Breaking up is hard to do?!?

Just before we went to Belfast, my car went in for its MOT and, thanks to a hefty bill and quite a comprehensive list of advisories, my husband decided we should get a new one, which we picked up today.

Not joking, I'm heartbroken. I loved my old car. It was scratched, dented, the front was held on with duck tape, it no longer had whatever you call the bit that protects its underside from the elements (I lost that a couple of years ago in a flood) and it made a dreadful racket but it was a real workhorse and had never let me down in the eleven years I had it. I had no worries about damaging it (who'd be able to tell by this stage anyway?), which made driving pretty much stress-free, and my record for fitting black bin bags of hedge-clippings in it is nineteen.

Although my new car has a seven-year warranty and an 'entertainment system', it's really going to take some getting used to... and I've no idea how I'm going to get our garden rubbish to the dump in future!