Well OK, I’ve had the car for three years today, but it’s actually six years old.

In the time since I bought it, I’ve doubled the mileage on it (57,000 to 114,000) which means I’ve averaged 19,000 miles a year in the damn thing. Thank God last year was a lower-mileage year, or I’d be well over the 20,000 per year. At the moment I’m doing about 350-400 miles a week in it, which is going to break out to be about the same again this coming year.

In that time I’ve had one serious clonk (December ‘09 with the fence) and three lesser ones (two involving deer, one just a smashed door mirror) as well as a range of scrapes that got documented a while back, although they’re all gone now thanks to the bodyshop farce after the December ‘09 crunch.

Somehow I’ve managed to not get any points on my licence – not even ones for speeding, which is nothing short of miraculous – and I’ve done well.

The only downside is that I’m back to square one with the insurance, having lost my two years of no-claims back in December. Ah well. Swings and roundabouts, and all that.

I don’t know how much longer the Mondeo will go for – it’s started having issues and needing work, as I mentioned when it got the MOT last week. But I’ll keep it ’til it becomes either too expensive or too much of a pain in the arse.

Yet again, my foot is sore, to the point of making me limp when I walk. (Ooer, matron, Fnarr Fnarr, etc etc.)

I don’t know what the hell I do to it – I woke up yesterday morning with it being a bit sore, and it’s progressed from there.

Most annoying. It’ll sort itself out over the next couple of days, but in the meantime it’s a pain in the bits.

Tonight’s actually been fairly productive.

With Herself away I’ve been able to catch up on some rubbish TV and get cracking on the website work I planned to do this weekend.

So all in all a quiet night, but a productive one.

This weekend was supposed to be a quiet one. Herself was supposed to be really busy throughout, and staying elsewhere for two nights. She was going to be out on Friday at the theatre, on a course over the weekend, and then down to Basingstoke for a work-related course on Monday. Which meant a nice quiet weekend for me – allbeit looking after the animals etc. – and getting some outstanding work done.

At the last minute though, the weekend course got cancelled “because there weren’t enough people signed up for it”. No bad thing really, it gives Herself  the wekeend back, but still quite a pain in the arse – especially considering that it had been paid for, along with buying specific materials for the course. We’ll get the money back for the course, that’s not an issue. It’s just all deeply annoying.

So the weekend changed a bit, and today I also ended up driving over to Fakenham to pick up the stuff we’d left there. (at the request of the course organisers)

Still, I’ll do some of the necessary work tomorrow while Herself’s off down to Basingstoke for Monday. Better than nowt.

In a couple of weekends we’ll be going to the O2 to see Peter Gabriel in concert. (Again)  So I booked the car-parking a week or so ago.

To be fair, booking the parking spot is pretty easy, and they even give you the name of the gig, so you can check you’re booking for the right day.

Only it turns out that Peter Gabriel’s now doing two nights at the O2, right after each other. You can see where this is going, can’t you?

So yeah, I need to find out whether I can refund the one on the wrong fucking day.

What a twat.

Few things say “Good Morning” like putting your foot into a still-warm pool of dog vomit in the dark.

Mind you, I suppose it can only improve from here.  It’d fucking better improve from here, anyway. If it gets any worse I’m going to give up completely.