Words of warning and welcome:

This is very much my blog, so don't be surprised if this doesn't follow accepted patterns and norms. Obviously it started out as a blog about my cross-dressing but it has developed a great deal since then. It is a place where I can be anonymous and honest, and I appreciate that.

It will deal with many things and new readers would do well to check out the New Readers' Page above this and the tag down there on the right. Although there's nothing too bad in here there will be adult language, so be careful. If you think this needs a greater control, please let me know. Thank you!

Monday, 31 August 2015

Whatever You Want

Yeah, yeah, I get repetitive but this is a lovely image that
seems to capture a feeling, y'know?
Rainy Bank Holiday.

Supposed to be the first day of my week of prep but not because of a birth in our Family We Keep Up With, so Tilly is playing good Samaritan and giving them some time to sleep by being on baby duty. I get childcare. Can't complain about this, it's been an okay day actually. But I haven't worked as a consequence and, of course, I'm not now.

I may have been a tad rash. We took an electric car out on a test drive after I popped into the showroom back in early July because I had half an hour. I was shocked to learn there was a chance we could actually, realistically, own one ourselves. Shocked. A new one! Okay, leasing, but still. Well, we did the test drive. It worked well. I was expecting a lease offer of £189pcm, which was out of our range just enough that I would say no. I was also expecting a £1,000 deposit being required, too rich for us. They offered, and I shit ye not, £100 down and then £170pcm. I mean... I checked, there is a catch (of course) in that we would barely scratch the value of the car, but enough to hand it back after two years with nothing extra paid.

Vanessa when newly bought. How times have changed.
I'm a bit rubbish at car care to be honest.
Vanessa, our car, is falling apart. It's a matter of when, not if, the gearbox goes and requires about £600 in repairs. Same for rear suspension (around £450), and driver's side front suspension (£275). And then there are the unknowns. Vanessa popped in the last year if you recall, and the exhaust pipe is in need of repair (£300, hence why it's not done), and there's sparkplugs due to be replaced. The aircon smells of diesel (well, actually, any air into the car smells of diesel at the moment) and the engine is developing a throbbing effect. Basically, she's close to death. A New car, even a leased one, is starting to sound like a good idea. Vanessa managed an average of 55mpg over the last two years too. Bless 'er. The electric car? No gallons.

Library image, but the sort of car we will soon own.

Well, lease.
So I agreed, after discussion with Tilly (obviously) and we await a delivery date. We'll have a new car. We'll have an electric car. Nice. Very nice. Rash? Well, I'm nothing if not that. We'll get the pay-off (£170pcm is about £50pcm cheaper than Vanessa over the last year) when we don't do repairs and stuff. So, this time next year -ish. I expect to lose about £250 in excess mileage charge (we have 16k but we covered 18560 these last two years, but 8p a mile is okay and works out better for our finances than £189pcm which it would be for 18k miles). So... there's that.

With Tilly away of course I'm indulging, and that's welcome. Dug out the box and had a proper dig. Currently briefs and bra with my platform heels things and a dressing gown in case of disturbance by children. I've not done this in so long that I'm not sure I could stay in my dress that I had on originally (my first one, in case you were wondering). I'm listening to Parralox, because why not, and not having an ale tonight as I hope to get up early tomorrow and get bathed and do the pots before children surface. We'll see. Also, the car thing keeps popping up to demand stress. It's a big step, I have never owned a new car in my life and nor have I switched car with anything less than £2k on hand to make it happen (with Vanessa I borrowed £1k from my mother to make the £3k asking price, in 2011).

I have still failed to mark stuff, to plan stuff or read any more books after the excellent The Martian back at the end of July. I have failed to brew beer early enough to bottle and share and I have failed to get my mileage right first try. It helps, I find, to list these in case I forget them. Bit like when I talk to some people I know, I can ego-boost with the best of them but it helps to remember that I shan't get it in return - I burned those bridges very effectively a long time ago - Tilly has been trying (she even complimented me on a new shirt purchase recently, five times) and that is nice, but let's not get carried away. My daughter righted that one by pointing out that she loved me maybe slightly more than half as much as Mummy and about three-quarters as much as she loves her brother. I do, however, rank better than most of her friends but below the pet and her stuffed toys. Thanks, Girlie.

Car maths follows.

I wish to relate a recent series of conversations from Thursday:

Background - we had planned some intimacy, sex, a week earlier. God knows why a week in advance, but Tilly was pretty up-for-it and I'm not going to deny I was too. Now onto the middle of the Thursday we'd arranged:

"Ooh, my stomach hurts and I'm bloated and angry and irritable. Of course, I'm bloody on! A week early."

"Shall we commute our plans tonight then?"

"No! I want to do it!"

"Even with-?"

"I don't care. 'Course, we'll have to clear the bed."

I cleared it.

"Maybe we could cuddle beforehand and watch videos on the sofa."

"Sounds good, when?"

"Just got to check this chapter. Shall we say 9?"


9 passes, I cannot talk to her for she is messaging with her narcissist writing buddy (no, really, the buddy is an actual narcissist) and does not brook interruption, eventually, 9.20pm, she looks up and addresses me:
"I'm going to bed. Give me an hour, I need to get to sleep."

And so a month is missed. Still on target for the definition of a sexless marriage. Why am I surprised even remotely?

Car porn!

We got 1.08 miles per 1% of charge, and it charges at approximately
1.8 miles per minute on a supercharger. Not bad. Easily good enough
for our purposes.

Yeah, most people don't rate electric cars, I know, but most of the problems people pose would be just as perplexing in petrol cars. Like: what if you run out of charge unexpectedly? Okay, when was the last time anyone ran out of fuel 'unexpectedly'? And what did you do? Why, you called breakdown and got towed to the nearest petrol station. So, if it happens (which is very unlikely), I'll call breakdown and get towed to the nearest motorway service area as they pretty much all have superchargers now. 30 mins = 60% charge. Nice. Next!

What about range? Well, what about range? My daily commute is 22 miles. I can get at least three days out of that and then charge at the supercharger up the road for free. I can top up with home supply most days or even at work by just, y'know, plugging it in the socket. No, really. Longer hauls must be more difficult? Well, yes and no. We'll have to stop every 60-80 miles for 30 minutes, sure, but we have two children and, to be honest, our current no stops rule is pretty gruelling, we could do to slow down a bit on that. Besides, the longest hauls we have are about 180 miles (so, what, two stops assuming a 100% starting charge by planning the day before?) and that's not too shabby. We can charge at all family destinations and pay for electric if they wish, we just find home-charging difficult due to the lack of drive.

Isn't it more expensive? See maths in the main post above, no. Our diesel, driven efficiently (I am a bit of a bore about it: 55mpg but 67-77mpg on longer hauls), cost us around £201pcm for the past two years (including repairs, fuel, servicing, MOT and original outlay back in 2011), our lease will cost the equivalent of £185 including servicing, initial outlay and extra mileage charge. Actual cost of our car over the last year was £245 pcm, by the by.

Okay, I'm done now.

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