I can’t think why but the button flew off my skirt yesterday morning. It landed in the dog’s hairy ear and for a moment he looked like a Steiff collectable before the button tumbled to the carpet and he promptly gobbled it up like a dust-buster.

I decided to head for Asda in the hope they had some elasticated waistbands in their sale.

The store was packed to the gunnels with hordes of people ferreting out bargains.

After scooping up some roomier togs I went in search of knock-down festive fare and came upon one couple in the cheese aisle.

“This one is ever so reduced, Keith,” said the wife, waving aloft a basket of quality cheeses.

“I only likes Stilton at Christmas,” replied her spouse.

“You’re odd, you are, how can you only like something at Christmas?”

“Well, you only likes mince pies at Christmas,” he replied in a sniffy tone.

“That’s because they only sells them at Christmas, you dim-watt.”

Trying hard not to laugh, I seized a bargain basket and beetled away to the tills.

I’m very glad the snow has melted, although it has left a fine old mess on all the cars.

Earlier in the week, I was crawling along in a bit of a jam down East Street, past pawnbroker’s row wondering how on earth the person in the car in front of me could see out as all the windows appeared to be completely black.

The windscreen must also have been similarly smeared as the teenager who tried to cross in front of the bonnet nearly met with a sticky end.

I watched as the furious young man slapped the car and stuck quite a collection of fingers up into the air at the driver’s window as it slid slowly down and a small grey head popped out to apologise.

The youngster’s anger swiftly dissipated and I heard him shout directions at her for the car wash on Sheene Road .  

It’s good to see someone being helpful, particularly to a driver who nearly acquired him as a bonnet ornament a few moments earlier.