Angus is up early to take the car down to the garage to have the warning light seen to. The Old Farmers Christmas decorations are lighting up the sky when he sets off. The Land Rover mechanic is less than helpful. '' We're fully booked. You'll need to make an appointment ". Nothing but nothing will induce him to come into the forecourt and cast judgment on the seriousness, or otherwise, of the alarming dashboard display.
The Volvo dealers are untroubled by the orange light. '' These things happen " says the young salesman.
I'm led into a bare room with two tinted glass walls, one solid wall and a wall taken up with a sliding door. In the centre stands a car covered in a white silk sheet from which the bottom of the tyres stick out. The room suddenly fills with garage people. Four men in blue overalls and three likely lads in red. The likely lads talk animatedly to two micro skirted receptionists who ignore them with coquettish disdain. A few moments later they are joined by three men in suits and a man in a slightly too close fitting blue checked blazer. The blazered man turns out to be the sales manager. He shakes Angus's hand in an overly friendly way as if we're long lost and suddenly reunited friends.
A speech follows. I catch the words ' Inspired by Nature '. Mr.Blazer presents me with a small leather bound box which opens to reveal two key fobs. At this very moment one of the micro skirted young ladies steps forward and whips off the white sheet to reveal the Volvo beneath. All eyes turn towards Angus. Some form of response is clearly expected. ' Wonderful ' I say. Then, with all eyes still focused on me, add ' simply wonderful '. This seems to satisfy them. The mechanics clap half heartedly. Angus stands there in a state somewhere between bemusement and embarrassment. An hours tutorial on using the various computers follows.
Car buying today has to be a lifestyle choice. This strange Druidic ritual is my initiation into the special world of Volvo ownership. I can't see this modern day rite of passage catching on in Scotland.
The PONs are completely disinterested in the car. Sophie sniffs three of the wheels but can't be bothered to sniff the fourth. Bob doesn't even show this minimal level of interest. 'The Font' discovers that the Volvo has light beige carpets and no rubber mats. A call is made to the dealership to provide some PON proof protective coverings asap.
In the afternoon the PONs play ' Throw the Furry Fox ', chase blackbirds and bark at three portly lycra clad bicyclists. There is spaghetti for dinner.
All in all not a bad day. It is just as well Bob and Sophie did not accompany me to the 'unveiling'. There may have been a diva moment . Sophie doesn't do clapping.