Slack pants and much deserved apologies

Today started very well. I have a client from the Sunshine Coast visiting and the plan was to tour her around our factory, take her out for lunch and generally spend the day doing not much in the way of real work. Entertaining customers involves decking myself out in something a bit more flash than the usual slobbery I wear to the office and so I dug out my expensive black pants, ironed them, put them on and discovered that the crotch now sits mid-thigh and the waist band slacks down most satisfyingly. They nearly fell off. I'm not trying to lose weight right now, but I seem to have lost 3kg since the beginning of September. I made a conscious effort to stop focusing on weight and to focus instead on actions - the eating well and the training performance. I'm not counting calories and I eat a lot. I'm planning to blog about my eating habits soon, but for now I need to do a bit of grovelling.

As part of impressing customers I get to chauffeur them around in the company car - a BMW Series 1. The previous car was a Mini Cooper S and I'm not ashamed to say that I was in love with it and mourned for weeks when the decision was made to trade it in on something more practical - something more suitable for carting around the baby gear that was needed when my niece came along. I've said many harsh things about the Beemer, even when I knew it could hear me. I nodded in enthusiastic approval when the Top Gear presenters scoffed at it's clunky aesthetics and declared it an impractical and expensive piece of nothing special. Today on the way back to work from delivering my client at where she had to be, I managed to partially mangle the Beemer on the motorway and yet I'm perfectly fine - I even managed my workout tonight. If I'd been in my Honda I would have been toast. I'm sure the ambulance guys thought that yelling 'I take it all back' at the departing tow truck must have been a sign of concussion but, you know, I had to cleanse my soul. Apparently all those stupid things, like the tiny windows and annoyingly large head-rest, make this car exceptionally safe in an accident. Functional. I can appreciate that. As for the drunk guy that caused the accident and then decided to get the hell out of there.... too drunk to notice that essential bits of his engine were lying on the road.. like half the radiator for example... pffft. And, just to add that little extra edge of surreality to the whole thing, there was a third vehicle involved and guess what it had in it? Radioactive stuff. That's right, it had all these yellow warning stickers all over it and the Russian driver (whom was injured but not too badly) was wearing a bright orange suit. He was muttering about getting someone from 'the lab' to come and get the van. He was transporting something to the hospital.

So to the BMW Series 1, a big *kiss*. This may be the only time I ever blog about a car. Maybe I'll pick up some male readers, or is it just too girly to be actually thinking of a cars hurt feelings?