I am still seething from a shop rage incident at the weekend but, as I'd decided Bm@il should be grumpy-free this week, I won't burden you with it.
Oh all right then.
While Mr F foraged for Italian holidays on the computer, I dashed out to a petrol station in Uxbridge to buy Sunday papers and fill up with petrol for the week ahead.
I confess I'm a sucker for forecourt offers, and between the fleece blankets and thermal mugs just occasionally something catches my eye.
So it was that I left the shop with an armful of papers, a key-ring torch (batteries included) a candle which changes colour and a silly smile on my face.
Back in my car the grin vanished when I couldn't make my new key ring work, so I trundled back to the empty shop where Mr Miserable (as he turned out to be) announced he couldn't help me because I would hold up the queue.
Turning round, expecting a line of furious customers (I confess I also dislike people who make us wait while they faff about searching for purses or pens) there was only one friendly-looking woman.
Having heard his unhelpful remarks she insisted she didn't yet need serving, as her companion was still filling up the car.
Now extremely disgruntled because I had mustered backup, Mr M reluctantly set about investigating my torch.
At this point I realised if I'd had my glasses on I might have read the instructions for myself, but that had ceased to be the point. This man was really bugging me with his studied unhelpfulness. Do they have courses for this?
In a few seconds my torch was roadworthy but as I began to mutter my thanks, Mr M seized on two customers entering stage left and pointed out to me that - aha! - he now had a proper queue which I was holding up.
He then triumphantly announced to anyone who would listen that here was proof I shouldn't have bothered him as there were now people waiting.
Smiling through gritted teeth, I commended him for helping me in the face of such enormous difficulties and reminded him it's called customer service.
The two men found the ceiling was a fascinating place to shift their gaze but my one supporter said yes and nodded vigorously.
My torch works. Mr F found us an Italian holiday.
There is justice.