H? As In the Letter?

”I need a new car,” I said to Mammy the other day.  I am moving back into the house I co-own with the bank, and in order to get around I will need some wheels, as my legs are too old to handle walking everywhere, and at 38 (sigh) I really shouldn’t be borrowing Lilsister’s car no more.

Cue phonecalls to my insane UncleCarExpert for advice, which he promptly refused to give as he was going to accompany us on our spree.  This also meant that my mad AuntieFabulous would also be tagging along, as she is mad, and loves any excuse to get out of the house and meet people, even if they are used car salesmen called H – ”as in the letter” – yes he actually said that down the phone.

Mammy and I rocked up to UncleCarExpert’s massive house about 10.30amish, and remembered that a member of the Dubliner’s lived next door, which was nice, although we didn’t see him.  There was some home renovations going on, and rave music was blasting out of the living room, not really what I expected from the traditional Irish singer but there you go, it is the weekend and we all need to relax in our own way.

As UncleCE showed us his amazing back garden (which I have since booked for my 40th) AuntieFabulous popped her head out from the upstairs window, bra on and not much else, to say she was getting fabuloused up and would be with us shortly.  She then popped down, still in bra, and told us she had just lost two stone in weight, so myself and Mammy admired her (in fairness, she is a BABE, she may as well show us) and then told her to get ready.

Eventually, AuntieF found her heels, and a top, and we were off, to Dublin’s northside, which none of us know anything about.  Naturally we got lost, which was fine as Mammy and UncleCE argued in the front and myself and AuntieF talked about her sex life in the back.  She also asked me how my husband was, and seemed confused that I had mislaid him, then agreed with me that it was best to leave him wherever he happened to be.

Eventually locating H, who is in actual fact called ”Habib” (he believes no-one in Ireland can pronounce the name, are we that ignorant?  Possibly.) Mammy and UncleCE pointed out the cars that they liked, and promptly got into them and tried to drive off, until I told them I didn’t need a mini van, or a giant engine, thank you very much, this was a car that only needed to fit me and a handbag, as I was alone, abandoned, and would never have nine kids to squeeze in.  Jesus.

After much arguing, we selected a little silver number, which I very much liked, and which UncleCE pronounced to be ”acceptable”, so I took her for a test spin, well I sat in the passenger seat and UncleCE drove.  H gave us a dummy licence plate, which sat in the front window until I got a chance to drive and it flew out and onto the road, causing UncleCE to jump out and nearly get run over by those terrible northside drivers who have no manners or patience.  To conclude, the car was deemed acceptable, and when I got back I took a photo to show Lilsister, which became obscured as AuntieF draped herself over it, Monroe style, to emphasise its and her own finer points.

Some excellent haggling by UncleCE concluded, I popped back into H’s office to hand over a deposit and sign the paperwork, and naturally AuntieF came with me and asked for five business cards, which she got.  The meeting concluded, I shook H’s hand, as did AuntieF, but she also received a kiss for her troubles too, for I think H was quite in love.  She asked him to put a bow round the car when it was ready for pickup, and he looked quite serious when he said he would do his best. 

I do like to unwrap presents.

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