I wonder if other people have days like me?

We picked the kids up from the airport; the plane was on time with no delays. The drive home was uneventful - we listened to them talk about the wonderful time that they’d had and their plans to get married there next year.

We dropped them off home only to discover they were locked out. No, they didn’t take a key on holiday with them. Fiancée’s brother had gone to work, obviously forgetting they were due home today and the instructions they’d left to hide the key had been ignored. The other house mate was in bed. You had a better chance of raising the dead then getting Adam to open the door. And this was with their dog jumping up and down by the window barking a welcome home as if his life depended on it.

Himself and Fiancée tried banging the door, shouting through the letter box and using the mobile to ring the house phone. Eldest and I wandered around the side of the house. Only one thing to do he said, he’d have to climb the twelve foot wall. Oh, great – why do I always end up on the wrong tag team?

So I gave son a leg up onto the wheelie bin which we’d pushed against the wall. Now although son is over six foot tall he still couldn’t quite get up over the wall. Could I pick that tyre up and put it on the bin? This would then give him more height. Yes, of course I could. And in the process I could also get covered in black dust from the tyre. Wonderful, I now needed to go home and get changed.

Anyway, son got over the wall and in though the back door which had been left open for the dog. They had been up for the last 24 hours – saying goodbye to everyone they’d made friends with, who were also going home at different times of the day and night, one big piss up I think. So we left them to go to bed.

Never mind, they do say that if the day starts off bad, it can only get better. They lied.

Just after dinner our neighbour knocked on the door, one of their chickens had got out and was now in our garden, could we see if we could catch it? Oh God, please don’t let the dogs have found it first. They won’t touch our ducks, but chickens are fair game in their book. They’ve already chased next door's chickens and scared the one to death – literally.

So we locked the dogs in doors and the three of us went outside to play hunt the chicken. We couldn’t see any feathers - mind you we couldn’t see the chicken either. After nearly ten minutes of searching with one of us ‘Sh-ing’ every now and again when we thought we heard her clucking, we eventually found her in the our other neighbour’s garden.

Now Christine isn’t very keen on chickens, so it was Himself and I that climbed over the fence and tried to catch the bloody thing. Our other next door neighbour has those horrible fast growing firs that people plant to make hedges. They cut these back last weekend, but they’re still fairly tall and between them and the fence there’s a gap were brambles and stringing nettles are fighting each other to see who can cover the most ground and grow the tallest.

Guess where the chicken was? Yes, what a bitch, and would she come out, would she bugger it. So whilst himself stayed one side of the firs (never in a million years will you guess which side he chose), I went through the firs to the other side.

We eventually did manage to catch her, but only after I got scratch and strung just about everywhere on my body. And going back and forth through the firs chasing her also ensured that I got hedge clippings all over my jumper, down my t-shirt, in my trainers and even in my knickers. On top of which I had a reaction and went red and blotchy all over. So once again I got changed.

I told Christine that the next time she called around to see if I was coming out to play I was going to decide on the game and it wouldn't be hunt the bloody chicken.

Never mind, the day had to get better after that. Ha!

Himself then pointed out that I still hadn’t brought anything to wear to his niece’s wedding on Saturday and if we were going out tomorrow I’d have to go into town this afternoon and find something. We’ve had the invitation for the last 3 months and I’ve been putting off clothes shopping since then.

I really hate shopping for clothes. I prefer casual clothes myself and I didn’t relish searching for a frock to wear, but Himself was right (I allow him be right occasionally; I can be very generous at times) I couldn’t put it off any longer and unless I was going to the wedding dressed in a pair of combat trousers I needed to draw on my inner strength and go clothes shopping.

Actual it wasn’t bad - I surprised myself. I found a dress in M & S, the first shop I went in to and then wandered around town and found shoes and a bag to match. It was easy, I don’t know what I was bothered about and I even mentioned that fact to Himself. As the dress was summery with a strappy top all I needed was a plain black cardigan and we could go home.

Some people never learn do they? Tempt the Fates, Sue. Go on – just how difficult could it be to find a plain black cardigan. I’ll tell you shall I? – bloody impossible, that's what.

We walked around every clothes shop in Kidderminster, very single one, including Sainsburys and Tesco. Not one of them stocked a plain black cardigan, in fact only a few of them had any cardigans at all for sale. I eventually managed to find a short sleeved lacey one in the Edinburgh Wool Shop.

So if it’s cold on Saturday it won't keep me warm but it will cover up the fact that a certain part of my body reacts to cold weather. Without that cardigan I’d be walking around all day with my arms folded.