New Year’s Eve and it might be time to accept I’m 51. I don’t feel it but yesterday I drove to Bath in a very sensible Volvo, bought clothes in a sensible shop and then had a sensible discussion about whether investing in property or gold was the way forward in 2015. Hmm.
Yes, as the New Year’s Eve fireworks of time fall on the haystack of life, perhaps I should instead have a burning desire to paint the V70 matt black, pimp up the sound system and ram raid the nearest Gieves & Hawkes.
At least I feel safe in the V70. And as the average of of a Volvo is 29 years, that means I could buy one now and not have to worry about wheels until I require a mobility scooter at the tender age of 80.
Judging by the number of old Volvos I see around the place, quite a few of you have already cottoned on to that idea. Even so, I refuse to wear beige and still can’t stand Classic FM.
No, I think I have a few years of yearning for a Maserati left in me. I hope you feel the same. Thanks for reading and Happy New Year, whatever you drive…