Monday Monday...

After a terrific weekend, with free cinema tickets to see 127 hours (not recommended for the squeamish, that's an understatement) and the best Sunday on record - how often do you get taken out for a spin in a private plane?! Monday morning brought me crashing to earth....

It's pouring down. My 6.30am alarm takes me completely by surprise, I'm deep in dream land where all of my teeth have fallen out (any dream experts feel free to comment on this please!). I manage to wangle a lift rather than commute on the dreaded X43 bus to Manchester. All's bleak but the thought of picking up a McD's breakfast keeps me chirpy in the car.

Until the engine cuts out. And we find ourselves on the hard shoulder. Great.

Laughing at first, but completely baffled, we manage to get Fiona the Ford Flight going again and chug along the M65 at 50mph.

Lorries overtake us and tip buckets of water over the windscreen. Ah, thanks!

But then she cuts out again. So we abandon the damn thing and ring trusty Green flag after many attempts to reach the next junction, fearing that all the chugging would leave us with whip lash.

We stand on the grass verge, you know, being one of those poor people who you often see on a grey wet morning waiting for the recovery van to come to the rescue as you're driving to work, and you laugh at them and think, sod that first thing in the morning! That was us.

Luckily my car victim friend had two umbrella's. Brucie bonus!

The nice man with the truck arrived shortly afterwards, and towed us back to where we came from and we dumped 'Fi' at a garage telling the mechanic to do his worst, and hiked home to pop the kettle on 4 hours after we first left.

Not the best start to the week, but at least it can't get any worse!

And after all, it is January, and we aren't supposed to be feeling happy!