Storm Clouds & Scooters

Just over two weeks ago, I watched from the window as my sickly little scooter was wheeled into a van to go for some much needed scooter surgery.

Much to Kevin's horror, I even waved to it and got a little emotional as it was driven away. But 24 hours and £120 later it was delivered back to my door, fully MOT-ed and looking as fresh as the day I first wobbled my way home on it.

So, for the last fortnight it's been farewell to the bus and a welcome return to free parking and pretending to be Italian, as I trundle to and from the office in my gilet and loafers.

Well, that would be the case if it would just stop bloody raining!

Alison is a friend I love dearly, but her horribly accurate prediction of 'Sunny at Seven, Raining by Eleven' has left me soaked almost every day and on the verge of doing her bodily harm with my brolly. Two days ago, it also left me with puddles in the soles of my favourite ballet flats and it's difficult to look cool under those circumstances.

But, no matter how dreadful the weather, there is always a little ray of sunshine and mine came bursting through the clouds when I paid a visit to the petrol pumps. As the dial hit the £3.85 mark, the pump stopped with its reassuring clunk that signals not another drop can be squeezed into the tank.

£3.85!! For just a few pennies more than my daily bus fare, I'd been whizzing around on two wheels for almost fourteen days.

I feel so pleased that I might even give the scooter a clean - twice in three years isn't too bad...

Transport Trauma

Transport is a touchy subject with me...

In an ideal world I see myself stepping out of a plush vehicle in my car-to-bar heels and tottering a few feet to my destination (or better still, being carried by Ewan McGregor).

In reality, we own a battered VW Golf that earned its latest dent courtesy of one of the poles that hold up the pet awning at the House of Bruar and a little reckless reversing on Kevin’s part.

But working in the City Centre means huge daily parking charges, which is why the car rarely ventures into the office with me and why I ditched our second car and invested in a scooter at the start of my year of not shopping.

There is nothing like free parking to turn you into a smug commuter, but when your little scooter hasn’t turned a wheel since last September and appears to have fallen into some kind of scooter coma, there is nothing for it but to take public transport.

I’m a big fan of the train, but the station is a little too far for me to walk to right now, so I’ve opted for the bus, which practically delivers me door to door.

I’m not a big fan of the bus.

Yes, it enables me to wear my car-to-bar heels, but in Glasgow where inclement weather means permanently steamed up windows, I am constantly panicking that I’ve gone past my destination and will end up at the other side of the country, walking miles in shoes that were only ever destined to travel a few feet.

Also, it’s incredibly expensive! I’ve worked out that it’s costing me nearly £100 a month to take the bus in and out of work, whereas the same amount of journeys on the scooter costs around £40. Needless to say, the mechanic has been called and the scooter will be getting kick-started back to life at the earliest opportunity.

My recovering lung might be a little alarmed about returning to two wheeled travel but my wallet is breathing a big sigh of relief!