Blog could do better

I'd forgotten what we'd left in the garage.

October at last with nineteen long days to unfold before one of my more regular birthdays occur, every year they come around, just like clockwork. Because of this and nothing else really I regard October with some more affection than any of the rest, it's my birthday month so it must be better than the other eleven sorry segments. I think my car needs MoT'd this month, a probe will be gingerly placed up it's exhaust pipe and the tyres kicked I'd imagine, but I'm staying in denial of this until I have to pick up the phone and book a test then hear the bad news that is due to break.

To celebrate the first day of my birthday month (after an irritating day at work, the kind where you realise you seldom ever get things right and your vocabulary is far too small for an adult) I bowled into the local Tesco in the vain hope of finding some tasty teatime bargain in the stacked and crowded shelves. As I joined the shuffling, shopping masses mortal indecision quickly set in robbing me of free will and the ability to choose. Ten minutes later the fruit of my labours was two bags full of nothing in particular and I'm £18.50 lighter only to realise that what I really wanted was an Indian take away. I came home to be presented with a useful free sample sachet of toothpaste in the mail and two dead mice curled up like Inca mummies on the door mat - I ate a pork pie and an overpriced Cumberland sausage and returned to the happy place near the back of my brain, happy MoT and birthday when it comes.