Parking up at the doctors' surgery this afternoon, I headed over to the car park machine to get a ticket. This is a relatively new thing in our surgery car park, and there has been much muttering about it, but I think it works just fine. Thirty minutes for free allows for your doctor to be running 20 minutes late, and then you having to rush through your seven minutes of allocated time. There's even the chance of an additional three minutes to get any medication prescribed. (If you are sensing a little sarcasm in what I am saying, then well spotted).
Anyway, the car park machine requires that you enter your registration number. I got halfway through when it dawned on me that I was inputting the old Mini plate, and not the new one. So parking ticket eventually printed, I headed back to my car. As I opened the door and stuck the ticket on the dashboard, I happened to notice a lady sitting in the car opposite.
She was looking at me, and speaking to her passenger, and both of them were laughing. Now I had come straight from the allotment, having planted some tomato plants to replace the ones which the rabbits had gnawed. As it was so warm, I was wearing shorts, but I didn't think I looked particularly funny.
Coming back to my car three minutes later (just a prescription collection, so an expected turnaround) they were still there, and giggled as I walked back into the car. As I shut the door behind me, I checked my face in the mirror for muddy smudges, but there was nothing there, my clothes were respectable and I even had matching shoes on.
Dropping the roof down on the car (it's a convertible, so if it's above 16 degrees, it's the law) the penny finally dropped. The shorts I was wearing were the perfect colour match to my new car. We were coordinated. No wonder the lady was laughing. I suppose that if the car and my shorts had been white or black, then no one would have really noticed. However, my car is a most unsubtle Caribbean Aqua.
As are my shorts...