This morning found me queueing up outside the local Wesleyan Hall, for this is where the nearest Citizen's Advice Bureau to Chéz Sonique is located, and I'm in need of some impartial advice from a grown-up.
On the the phone, the CAB-lady told me to be there around 9am. What she failed to add was that the doors don't open until 10am, so I had an hour in which to admire the imposingly dark satanic facade of this once magnificent religious establishment. Makes Miss Havisham's gaff in Great Expectations look like Studio 54. The clock is permanently stopped like hers, too. If you look closely, you'll also see that the local brethren have named the basement drinking-den Wesley's, in honour of the building's proud past.
Still, as the advice centre operates on a first-come-first-served basis, I ended up as #1 in the queue. I duly got myself the relevant advice - no details yet people, you'll be reading about it in the society pages soon enough - and am back home now. Not for long though because in one hour exactly, I have yet another appointment with a purveyor of the worst form of institutionalised cruelty, sometimes referred to as the Physiotherapist. Yes, my day continues to get better.