OOOOh sometimes life is good.

The Teen is happy, the Dog is happy, the gruesome twosome (the heinous cats) have only slayed one bird this spring and the house move so far seems pretty painless.

And, ahem, I have spent the morning driving a rare Lamborghini Gallardo around Salisbury and its pretty surrounding villages.

"What's the fastest car you have ever driven?" asked the nice man, a racer, I was interviewing.

"Um I don't really know. A 1.1c Hyundai Getz?" I laughed. "No, I think it was the police car at a driving challenge, but I couldn't tell you the make or model."

The man gave me a sideways glance. The Teen, whose brain stores data like a Tianhe-2 supercomputer, would have been horrified.

I shrugged, nonchalantly and slid into the passenger seat.

"Let me show you what the Lambo can do then," he said. And with that my stomach flipped and every hair on my body was standing on end as the V10 roared along a very narrow side road.

I grinned from ear to ear, which widened each time we cranked up the speed and someone stared (clearly at me with my spotty headscarf and luminous pout). I felt alive.

Supercars had never really turned my head before until now.

With each acceleration it was clear why Lamborghini use a bull logo. The car sounds like a very angry one indeed."

It's loud. And with each gear change the engine rumbles through your bones.

"Okay swap seats you drive."

"Err really? I don't know how to paddle shift though."

"We'll go automatic for now."

I jumped in and put my foot down on a long country stretch.

"I love it. I love it," I squealed as I flew by a bunch of office boys, who turned their heads in the opposite direction.

"Why did they not look at me?" I asked disgruntled.

"They are, look in the rear view."

And sure enough, they were.

Yippee!