Our Man in Arundel (but not at the weekend)

Remember my car? Of course you do.

This weekend it was put through its paces… in a very gentle way. And, I’ll be honest, I was pleasantly surprised.

It was time to clear the back garden. My girlfriend’s garden, not mine. (Mine’s great, since you ask). More specifically, we were clearing the twilight zone behind her garden shed. There was mud, there was concrete, there was an old bicycle, an old display cabinet and assorted sizes of surprised frog. Much of it left behind by previous occupants, I hasten to point out. Anyway, everything unwanted went in bags. The frogs headed for the pond.

First observation: there’s loads of room inside the back of my car – even with one of the split rear seats in place to accommodate an occasionally-willing junior helper.

Second observation: there’s a 1.75m height barrier at the entrance to the tip. My car’s a couple of inches shorter than the barrier, which meant I could drive past the Landcruisers and Discoverys parked outside. I tried not to look smug.

Third observation: the back window of my car can be left open when you’re driving, because it doesn’t stick out beyond the overall length of the vehicle. This means you can keep the tailgate closed and still keep loading. (Farewell, previously trusty and now worryingly unstable wooden steps).

Fourth observation: when you’ve finished taking everything to the tip, off-road capability is useful because you’ll probably need to drive over the verge onto your girlfriend’s front lawn so that the vacuum cleaner lead will reach your car.

Fifth observation: my car isn’t one of the worst cars you can buy. It is, however, related by birth.

Country Living: Our Man in Arundel

Well, I think it's time I wrapped things up on the Country Living blog. I'm heading back to my personal blog (i.e. here), although it's not usually updated as frequently as I've been doing with the Country Living stuff.

Still, I have good news to leave Country Living readers with. I've rediscovered Arundel's disappearing hardware shop, which has moved in with the craft and bric-a-brac stalls in a converted chapel. A slightly odd choice, even though I'm sure it makes good financial sense.

The car's in for a service - fingers are crossed that nothing (else) seriously wrong will be found. If all's relatively well, I'll get it fixed and will be happy. If not, it'll be time for another chat with the slippery-as-a-greased-snake trader who sold me the car.

And yes, I do think that the Country Living blogging competition was handled badly. But that's all water under the bridge for me. Good luck to all CL's bloggers... and thank you everyone for reading & commenting on my life. This is Del Arun in Arundel signing off from www.countryliving.co.uk

Country Living: Our Man in Arundel

So... Do you want to hear my opinion about the Country Living columnist competition or an update about the car?

Righty-o. The car it is.

When we left the story on Thursday, I'd been promised a phone call from the car dealer after he'd spoken to his tame mechanic. I'd not heard from the car dealer by mid-morning yesterday, so I called him. He didn't sound particularly happy to hear from me. He'd not phoned his mechanic because the mechanic was busy. What, sorting out dodgy motors?

So I said that I'd like him to. That morning. Or would he like me to get the work done myself and then pay me back for it?

Him pay? Heavens no. This was fair wear and tear. He didn't know how I'd been driving the car. It was an electrical fault, so he couldn't have foreseen it. He didn't have any responsibility for a vehicle that became unreliable after 6 days. He’d get a price and call me back.

I don't like hassle. And I'd already booked the car in for a service on Monday at somewhere I trust. So we'll see what they have to say.

On a rather more "Country Living" topic, it's the Farmers' Market in Arundel again today. (Third Saturday of every month). I'm in the mood for something home-made from the WI.

Country Living: a few words on the 'columnist competition'

I was going to post this as one of my Country Living blog entries but decided not to add to the debate there. So I've added it here instead!

I rather liked the late Kurt Vonnegut's line about literary critics. "Like putting on full armour to attack a hot fudge sundae", or something similar. I always preferred a knickerbocker glory but I can see the point he was making.

It's just not worth the fuss. And what value has my opinion about someone else's writing?

A couple of weeks ago I was talking to friends about the Country Living columnist competition. I remarked that the "voting buttons" hadn't appeared on everyone's blog - probably, I hypothesised, because the CL IT department wasn't up to it.

I also said that the company was probably
(a) overwhelmed by the volume of bloggers,
(b) concerned that some bloggers were writing about entirely fictional lives,
(c) worried that some of the bloggers might be celebrities and/or professional journalists,
(d) kicking themselves that they'd not published any formal terms & conditions for entry.
Obviously, picking someone who wasn't what they appeared (or claimed) to be would end up with the magazine looking pretty daft.

I didn't think I had much chance of winning because so many other people were writing so well and so copiously... but it was fun.

And then Country Living changed the rules. Because "several people" - their ill-chosen words, not mine - had expressed concern about fairness, there wouldn't be any voting to create a shortlist. There'd be voting on a shortlist chosen by Country Living. The voice of the readers - with a final decision made by the mag - became the voice of the mag. Which of Country Living's three favourites shall we choose?

That, in my unrequested opinion, is why everyone's so annoyed. Because "country living" (in lower case) is largely all about community. And, for a glorious moment, that's what we thought the magazine was about, too.

This isn't sour grapes from me (or, as far as I can tell, from any other of the non-shortlisted bloggers). But I (and, I suggest, most of us here online) don't like rules being changed during the game. Our opinions about writing may vary - but our opinions about fairness don't.

Country Living: Our Man in Arundel

As sure as Ant follows Dec, there's an inevitability about buying a car. Sooner or later - oh, alright then - sooner, something will go wrong. I'm told that marketing people call it "post-purchase dissonance": the sinking feeling that you've just made a dreadful buying decision.

I do my best to think otherwise. My glass is half-full, my toast lands butter-side up, I laugh and the world laughs with (and occasionally at) me. I could go on but you'd probably start feeling queasy. Of course, it doesn't work all the time.

Mind you, neither does my car. From feeling as though it needed a service - hardly surprising; I reckon most of us sell our cars when they need a service - mine now feels as if it needs an extra cylinder.

Fortunately, Arundel has managed to fit a small independent garage on the edge of town. (Thank goodness I'm not living in the real badgers-and-silage countryside). They diagnose the problem fairly quickly. It looks like £200 of engine management system. Oh dear. Time for a word with the trader who sold me the car last Friday afternoon.

"It didn't do that when I had it". No, of course it didn't. I wouldn't have bought it, would I? Points deducted from his overall score for making excuses.

He's asked how much I was quoted and is getting a quote from his preferred ("I get trade prices") mechanic. No mention yet of whether he's going to pay for everything... or anything. But there's also no point in fretting about it at this stage, is there? I suspect there'll be some bartering later.

All this means I'm probably back to public transport (and cadged lifts) at the weekend. Not that I was going anywhere on Saturday morning anyway - it's the Farmers' Market. And it's much easier to make successful buying decisions there!

Country Living: Our Man in Arundel

When I was a child, Land Rovers came in two sizes - square box and rectangular box. Well, that's the way I saw it. And they were available in a selection of cheerless yet intriguing matt colours that meant they would almost disappear completely when parked in the countryside (or, in the case of the yellow one, on the beach).

I wanted a red one when I grew up. I knew they didn't make any red ones for the public - you had to be a fire chief to get a red Land Rover - but that didn't stop me wanting. I blame the range of "Britains" toys. How I loved playing with toy farm equipment. No, seriously.

A few years have passed now but I've not changed my mind. I've become a bit more specific - I'd like a 110 Defender - but there's still something reassuring about 4-wheel drive vehicles, isn't there?

Of course, they're not always practical, which is probably why they come in for so much criticism. But when you think about it, the most-frequent complaint about any vehicle (with the usual hit list including Mercedes, BMW, Volvo, GTI and 4x4) isn't the car itself but the way it's being driven. And parked, sometimes.

I think you can tell where I'm going here, can't you? Arundel isn't really "the country". We don't see much snow or rain or mud in the town centre. But I've bought a vehicle with off-road capability. Not a Land Rover because they hold their value far too well for me to afford anything more than a seat-cover. In my defence, my car has a relatively small engine and can be switched to 2-wheel drive for everyday use. My mum and her replacement hip can both get in (which is more than could be said for my previous car). It's 9 years old. It's two-tone green and rust. I've not had a car for several weeks. I won't be using it every day, really I won't. You can probably think of a few more excuses yourself.

So please don't hate me. At least I haven't bought a hay-baling machine as well.

Country Living: Our Man in Arundel

Another lovely day today, so I escaped the tourists in town and headed off to join the tourists by the coast. And, while on my travels, I spotted this - written by Anna-Lisa De'Ath in Good Housekeeping magazine.

"I'm passionate about growing vegetables, but it's so annoying when you carry a basket of freshly dug spuds into the house and soil drops through the wickerwork on to the floor. This enamelled bucket solves the problem. (Bucket, £22, Garden Trading)"

Sometimes it's so hard not to mock.

Country Living: Our Man in Arundel

This may surprise you. I'm not a pseudo Country Living fan who's just here for the blogging competition. I'm an intermittent reader and former subscriber. I'm also a bit of a geek. (You may have spotted that in some of my blogs). Only a bit of a geek, mind you. (Unfortunately I think it's the brain bit).

Anyway, once upon not such a long time ago, I subscribed to the American version of Country Living. I'd discovered it to buy in downloadable form on Zinio.com at a rate that substantially undercut the UK version.

The downside, I told myself, was that there'd be a bit of a cultural difference - more pumpkin pie, less Guy Fawkes Night - and the advertisements wouldn't be particularly relevant.

Well, I was right - but not in the way I expected.

Now, I may be preaching to the converted, but I was shocked. Not by the interior design articles. They were similar to those you'd find in the UK, albeit a little tweer (is that a real word?) in a saccharine-glazed aspartame-crusted way. Not by the recipes: I'll tolerate zucchini, cup measurements and s'mores. Not by the featured people (even though the appearance of anyone really living from or in the 'country' seemed rare). But by the drugs. Allergy relief. Heartburn. More heartburn. Pain relief. Cholesterol. Vitamins. Each with a page of small print. Okay, plenty of choice but nothing too unusual yet. Anti-depressants. Hang on a moment. Anti-depressants? I don't know if that's a good thing - making people aware there are better solutions than the one chosen by Ted Moult - or whether it's getting people hooked unnecessarily - but (even given the different pharmaceutical regulations between the UK and the US) it was definitely a surprise to find amongst the gingham and lace.

Which brings me to today's rhetorical question. Are the anti-depressants advertised for people who are struggling to cope with living in the country... or for people who are depressed that they aren't?

Country Living: Our Man in Arundel

Lovely weather here today - and, I imagine, across most of the UK. It was so good that I did some work in the garden this afternoon.

Not gardening. Heavens, no. I sat and checked my email.

Fortunately my garden was planted by the previous owner in a style that looks good but needs very little maintenance. I prune a bit, I add the occasional plant, I remove dead bits and I bask in undeserved praise.

Joking apart, I did a little bit of garden tidying. The garden came complete with a few plants in pots - including a smallish conifer. I'd hoped it would end up being a convenient Christmas tree but the top part died - followed by the rest of it. So I chopped it up into small pieces and left it out for the dustmen. (Well, what's a chap to do when he doesn't have a car? There's no garden refuse recycling around here). Next came destruction of the pot: a rotting half-barrel with metal hoops that had fallen to the ground. Pretty easy to break up... but so many tiny creatures living there. Giant armoured woodlice, striped slugs, strange hopping things and something that looked half-worm, half... Oh dear. Just half-worm. Hope it's not lost anything important.

And finally, at around five o'clock, I caught a train to look at some cars. (Note to motor traders: please sell more cars near railway stations. It makes life so much easier if you don't have a car). Most attractive-looking was Mercedes with 165,000 miles on the clock. Rather too run-in for me. Most attractively-priced was ancient Nissan for £325. "Drives well". Tempted. Favourite notice on a car was "Former owner was a Reverend". Unfortunately not a Reverend whose car was celestially protected from dents. Some people are footloose and fancy-free. Me, I'm footsore and car-free.

Country Living: Our Man in Arundel

Well, following on from yesterday's theme, it's definitely summer. I've seen my first Arundel parking ticket of 2007.

Now, I need to mention that some Arundel folk are a bit precious about parking. It's hardly surprising, really - there's not enough room in town for visitors and residents. In the winter, the single yellow lines get used judiciously during the day (and some of the double yellow lines are used in the evening, too). No-one really worries too much.

But in the summer, it's a different story. The hotels and B&Bs fill up, more people visit for the day... and you're sometimes lucky to find a parking space anywhere in town, even in the evening. That's when the local police start paying a bit more attention to inappropriate parking. It's obviously that time of year, judging by the ticketed BMW I saw today.

And there's another coffee shop opening in town. Well, it was either going to be that or antiques, I suppose. Oh, and our hardware shop has disappeared. On a slightly more positive note, we do now have a used car dealership here. Sadly nothing I could afford except a Skoda Felicia, so I'm sticking to the bus for now.

Country Living: Our Man in Arundel

Well, that's Easter over - although not, I'm delighted to say, the end of my chocolate supplies. There's still plenty left here at home. Incidentally, I was over in Alfriston on Easter Day and was surprised to see the village chocolate shop (!) selling its eggs at half price. I'm imagining many an East Sussex man telling his partner that "of course he's not forgotten to buy her an egg" and he'd "just pop out to the car to get it".

Here in Arundel it's all starting to kick off for the summer. I'm not sure when our tourist season officially starts, but the opening of the Castle (31st March to 28th October this year) seems a pretty good guide. For the next seven months there'll be people walking down the middle of the road, people staring through my front window and people describing the place as quaint, lovely, cute and interesting. I'm tempted to produce a residents' "i-spy" book offering bonus points for the first person who spots someone driving the wrong way down one of our one-way streets.

I'm writing this with tongue firmly in cheek, of course. I'm a relatively recent arrival in town - and I've just returned from a trip to France that saw me visiting assorted tourist attractions and just about getting away with a poor grasp of the language. Besides, I love Arundel's assorted tea shops, pubs, bars and restaurants as much as anyone else!

PS: I've not had a car for 6 weeks - a combination of unsuccessful searching, a short attention span and a lack of convenient transport to go and look at anything. My carbon footprint may now be smaller than a Mothercare sock but I'm getting fed up. A decision could be made this week, I think.

Country Living: Our Man in Arundel

I hope you've not missed me too much recently. I've been in Paris for a few days. France, not Texas. Girlfriend's birthday.

And, as I'm sure you were hoping, I've returned with a handful of observations.

Firstly, if you're ever in a position where you need to speak to someone who doesn't know much of your native language, it really helps if you talk slowly. No, slower than that.

You. Often. Need. To. Make. Each. Word. Very. Clear. Like you were explaining the plot of a Victorian novel to one of the Teletubbies. A teletubby that's just woken up. Probably the purple one. Mostofus don't realise howmuch we runwords together whenwe talk.

Secondly, the French really like their meat. My chateaubriand looked as though there'd been a tragic collision between a cow and an aircraft propeller.

Thirdly, the French word for 'croissant' is 'croissant'. Talk about coincidence!