Cars.

I used to be something of a car fetishist. To this day I think any convertible to be better than any hardtop but along the way I've lost the idea of trying to run a car with an unmarked wooden dashboard and a pristine leather interior. I've also given up on hoping for perfect paint, all my cars in recent years have had swirls in the paint and now some have horse teeth marks. Here's the culprit for the interior wear and tear:





Monique was playing in the water and related mud. Her other shoe is in that mud. It seems she felt the need for music and wind in her hair and so she went to the place where that happens. Note that the dust on the dashboard has been been carved in swirls through swinging finger nails. That's the swirling pattern all paintwork acquires if Monique's minder is derelict; you have to be some careful at the motor show.

This post is more about cars and autism than country living but, since we're having the donkey gelded tomorrow, I expect we'll shortly be gruesomely back on track.