The Registrar swept past me into the staff car par, with a brief wave of her hand. I turned and watched her expertly reversing her 25 year old canvas-topped, long-wheel base Land Rover into a free parking space.
She descended briskly from the battered, mud-splattered vehicle, long blond hair swept into a neat chignon, tailored jacket and knee length skirt, pearl studs and necklace, kitten heels tip-tapping on the tarmac.
We stopped for a moment to admire her new wheels. A present, she said, from her husband, ideal apparently for towing a horse box, and she initiated me into the mysteries of double de-clutching and the necessity of always keeping a waterproof hat in the glove compartment in case it rains inside the cab!
"There is nothing" I said, "more stylish than a beaten up old Land Rover. With heels."