy and back and moved almost every sort of musical instrument you can imagine, as well as the Offsprog's stuff up and down the country more times than I can remember, been to the north of Scotland, Wales and most importantly, been not only a practical freedom giver but a symbolic one.
I have often felt like a trapped person, but I have always had itchy feet. Once I got the car I became free; I feel like I'm flying when I'm heading down the motorway to a new destination. I am going to love this tour, and I am sure I can learn to love a new vehicle too.
I know it's bonkers getting sentimental about a car.