Time has spun round and it is time to MOT the car. Car maintenance is not something I can claim any modicum of skill in, so our vehicle gets the professional treatment. I say car, but it is more of a bus, as I have more children than I know what to do with, we have an almost-people carrier, without much oomph (but in my dreams I drive an Alfa Romeo Spyder or Africa Twin, neither suited to a superfluity of passengers, hmmm, wonder why).
But, I always remember the advice of my Gruncle; make the car look as if it is loved and cared for, and then the testers assume I have bothered (on the infrequent occasions I drive it) to check the oil. So this is the poor cars time to shine, literally, as I muck out the bags of crumbs, rotten apple cores, endless plastic junk, half sucked sweets rammed in corners; the dingy debris of my delightful little darlings..
This year ants are making free with the soiled beets. As I empty sweet wrappings, I see a column of Hymenopterans, who have discovered the car is a boiled sugar paradise, delectable treats awaiting in every corner. I am afraid I hoover these up mercilessly, taking the view, that the hoover is full of so many food items, plus Lego they will not be hungry or lacking in activities. The ants are not so bad, considering a previous year when I noticed chewed sweet wrappings. I carried on feeding them to the kids, as and when car sickness dictated. However, the reason for the chewed wrappers finally struck me as I carted a car load of boys (some of them not mine) on an outing, I had just handed the last of the sweets out, and the empty, shredded bag staring at me suddenly said- mice, or worse, rats? Could they actually get in the glove compartment? Vermin are one of those things, when you start looking for the traces, you cannot believe you have been so blind as to not notice them before.
Maybe I should clean the car more often...
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