The Joy of Lists

The Seventeenth of June Two Thousand and Eleven. Friday.

Hmm. Seems to be a thread of nostalgia running through the last few bloggings. Feeling a bit reflective of late, I guess.

A recurring theme seems to be losing enthusiasm for stuff that seemed way cool when I was much thinner - I mean younger!

Cars. Not only is they a film, like, where they talk that's done on computors. They are actual things that you can drive around in. But I have never done the driving, nor have I desired to. Ah, the geek gene runs too deep. But a consequence of that gene is that while I never learned to drive I did enjoy making lists of cars!

Lists - the comfort food of the anorak mind. Someday I might talk about vacuum cleaners here (it's pretty much the same story really, just exchange the word 'car' for the word 'vac'), but for now join me in the 20th Century at my mother's typewriter...


I was fascinated with the unused red strip on the ink ribbon on my mum's typewriter. Intrigued by it, and also the mechanical splendour of the 'Caps Lock' key, I was inspired to compile lists, with reference to What Car? magazine, of all my favourite cars.

That's right: a list in red ink and CAPITAL LETTERS. Is it any wonder I turned out the way I did.

Oh, that list. I can't get enthusiastic about cars these days, but back then (adjusts rose-tinted specs)... Fiat 131 Mirafiori; Austin/Morris 18/22 series (with the top of the line Wolsley saloon); De Tomaso Pantera; Caterham Cars Super 7 (still going strong - it was Patrick McGoohan's car in The Prisoner ); Vauxhall Chevette; and not forgetting the Triumph TR7. There was some stonkers back then (Polski-Fiat 125! There's another!)

But my absolute favourite - perhaps the only car that could persuade me to learn to drive now if I were ever to get my hands on it - is the Vanden Plas 1500

Oh man, you have just got to admire the genius of taking an Austin Allegro, bobbing that grille on it and tarting up the interior with leather seats and a walnut fascia. I saw one in North Wales as a boy - couldn't tell you what colour it was or anything - but the vague memory of being confronted by one of these beauties haunts me to this day.

There were a series of these lists - I couldn't tell you how many in total. Utterly pointless in the end, but that didn't stop me bringing the full weight of my intellect to bear on such dilemmas as whether to plump for a 1.3 or 1.8 litre engine on the Morris Marina (the 1.8 had the nicer grille). Oh that the decisions of today should be no more complicated than that.

Funny, that's put me in a good mood, that has. I'll sleep well tonight with thoughts of a Ford Granada 3.0 litre coupé to ease me to my slumber. Night all.

More soonliest.