The Lady B used to drive a perky little Mini, but has now
gone over to the far side and cruises around in a big, studiously bourgeois
Land Rover Discovery. One effect of this metamorphosis is that she now looks
down on me when our vehicles pass, as they did in a car park recently.
I find it mildly disconcerting to be looked down on by the Lady B. I wouldn’t be in the least discomfited if the person taking the vulture position was some innocuous creature like a TV celebrity, senior politician or captain of industry, but the Lady B occupies a rather more rarefied plane in what passes for my consciousness.
Fortunately, there’s no reason why it should matter any more (and her dear mama still seems to acknowledge that even savages like me can be noble) so that’s OK.
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