HOW OLD?
The car is going. To make way for something new. Well, "new", as the new is older than the old. But that's a different story.
Getting rid of the car in a hurry, it seemed best to try some of the car buying sites that have sprung up in recent years. Which began with a surprise. The first one I tried rejected me. Because the car was over fifteen years old. Was it really? Oh, so it was. Which is when it hit me that not only has it been registered for almost seventeen years, but we've owned it for almost fourteen of those. I have never, ever, had a car that long before, not even my beloved Murena.
But it has served us well. In the early days it was perfect for it's primary purpose, of shuttling back and forth between Southport and Leith, with us, the cat, and a bootful of ... stuff. Always stuff. But once here permanently it proved slightly less suited to it's largely urban role. There were moments when the space it afforded was welcome, notably when stuffed full of stuffed cuddly toys, but it was mostly wasted. There were few long trips, to which it was better suited. And it became neglected and rarely used. Not what's good for a car. So I hope the quirkier nature of it's replacement will encourage us to get out in it more. Because sometimes older is better.
Which got me thinking about the other old things in my life (as opposed to old people and cats...). I am bad at throwing things away, as the packed nature of cupboards, wardrobes and shelves can testify to. The occasional clear out is instructive, but also frustrating. Because things you have hardly used for years are retaining on a "just in case, you never know" basis. Which wasn't the intention of the clear out. I'm not even very good at disposing of old tech items, always wondering if they might come in handy for some never-to-be-thought of purpose.
But some old is good. For both sentimental and practical reasons. Of course old books and LPs are good in themselves. They are part of my history, a resource to be returned to (maybe). But old clothes? Sometimes. Leather jackets are hard to part with, and the more battered the better. That jacket still fits perfectly well and, who knows, might even come back into fashion one day...
But top dog in the old clothing stakes rests with the item pictured above. My mum knitted that sweater for me when I was about eighteen or nineteen. So it's not far off it's half century. In that time it hasn't been worn very often. Some years it never emerged. It's still in great condition, still fits as well as ever (it was always a generous fit), and still serves a purpose. It still looks good on. The reason it doesn't come out too often is- it's too warm. Thick Arran knit, a heavy polo neck, this is a beast that only works in the coldest of weather. And only if I'm not going to spend much time in it indoors, or the sweat will flow freely. It has come back into it's own for the same purpose it was originally created. To keep me from freezing at rugby matches. And my return to Murrayfield, and what is now the Hive, has made me grateful I never disposed of it. It isn't going to all the matches. Only those where freezing point is a real threat. Above five or six degrees it's still too warm. A testament to my mother's skill with the needles, and her concern for my welfare. And the powers of old things.
