Subaru Central

Re enthused by the spirit of Christmas, I set off this weekend on a hunt for affordable Paper White bulbs. I thought they’d taste wonderful with a little Saffron.


Only kidding, but I will have to make sure they don’t get into the pantry as my eyes are not capable of distinguishing them from Shallots * tries to stop mental image of guests spitting out gobs of Boeuf Bourgignon over new table cloth*.

I set off in our trusty Subaru Outback, safe in the knowledge that if the weather should turn problematic, I’d be able to get home before the turn of the century, unlike most of the residents of Scotland right now.

I headed for Bainbridge Island, and to a favorite nursery in particular, and parked up in the 1st available spot. 30 minutes later, I staggered back with my arms full of bags which were also full of bulbs, and gamely fumbled around in my trouser pocket for the keys. I clicked the open trunk (boot) thingy and heard the car beep, so I pulled on the door handle to open it, and, well, nothing happened. I clicked again, and still nothing . By this time, the bags were starting to answer to gravity’s call and I was doing a game impersonation of the Humpback of Notre Dame playing twister, when I heard a rather stern and irritated voice behind me. I turned round to see a rather tall and elegant lady scowling at me.

“What are you doing trying to open my car?” she asked in a firm, but very reasonable voice.

I looked ate her, then turned round to look at the car I was trying to gain entry to, and realized that it was, in fact, not my car. I had completely managed to fail to notice that the car in question was clean, new, uncluttered by kiddie toys, books and assorted detritus of family life.

It wasn’t even the same colour.

By now, I’d given up all pretence of trying to keep the bags and bulbs from scattering across the car park, as I tried to explain, both verbally and with complicated gestures that I was not trying to break into her car as she thought, but was really just totally incapable of paying attention to what I was doing. As I backed off, I pressed the buttons on the control in my trouser pocket again, and opened the door to the Subaru in the next space over.

“See, I do have a car, just like yours” I said, just as the bag of ladies underwear and shoes fell out of the back onto the ground. By the time I had put these back in the car, she had made her escape, and the sound of squealing tires and scrunching Paper White bulbs could be heard for miles.

Message to self;

Get a 2 CV. It might be easier to find.