December 8th

It's Saturday 8th December, I have a huge list of stuff to do, to buy and to accomplish.  Day begins around 4am, I've only had about 5 hours sleep but I'm wide awake.  I can't get back to sleep, so I eventually get up and jog for a mere 10 minutes but better than nothing then I head out to J's, I need to drop some stuff of at hers in case she needs it today, I head out to the Supermarket to stock up on essential, weekend provisions then head out for my coffee.  It's a very quick Christmas blend at Starbucks today.  Mr Regular is late arriving, he's only just arriving as I'm putting on my coat to leave.  'You're leaving early,' states Mr R, we are both, creatures of habit and so it's noticeable when we deviate.  'Lots to do today, see you soon,' I offer, then I'm off.

I recycle then head to attempt to choose a Christmas tree at a local garden centre.  Think I've told you before but I really do think that choosing a Christmas tree on your own is one of the most depressing things you can do, maybe it's just me but that's what I think.  So with this in mind, I need to be stealth like, get in, choose a tree, get out, as quickly as possible.

Mr Gleave, lovely and patient owner of the garden centre, once again helps me to choose, he holds up trees while I stand about 6ft away to view, it's very difficult doing that when you're Christmas tree shopping on your own, I've done it and it's tricky.  Doing it on your own means, plucking, propping up and stepping away, trying to get a good look before it topples over, very tricky indeed.

I'm early this year.  Usually, I'm choosing my tree a week before Christmas, but it's the 8th, so it's probably prime choosing-a-tree time.  This is verified with the abundance of couples choosing trees round me.  Mr Gleave is pulled away for other duties and so a helper is enlisted to help me choose.  After about five minutes, I dismiss the helper, I felt like I was wasting her time and, I felt under pressure to choose a tree but as the helper said... it has to be the right tree for you.

Anyway, after about 20 minutes, I found, "the one."  I have paid and I'm now ramming it into my car when Mr Garden Centre arrives to tell me that I'm putting it in the wrong way, who knew?  We put the tree into reverse and then re-load... the right way. 

I arrive home, unload the shopping, struggle with tree, put the car into the garage, pull on the garage door to close and I hear a twang, a ping and then the lurching metal sound of the garage door, half up, half down, heading towards me and pivoting at an angle.

There isn't a sole about.   The door is too far down to get the car out, I can neither push it up nor bring it down and I'm worried that it will totally leave what's left of it's holdings and will hit the car or me or anyone I can find to help me... of which there is no-one, so far.

Next door but one in one direction are out, I don't know them that well but neighbours help each other don't they?  And I do say 'Hi!' whenever I see them.  Next door but one the other way, is Fay, she's about 5ft tall and 7 stone, so between us, not a whole amout of height or muscle going on, which is what is needed at this present moment in time.  Good enough, Fay comes out to prop up a corner while I get the car out.  We both wrestle with the door for about 10 minutes, but it's useless, it's heavy, off it's runners and is barely hanging on.

Brother-in-law and nephew are both in work, there is literally no one else I can call, I am totally stuck and totally alone.  I think about having a wobble for a moment when it dawns on me how alone I am but then I decide to save it for later.  At that moment, my garage was open to the world and to anyone who wanted to take anything, I was faced with having to leave the car out overnight... may not have a car by tomorrow.  So I fire up the laptop and Google; 'garage door repairs north west.'  Two companies pop up, the first one doesn't do anything for me so I phone the second.  I've phoned a land line but obviously get through to a mobile.  I begin to speak then get cut off.  I call again and get voice mail.  'Leave your name and number and I'll phone you right back.'  I do, and Pete does.  It'll cost me £90, he can be with me in under two hours and if he can't fix it, there is no charge.  Two hours later and the door is as good as new.  Better than new, I feel like Wonder Woman because it only needs the force of one finger for it to glide open or closed.

I'm traumatised.  I know that it sounds ridiculous but whenever anything 'big' happens or breaks, my first concern is how much is it going to cost and how will I be able to afford it?  It's stupid but it's really stressful. 

The day continues in the same vein and I blow Christmas tree lights, knock over a framed print from New York, the glass doesn't smash but the frame breaks, been a pretty expensive day.  JR phones me because I email every weekend, didn't mail last weekend because I was so poorly, so far this weekend, I haven't had a chance to mail but she's leaving in the morning so phones me to make sure I'm okay.  By the time I've told the tale, I'm blubbing slightly, but JR isn't a blubby person, so I quickly pull myself together, I'll be fine tomorrow, just slightly traumatised by the day.  'Lemony Snicket, a Series of Unfortunate Events' springs to mind.  Things come in 'threes' but I'm now, well, I'm way past three.