I can't catch a bus to my other job, I can't catch a bus in the evening and I can't just nip out to get something.

I try to be environmentally friendly – by which I actually mean I can't afford to fly abroad on holiday, or put the heating on much. But I do wash up yoghurt pots for recycling and that sort of thing.

However, cars are a different matter. You can survive round here without one, but I don't think people always appreciate how much it affects your quality of life. The only reason I'm not housebound at the moment is because other people are going out of their way to give me lifts in their cars.

My village has a pretty decent bus service, but it's difficult to get anywhere that's not on the one route.

And the fact of the matter is that even if everyone round here switched to public transport, there still wouldn't be enough people for all the required routes to be viable.

I agree with encouraging people to make fewer journeys, but us rural motorists shouldn't be penalised for wanting to lead our lives. If and when I get my car back, it will be getting a big hug from me.


It appears that I have much to learn about the world of retail and commerce. I came to this conclusion after the weekly trek round the supermarket.

In the freezer section I triumphantly swooped on the last box of potato waffles (I have a very sophisticated palate, you know).
However, the packaging was damaged, so we had it swapped for a new box from "out back".

But when we got to the checkout, it wouldn't scan. A supervisor was called for.

"Oh, they're not on the system. You can't have them."

And the box was promptly removed from us.

So, to summarise: They sell waffles, they have waffles on display, I want to buy waffles, I cannot have waffles.

But, somehow, this approach to business has led to the supermarket being one of the country's most successful companies.

So I suppose there must be some logic to it. I just can't see it.