The Cock-Pit.

The insurance company delivered the courtesy car for us to use while our own is off the road awaiting repairs. It is big, new and rather scary to drive. The delivery man did give me a quick guided tour of the cock-pit but was rather cursory, and I couldn't find the hand-brake; I managed without it until I had the chance to research the problem. While we were at lunch in the garden emporium, instead of racing Herself to see who could finish the difficult Sudoku and the easy crossword first, I read the owner's manual which told me at great length everything that I had already worked out but nothing of those details beyond my comprehension. Then it came as something of a shock when we made to depart after lunch to realise that I'd forgotten to lock the car, then later, at the super market the same thing happened. When we eventually arrived home, I locked the car and tugged at the door handle to check it – it wasn't locked. I tried it a few times before recalling that a friend of The Old Lady's had returned a new car to the showroom because the boot wouldn't lock. If the key is in your pocket, the door will open for you – or anybody else. My own car manual extols the virtue of the safety feature that, by default, the key only unlocks the driver's door so that no-one can open the the passenger door while your not looking and whip out the good lady's handbag. I have always thought it was a retrograde step to introduce a car key that told you which car it fitted; it was a feature that also put the cost of a replacement up from a fiver to a few hundred quid.

The straggly black wire is to jury rig the dash-cam which I now consider to be an essential optional extra.

I've just posted a few late entries starting with, "20 kg of Bees' Wax."