“Scrap Man will be here soon,” I say to MindReader, emerging downstairs fully dressed at 9am on a Saturday thanks to my sleep hygiene.
“Bye bye Peugeot,” MindReader says.
I look out onto the drive, lit up brightly in the strangely warm October sun. Yesterday, we bought a blue Fiesta which is sitting proudly on the drive next to our old Peugeot. There isn’t much in it in terms of age, but the Fiesta, importantly, starts when you turn the key in the ignition.
“He’s here,” MindReader says, walking out past me to greet the Scrap Man.
Scrap Man looks from one car to the other and then back again. The Peugeot may have a few dents, but the Fiesta doesn’t even have central locking. “Which one for scrap?” he says, consulting a clipboard. “Or is it both of them?”