Bye bye Velma, hello Connie

It has been said that you never forget your first car. Ask anyone and you will get stories about battered old cars that have broken down, been the source of many a teenage adventure, or lost important parts along the way. But no matter how much hassle they are most people remember their old cars with a smile.

I am no different. The only thing that is different for me is that, unlike most people, I have only just lost my first car. Velma, my faithful companion of nine years has finally given up the ghost, and is now resting in the big scrap yard in the sky.

Velma has been with me through thick and thin, from the scary days of A’level exams, when I used to hurtle into the student car park and bump into the same tree almost every day, to the more recent days of the long drives to Bath for work. She has seen so many repairs to her that I joke she is a new car, and is well known to the recovery men, who have been called out to rescue us. She also seems to have a regular spot in our local garage, with the long suffering mechanic never surprised to see me. But despite this my robust little clio carried on, proving to be a very loyal companion. This was until she finally stopped altogether.

On a relatively normal Wednesday afternoon I had just come off the motorway into Clevedon when I slowed down for traffic. At this point all the lights on my dashboard lit up in red....and Velma would not start. Now I do not have a big knowledge of cars or their workings, but even I could tell that this was bad. The car oracle, otherwise known as Dad, was on his way back from work, so rescue duty was down to super mum, and my knight in shining armour Uncle Cliff, who turned up on a motorbike not a horse. After a few hours spent peering under the bonnet trying to explain different parts of my car to me he was none the wiser as to what was wrong, and I was totally confused! So car oracle arrived to tow my broken car home.

After a visit to the garage the next day I was informed that the cambelt had gone, and it would be too expensive to fix. So Velma was retired to the scrap yard in the sky, a sad moment. It honestly felt like I was losing a part of me.

But this sad story has a happy ending, and I am pleased to announce that I have entered the 21st century with a new car. Connie the Corsa stood out to me because of her nice turquoise colour. After being checked out by car oracle and a mechanic (apparently the colour is not a good enough reason to buy a car) she was mine.


I was like a kid in a sweet shop playing with all the modern gadgets like electric windows, power steering, and a working clock, complete with date and temperature!


So while I will never forget Velma (I still have my key) I am excited about the prospect of a new future with my trendy new Corsa Connie.

My trip to B&Q

There is something about the showroom sections of DIY stores like B&Q and Homebase that make me feel excited about visiting. I class them as the adult playground, the chance to try out the beds, lift the lids on the toilets and clamber in all the shiny new baths. However I don’t think Joe shares my childish excitement, as we found out during a visit to one of the ‘playgrounds’.

Joe is getting a new kitchen and bathroom, and like the supportive girlfriend I am I offered to go along and help him chose. I think the word help would be used very loosely, as I would bet that I was actually more of a hindrance!

On the first of these visits I pottered into one of the fake bathrooms, and decided to sit of the edge of the sturdy looking bath to take in the surroundings. I soon realised that the bath was not as sturdy as it looked when the side cracked, and I beat a hasty retreat with a red faced Joe close behind.

After a lecture about not sitting on anymore of the furniture wandered into a few walk in showers and lifted the lids on a couple of toilets. When the noise of me crashing down the lids and slamming shower doors reached levels that were too high in a quiet almost empty showroom I was confined to looking from a distance.

I entered the showroom on our second (and final visit) with instructions not to sit on anything. This time we were in the aisle where the flatpacks were kept. I think too long spent looking for the right pieces had affected Joe’s common sense, as he allowed me to go and fetch the big trolley to put it all on - not a wise move.

He was alerted to my presence but the sounds of me crashing it into a stone fireplace, though I still maintain there was a wonky wheel! After a few more incidents like this I was demoted from ‘the person who pushes the trolley’, to ‘the person who walks behind not touching anything’. A role that was nowhere near as fun as my previous role.

Apart from me dropping a heavy pack on my finger as we attempted to load up the car the rest of the trip passed fairly smoothly.

Though I do think my help will no longer be required in the DIY work, and I may just be banned from B&Q in Cheltenham.

My best friend Faye

A lot of people say that you meet the love of your life and potential husband/ wife at University. While this is not true for me I did meet a lot of amazing people, who have gone on to become lifelong friends.

In the case of Faye Machin (my tiger buddy) some of them have even become my lifelong carers! Poor long suffering Faye has spent the best part of six years trying to stop me from injuring myself, while at the same time trying to avoid me injuring her.

How often do you remember the first thing you said to your best friend? The answer is not often. Well, I can remember the first words I said to Faye, and in typical Laura fashion they were ‘I almost died!!’

This is no exaggeration, and will forever stick in my mind as the day I nearly met my end after taking a paracetamol. Still shaken by my near death experience, which saw me choking on the tablet and my friend having to perform the heimlich maneuver  on me, I entered the drama studio to find someone to recount my tale of woe to. Lo and behold there was Faye, merrily sewing away.

To this day I still wonder why she decided to become my friend her first encounter of me was when I shouted in her face that I almost died! The look of confusion on her face as I proceeded to tell my tale soon gave way to laughter as I mistakenly told her that my friend had done the ‘Heineken removal’ on me.

Fast forward a few hours to Faye being interrupted once again to be told that I had super glued my hand to a chair. She came to rescue me, and here we are six years later still best friends.

Over the years we have stuck together through the highs and lows of our crazy lives. We have many memories from Faye’s birthday fancy dress party where we dressed as Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, to the time when I fell down the stairs at a night club and threw my bottle at her head! We have laughed so much that it hurts, but also cried, and known that we can depend on each other to make things seem better. And that is the mark of a best friend.

So I know that in 50 years time, when we are both 76 years old, grey and wrinkled we will still be best friends, out on the dance floor with our zimmer frames laughing so much that our false teeth fall out!

“A best friend is someone who knows all about you and loves you anyway.”

My new Venus Fly Trap

I have never had much luck with plants, and the phrase green fingers is not one that is applied to me. When my parents go on holiday and I am charged with looking after Dad’s plants it is a stressful time for both him and me. So why then, have I bought a Venus Fly Trap, a plant that is notoriously hard to keep alive.

The short answer is because of the musical Little Shop of Horrors.

When I was about 16 I was in a production of the musical, which sees orphan Seymour find a mysterious plant that looks like a Venus Fly Trap. The plant, named Audrey II, goes crazy after getting a taste for blood, and ends up eating Seymour and his love Audrey.

Since then I have been fascinated by Venus Fly Traps, and when, on a recent trip to the garden centre with  Joe, I saw a selection of them I had to buy one. Though not on the scale of Audrey II I was still delighted by my new toy, and couldn’t wait to see it in action.

At first I sat and watched the plant, waiting for an unsuspecting fly to come along, and the jaws to close.

Nothing happened, and I resorted to making the jaws close myself, using a pen. However I found out that this damages the plant, and so had to stop my new found form of entertainment.

I am still waiting to actually see a fly go into the plant, as my room has been typically fly free since I bought it. Though that could be down to the fact that my plant has eaten them while I was not looking.

I am continuing to water it (maybe too much) in the hope that it will grow big and strong. Maybe I will end up with my very own Audrey II, though I don’t think Joe would be happy if he was eaten by it in the middle of the night!