Baby, You Can Drive My Car...

I've grown accustomed to my body over the years which is not to say that given an awful lot of money and more time I wouldn't try to change a few things: like, say, a couple of centimetres off the boobs, a few more off the tummy and definitely a bottom lift and just don't get me started on my face. But I've never considered my legs in all this until I bought my new-to-me car which is so not the one in the photo..

Mine's a Golf and there truly aren't enough superlatives in the language to tell you how I feel about this car; next Valentine's Day I'll be sending it a card is what I'm saying.

Apart from being a fabulous ride bonus features include the fact that it looks like every other car on the road. This is useful partly because thieves won't want to steal it as long as I don't do anything stupid like leaving it unlocked with the keys in.

And partly because my last car was fluorescent green. It was so bright I was unmistakable so everyone everywhere knew where I'd been and who'd been there with me and then they'd tell me about it as in: "You were at the supermarket yesterday" Right..

My only teeny weeny complaint, and I'm probably being picky, is that to push my foot down on the clutch I have to have the seat so far forward and so upright that the steering wheel is wedged under my ribcage and my nose is thrust up against the windscreen so that changing the radio station or just opening the window in this position would be tricky even for Houdini.

I've been doing a tiny bit of research and I realise that the fault is that my legs are too short..I'm average height but my legs are simply too short...and I never knew.