Wednesday December 19, 2007
Now that petrol has moved finally over a pound a litre–I’m regularly paying £1.02 per litre, and have paid several pence more–I’ve had to step back and re-evaluate my use of the car. Quite apart from environmental concerns, economics dictate that I begin to reduce expenditure on transport.
The Ford Fiesta is a tiny, economical car by most peoples’ standards but even so it now costs in the region of £35 pounds to fill the tank. And, have you noticed, the more it costs the fewer miles you seem to get to the gallon?
That’s a lot of dosh, rather more than I care to sling around casually.
So, unless we ever move close enough to shops for shank’s pony or a pedal-cycle/tricycle, my daily shopping trips have to come to an end. I’ll do my best to revert to weekly provisioning runs or, best of all, to fit the shopping in with other vital trips.
Today, then, the car stayed where it was. No great loss. I have vegetables in the fridge and a freezer filled with vegetarian food. And so many cans of foodstuff there’s distinct danger of an avalanche each time you open the cupboard door.
Today we have to drive Graham over to the rail station for a trip to Bristol where he’s doing bar-relief for one evening at a very posh hotel. I shall call in to Sainsbury’s on the way back home to top up my supplies. Tomorrow, Thursday, I have scheduled my 6-monthly dental check doctors’ blood tests one after the other; one trip, and I can walk from one office to the next. It’d be cool if Graham’s return should fit in with all that but I suspect I’m hoping for the improbable there.
Do I resent the restriction? No a bit of it. Indeed, I take a perverse pleasure in it, planning outings and routine excursions with more care than before.
I give fair warning, though, that I have no intention of allowing fuel economy to trap me at home. If and when I feel the urge for the wind in my hair or sand between my toes I shall jump into the car and damn the expense.
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