My sister has been away for a month, during which time she lent me her car, with the proviso that I pick her and the children up from the airport. I apologise in advance to the environmentally conscious, but it has been wonderful to have a car again.
Now I’m not usually a car person. I will watch Top Gear (although the great journalism, photography and production values have a lot to do with that – not to mention Richard Hammond) but generally a car is just a car, unless it’s an E-type Jag of course.
But the thing with a car is the amazing freedom and independence it can bring. When we moved to Wellington we sold the 4WD – whereas it was very handy on ski-field access roads and back country South Island Southern Traverse type routes, it wasn’t exactly necessary on the streets of the nation’s capital. (Someone really should tell the Khandallah tractor drivers they could negotiate the punishing supermarket car park and school playground in something slightly smaller and less deadly – apart from killing cyclists, why do you need bull bars, exactly?)
Him Outdoors has a vehicle for work and we generally use that. We share a ride to and from work and if I need to go somewhere at any other time, I take the bus or a train. At the weekends we work out who needs it for sport or theatre purposes and if we both need to be somewhere, one of us will use the public transport system or catch a lift with someone else. For shorter trips there are always bikes, or legs.
But with a car, you can go where you like without having to wait on the vagaries of some one else’s timetable and route choice. You don’t waste time waiting at bus stops outside theatres or pubs fretting over being late, and you can leave whenever you want. You can play your own music or listen to the radio (although people do this on buses – the tinny sound of their headphones is only slightly less annoying than those who sing along, usually out of tune, to whatever they are plugged into like some intravenous drip).
When I first starting seeing Him Outdoors I was an impoverished student. He had already been through university and got his degree and a job. He was intelligent, attractive, sporty and amusing. We had similar tastes in music, beer, travel and politics; all of which was terribly important when I was 21. What most impressed my friends about him, however, was that he had his own car (a company car no less). Not only could he buy me a beer, but he could drive me out to a nice country pub to drink it. It was a much-underrated attribute by me, but now I can understand the appeal.
Now my sister has returned (and it’s great to see her again, honestly!) and I’m back on the buses or relying on other people for my transport. It’s like having a sliver of liberty removed and I have to compromise my schedule once more. Cars may well make us selfish (witness the appalling driver-behaviour where normally mild-mannered individuals become self-righteous road hogs) but they are certainly convenient.
Just in case anyone has been getting any ideas, rest assured, that my main love is still British drama and comedy – I thought that went without saying when I let the Americans have their day.
There are so many great series that they are actually too numerous to mention. On quiet nights I am thankful for UKTV where I can watch reruns of Cracker, Doc Martin, Grumpy Old Men, and Shameless. I have the boxed sets of various comedy shows including Blackadder and Black Books, which I can watch repeatedly, and often put on a couple of episodes to cheer me up when the dearth of decent television just gets too much.
I thought Cold Feet, Green Wing, Hearts and Bones, and Teachers were all fantastic, but they seem to have been and gone and the powers that be at New Zealand television seem to have no intention of showing them again. They have filled up their repeat schedule with endless reruns of Frasier and The Nanny.
Recently I have been watching Dr. Who, Mountain, Oz and James’ Big Wine Adventure, Robin Hood, and Top Gear. 
Much as I like Christopher Eccleston, I didn’t think there would ever be a Dr. Who to rival Tom Baker. I may have been wrong. David Tennant is excellent! The plots are still ludicrous and the monsters look like they’ve been sellotaped together, but the moving garden angel statues still managed to give me nightmares!
Top Gear is a classic with intelligent journalism, exquisite photography and entertaining banter. I know it's men behaving badly but I love it, and I don’t even really like cars (if it’s not an E-type Jag, it’s just a car) so that’s a real testament to its appeal. The spin-off Oz and James’ Big Wine Adventure is an excellent with more of the same combination of enthusiasm and geekiness.
Mountain had the most fabulous scenery and Griff Rhys-Jones; what more could you want? It made me feel homesick for gentle hills and humour. Robin Hood is interesting. Robin’s a bit wet and Marian looks like she’s been slapped in the face with a halibut, but the merry men are fun, Dick Allen’s sheriff is a fantastic pantomime villain and Richard Armitage’s Sir Guy of Gisborne is incredibly sexy.
I am eagerly anticipating the second series of Life on Mars – a fabulous Manchester drama with a preposterous storyline and compelling acting. John Simm and Philip Glenister are a classic combination – The Sweeney dragged kicking and screaming into the present. Naturally it has been on in Britain and my mum keeps threatening to let slip what happens next. 
I was recently very pleased to note the success of Lewis. I loved Inspector Morse and I watched this new series with great trepidation, worried that it might not be able to achieve the same cachet as it's parent programme. As it is, the sergeant has grown into a great inspector (although the directors have cunningly got rid of his wife - obviously they only complicate things and prevent the great detective mind from solving cases, flirting with ladies and drinking pints), and I really like his new sidekick too. Oxford is a stunningly picturesque setting and I can annoy fellow watchers by playing 'spot the pub' and reminiscing about my youth.
Him indoors is of course a Coronation Street fan – I blame the parents. He has watched it since he was a kid and is a big admirer of all things Jack and Vera. We now watch it religiously twice a week and he refuses to find out what happens ‘in the future’, although we are a year behind and lagging further every episode.
When we were first courting, I was an Eastenders girl – it’s a north/south divide thing – but the television scheduling in New Zealand soon cured me of that habit. I suppose I have something to be grateful for after all.
My sister has been away for a month, during which time she lent me her car, with the proviso that I pick her and the children up from the airport. I apologise in advance to the environmentally conscious, but it has been wonderful to have a car again.
But the thing with a car is the amazing freedom and independence it can bring. When we moved to Wellington we sold the 4WD – whereas it was very handy on ski-field access roads and back country South Island Southern Traverse type routes, it wasn’t exactly necessary on the streets of the nation’s capital. (Someone really should tell the Khandallah tractor drivers they could negotiate the punishing supermarket car park and school playground in something slightly smaller and less deadly – apart from killing cyclists, why do you need bull bars, exactly?)
Now my sister has returned (and it’s great to see her again, honestly!) and I’m back on the buses or relying on other people for my transport. It’s like having a sliver of liberty removed and I have to compromise my schedule once more. Cars may well make us selfish (witness the appalling driver-behaviour where normally mild-mannered individuals become self-righteous road hogs) but they are certainly convenient. 
