Funny thing happened the other day. I was in town, doing Panto stuff, having a blood test, drinking coffee. The usual. And I get home to a message. Which I didn't believe was true. I was being asked to turn on the Christmas lights in my town. I assumed this was a joke. But no, there was the number, there was the message and after a little phoning/emailing back and forth, yes, I was booked to blow the hooter that cued the activation of the magic light strings.
I've just got home from this little task. It was slightly delayed by an accident with Father Christmas' sleigh (worry not children, Santa was fine) but due to the late arrival of the bouncy castle there was no PA system in place (don't ask) and I had to bellow my little speech to the crowd. And then Father Christmas counted down from 10 and I blew my hooter and (thankfully) the lights all came on and Christmas was saved for another year.
But that wasn't the exciting part of the evening. I then went to B&Q in search of a dustbin lid, which I need for the Panto I'm directing. But I didn't need a bin, just the lid. Which was lucky, because they didn't have any bins, only lids. But there was no price for the lid, just for the bins. So I asked really nicely for a good deal and they sold me the lid on its own for a rock bottom price and I went to get some chips.
So, thank you the lovely staff of B&Q (Sudbury) - you've saved Christmas.
[If you have any feelings of confusion about the content of this blog post or have suffered any emotional distress at its contents, please find a towel and wrap it round your head. It won't help, but at least you won't have to read these words any longer. Ed.]