The best thing I know for literally blowing cares away is to head out in the car with the top down. You may think England’s weather offers little opportunity in which to benefit from a convertible. You would be wrong. If it’s not actually raining and the temperature is above that at which I risk the rear screen cracking, then the top goes down. I’ll grant it’s less than ideal when I’m
doing 90 on the motorway driving safely at the upper end of legal speeding limits, but what the hell.
The negligible downside is that when I arrive at most destinations I look less attractively windswept and more as though I’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards. By the time I’ve tugged a hairbrush through the resultant tangles, the static makes me look like Crystal Tipps.
Friend’s 4 year old: ‘You look funny!’
Friend’s 4 year old: ‘Because you look like a bunny’
Friend’s 4 year old: ‘Because you’ve got a little tail!’
QED, then. It is just as well that the car is pretty enough for both of us.