...while we drive over for our big supermarket shop. The Husband is a little bit pouty about it, but I have insisted we take the Peugeot or
a) The Peugeot will get equally sulky, and rightly so, and
b) we will come back with two bags of shopping instead of the usual five (five bags, £150, every ten days, on average, which includes garden plants, cleaning materials, toiletries, household items and alcoholic indulgences, as well as groceries and non-alcoholic beverages).
The Little Green Dragon can't get much junk in her trunk. I was warned by the previous owner not to be tempted to take her away on holiday as "all you can get in there is a couple of pairs of clean knickers".
I haven't seen the boot open yet, so I am not sure how true this is. Well, obviously it is not a literal truth, but an amusing exaggeration, but I don't even know how justifiable an amusing exaggeration it is. I think there is a spare tyre and a basic tool kit in there already. Add a small can of goof juice (as The Husband calls spare petrol) and a litre bottle of tap water for the dog and I reckon only the smallest of weekend bags is possible.
Think of the tiny little vanity case Grace Kelly so charmingly rocks up with in Rear Window (when she comes to stay the night to take care of an injured Jimmy Stewart, see above) which she demonstrates so memorably contains the sexiest, slinkiest of silky nighties.
I reckon that could be the extent of it.
Not exactly what I pack to go away. My meds and make-up alone would take up that much space. Without which no-one would want to be on holiday with me, I promise you!
So a decent supermarket shop cannot be done in the MGB. Oh, how The Husband's lovely silly daft face has dropped since I had to be firm with him about that. I have been almost moved to pity, but only almost.
As I know fine well he'll get over it when we take her out at tea-time instead...