Baby, you can drive my car

Entering my thirties initially seemed like quite a big thing, so I tried to prepare myself for a bit of a psychological adjustment. As it happens it hasn't been too bad. I'm older - there's nothing I can do about it, so I might as well just go with it. I've spent several years underachieving, so that sense of not fulfilling my potential is nothing new :-) There is one thing, though, that I haven't managed to avoid - the baby thing. I've never thought of myself as a particularly maternal type, but suddenly there are kids everywhere in my social circle. Almost imperceptibly it crept up on me. People started having babies of their own or acquiring stepchildren, nieces and nephews. Suddenly I was required to shop at the Early Learning Centre on a fairly regular basis. Occasionally I began to feel broody.

Apparently this is quite a common occurrence upon turning thirty. Your peers begin to breed, your parents start to drop hints about wanting grandchildren and then you read one of those articles about fertility declining dramatically at the age of thirty-five. Before you know it you're waking up in a cold sweat, wondering if you should just nudge the boyfriend and start to get jiggy with it there and then. Luckily there is a cure for all of this. You should make haste and borrow a car.

Let me explain: the boyfriend and I bought a sensible hatchback a long time ago. It's a great car because it's really practical. We've fitted camping equipment, sofas, a dining table, my rather less than athletic mum and all sorts of other stuff in the back with no trouble. It's been reasonably reliable and we've been perfectly happy with it for years. When we moved over the summer it was a godsend. So when our friends were moving flats recently it seemed like a sensible idea to lend it to them for a while, as they drive a slightly less practical vehicle. In return they let us drive their car - a Mazda MX5. On the weekend when we were in possession of said MX5, the boyfriend got called into work to fix something. Purely in the spirit of supportiveness (and not because I like the idea of posing in a sporty coupe) I decided to accompany him. So, there we were, driving around Docklands in bright winter sunshine, with the top down and Verdi's Requiem blaring out of the CD player. The heated leather seat was warming my bum to perfection and my pashmina was fluttering attractively in the gentle breeze. The car was so much fun! The car only had two seats! The annoying yet persistent ticking of my biological clock was silenced in an instant.

I highly recommend the Mazda MX5 experience to anyone, broody or otherwise. Escape the tyranny of biology through the wonders of automotive engineering. Just a word of warning though - put the top up before you drive through the Blackwall Tunnel. The fumes aren't nice. Mind you, they probably don't do a lot for your fertility, either.