Jaguar gone - not gone.

It has been a busy weekend. My son David, the Formula 1 engineer, was here to stay before going out to the Singapore Grand Prix later this week. It is several weeks since we have seen him - I was just recovering from my operation.

David is the practical one in the family and likes to set about the household tasks that I would have attempted (badly) in days when I was fitter. His cottage in the country is part Grade II listed in a small village in Warwickshire and he is gradually restoring it to its former glory. He has become integrated into the village in the past few months mixing with farm workers, parvenues and aristocracy. He is in his element there. His dog finds her way to the pub and sets up his beer before he arrives. He turns out for the village cricket team and helps in the country churchyard with grass cutting and weeding. He has bought an old Land Rover for the winter when the village is likely to be snowed in and is restoring a VW Camper in his garage.

He sorted out my fax/printer/copier/scanner, which was not communicating well with my computer. We eventually bought a new Epson at about a third of the price of the HP which had failed after 3 years.

Then he sorted out the front door bell, that had been playing "Twinkle, twinkle little star" every time our next door neighbor opened their electric gates. By delving into the wall he has restored the original bell's wiring and we will now know know when our visitors are outside. Last week we had visitors from church waiting outside for us to return from the shops when the bell didn't work.

Then as an encore he straightened out the doors of our kitchen cabinets, by fiddling with some screws.

We also managed to pass on to him various tools that we have no use for, like duplicate saws, a plane, a leaf blower and a some wood for his wood-burning stove.

He also took me out for exercise. Three one-hour walks over the weekend - on the beach, over the golf course and over Hengistbury Head - gave me a sore calf but a general feeling of fitness while his dog, Flo, loved it.

Our main purpose was to dispose of the Jaguar, which is 11 years old and has done 92,000 miles. Recently it has become a bit of a money pit with the last 1000 miles costing nearly two dollars a mile to run (almost cheaper to take a cab). He drove it up to Warwickshire last evening with a view to selling it. After his journey he made a telephone call telling me that he couldn't bear to do it. It has been so much part of me for the past 7 years that he is emotionally attached to it. Instead, he will do the minor repairs and servicing that it needs himself and give it back to me next time he returns.

I do love that Jaguar.