In case anyone was wondering, the skills that I lack in parenting, dog ownership, cooking, gardening and holding my drink are not, by any stretch of the imagination, made up for by my qualities as a devious-stalker-of-hunky-men-people.
Two and a half hours, (she squeaks) I spent discussing heating systems with a chap who was clearly so over-excited about the prospect of landing a ‘live-one’ in terms of a customer to whom he could provide service, that not only did he introduce me to his family, I was also invited to his daughter’s big, fat, Italian wedding in August.
Over our ‘working’ lunch, which consisted of a cheese salad sandwich, a packet of ready salted Hula-Hoops and a side of palpable ‘just place an order pleeeese’ desperation, Heating-Specialist-Chris attempted to diagnose what might be wrong with my radiator and by extension my entire central heating.
Despite the fact that I was actually quite ‘getting into’ my theatrical attempts to imitate what a radiator with ‘issues’ might sound like, I was simultaneously refusing to move away from the plate glass, Police Station adjacent, window at the front of his shop. This meant that any hot CID officers driving past would be treated to the vision of me, displayed under the bright spot-lights, for the entire world to see, performing some weird, bunny-boiling, arms-akimbo, stalker-mime of an air-bubble caught in a pipe.
Subtle? I reckon.
When I finally managed to extricate myself from the results of my own stupidity, I stuffed both the five grand quotation and my photocopy of the wedding list (Ikea) in my bag and, kicking despondently at the paving slabs as I went, morosely made my way back to the car.
Arriving home, I was further vexed by the fact that some tit had, once again, parked in my allocated parking space.
As a result, I then entered my dwelling by viciously kicking the front door open, shouting at the dog to ‘shuddup you arse’ and then shrieking at the top of my voice to whoever was listening that ‘some tit has parked in my space again’.
Hurling my bag the length of the hall, I stomped into the sitting room to discover my ‘firm-looking’ CID detective perched on the sofa chatting to the Teenager.
Skids to halt.
Brief stunned pause.