Showing posts with label I don't like espaces. Show all posts
Showing posts with label I don't like espaces. Show all posts

Friday, January 11, 2008

Names and stuff

Just returned from Kitchen Witch blog and she is musing on names either for expected pudding or a new chicken. For one reason or another I am thinking, just toying with the idea you understand, of getting chickens...don't worry it will probably soon pass off. I have been reading a lot of greeny blogs just lately and they are inspiring. We shall see...
Anyway. KW is favouring Nogbad as a cool name. We had a swift poll in the house and have gone for Illia Kuriakin and Napoleon Solo as cool names. That last being maybe the coolest name in the 'verse.
"Why," I asked "did we not name the cat Napoleon Solo?"
"He acts like Napoleon" said V.
I looked at Zac, bonelessly asleep as usual on the shoebox on the windowsill and replied "He doesn't really does he..."
So...cool names. What are your faves?

And we have to get a new car. My poor dear Oboe (yes I name my cars) Oboe's electrics have gone so she is smelling like very dead fish when the ignition is on.
It might even be dangerous but V doesn't mind. Rose, however, is vociferous in her complaints at the smell (it really is very bad) and no one gets vociferous like Rose, except perhaps Lily. But Lily doesn't care really as long as she gets to hurtle round the corners shrieking Wheeee! she is a happy bunny.
Anyway, a new car. Not a new new car, but an old new car. I am sticking to my guns for an estate, AC, electric windows and a decent sound system. That last means a CD player as opposed to woofers and tweeters in the boot. I need bootspace for coal and wood and prams and groceries and spinning wheels and stuff - I'm easy to please
Peugeot 406 for preference because they corner so well and living where we do, corners are important. But I will go so far as to test drive a volvo, an astra or a mondeo. Not exactly high maintenance woman eh? Right. So then V looks at an Espace... and I refuse as all pretensions to sexiness just disappear when one drives an espace. He had an excellent opportunity to tell me that I could make even an espace look sexy just 'cos I am that hot, but no..he tells me that a peugeot estate does not a Bond girl make. He is not taking this at all seriously.

So I suggest that he gets the family car and I get a triumph spitfire. No deal.

My last bid? A horse and cart. Seriously! What with tax, insurance, the prohibitive cost of petrol I think it is both a sensible and pleasingly eccentric option. V is ignoring me. I might get chickens but I am not getting an espace. I would rather get rabies than get an espace.

If you are reading this and are desperately fond of your espace and think that you are indeed sex on legs then sorry, sorry, no offense and I think your funny waistcoat and thirteen rolls of rubber wallpaper are also very nice.