Evening. I am sitting to write this at 9:11pm, in my pyjamas. I’ve been meaning to sit down to post for a couple of days, but I’ve accidentally had the most stressful week of 2018 so far and got sidetracked. The Mini went in for surgery yesterday for something called a faulty ABS pump, and I have been given a Ford Focus in the mean time. I have a feeling that Ford Focuses are my automotive equivalent of a beige sofa.
Because I had cars on my mind, after I took the Mini in I rang my insurance company to see if I could get a better price for my insurance (the ABS fix and accompanying minor fixes are going to eat all my savings, so every little helps and all that). They couldn’t do me a deal, but mid-conversation it transpired that there’s been a minor – okay, major – administrative error on my documents for months that might, technically, have invalidated the entire policy. Oops. When I asked about updating it, I got quoted an extra hundred quid a month on my bill and suffered a minor heart attack. Anyway, a friendzied half an hour on Go Compare later, I had a brand new policy with the correct details that was cheaper than the one I had to start with so I suppose that’s all right then, innit. The English bureaucrat in me spent all day tempted to write a letter to my old insurers about their shitty admin (I have been on the phone to them FOUR TIMES in the last year, and they’ve asked the same questions all four times). The shitty millennial in me wanted to transcribe the entire drama into a Facebook post and set up a GoFundMe to recover my savings.
In the end I ate ice cream and had a bath.
I’m not sure why I’m telling you all this, because car insurance is not a sexy subject and I’m mortified that I didn’t pick up on the admin fuck up myself. I was reading a friend from school’s blog post about self esteem in blogging recently (Eva is a fashion blogger. I went to school with a fashion blogger! We were in the same Religious Studies class, ha) and although I am clearly not in fashion, it got me thinking about the ‘type’ of blogger I am. I’ve spent the last four or five years trying to monetise this site, with rules about writing proper topics at my proper desk in my proper clothes, but here I am at 9:30pm in my pyjamas. I’m in front of the telly watching Kat Slater start a cleaning business. So I reckon that, despite all attempts to become an authority blogger or a hobby blogger or a purple hair-enthusiast blogger, Indifferent Ignorance has always been a journal. So here I am, telling all six of you about car insurance.
OH MY TWENTIES ARE EXCITING.