Not so much getting out of the wrong side of the bed as falling out

IT’S been one of those weeks. You know what I mean – first you think it’s going quite well and then something happens that you hadn’t bargained for.

My something was falling out of bed. Before you make the obvious remark, no I hadn’t had one drink too many, in fact only coffee had passed my lips all that day.

There I was fast asleep and dreaming when smack I was awake and holding my head. I made contact with the bedside cabinet and received not one but three blows to my bonce.

I have decided that it must have been the new memory mattress that was to blame. Perhaps it forgot my name or something.

Later in the day (on our second walk) I was stopped by a little lad who couldn’t have been more than eight who asked me for a light!

My look must have alerted him because he saw fit to explain that he and his mate were building a ‘camp’ and “we need fire”.

I couldn’t give him a light but remembering my own camp-building exploits as a child, I had to smile.

I have told you about my cycling-mad neighbour Tony haven’t I?

Well although he still likes Victoria Pendleton (well done Vicky at the Olympics by the way), he has now embarked on growing sideburns in a somewhat vain effort to emulate a certain Mr Wiggins.

It would help if Tony had at least a little hair on the rest of his head methinks but I don’t want to hurt his feelings so I’m saying nothing.

I am planning a visit to Manchester to catch up with my daughter and her family and have been considering the train versus the coach because I don’t fancy driving long distances anymore.

What I bind it is to find out times and prices! It’s a complete mystery to me just how prices can differ so throughout the day, Manchester is still the same distance from my home!

I am considering hitch-hiking but with my bruised face and my legs the way they are I wouldn’t have much of a chance of a lift!