My hero

Marcel the ancient Renault 4L is my hero. Despite having thirty-one years on the clock, he's faithful and reliable. He lugs us and the dogs to the vineyard each day with only the odd groan and squeak.

Which is a lot more than can be said for the dogs and me. As I still have a rotten back all the jobs, including dog-walking, are falling to Ali. The one thing she really hates, though, is the dogs barking their heads off in the car at every corner, stranger and dog that they pass on the way to the vineyard. The only cure seems to be if I creak into the passenger seat and hang on the Jonty's harness all the way there and back. Then they all shut up.

Which only leaves me groaning and squeaking when we lurch over a rock or down a pothole.

Thanks for all your advice, which I am following carefully. On Monday I have an appointment with Mr Magic Hands the Chiropractor in Béziers. Then I'll be leaping about like a spring lamb. I hope.