I pull my coat tightly around me as the flakes of snow sting my face. I am hurrying to my next meeting, though hurrying is a little bit optimistic as I slither and slide at the slightest hint of an incline. Mrs BW had to drop me off this morning, as the elderly Toyota misbehaved over the weekend, choosing the onset of the cold snap to deny me any heating and to empty the contents of its radiator all over the drive. It may be something simple like the water pump, but the pessimist in me fears the worst. Its all my own fault of course. On Friday I bumped into Mark who works for the Princes Trust. We were discussing this and that, “Hows that heap of junk of yours?” he said. I assumed he was talking about the Toyota. Of course he was. “Oh its fine” I boasted. “Never fails to start”. “Quite a remarkable car really its done 150,000 miles you know.” The next day it lets me down. I slide past the garage on the way to see Sarah. The doors were almost closed, but through the gap, in the gloom I could just .see the mechanics peering intently into the interior of a car. I shuddered and trudged on. I await the phone call with a certain amount of dread.