I whine about Co-op crapness a lot, but I should make it clear that it’s not crap absolutely all the time. Even a stopped clock is right twice a day, and even monkeys eventually type out the complete works of Shakespeare. Or something.

So, anyway, I went to my local Co-op at about 8pm last night with two things on my list: bread and milk. Not only did they have bread, the shelves were about three-quarters full and some of the bread was being sold at a discount. They didn’t have the milk I wanted (organic skimmed milk) but they did still have some milk in stock and I bought the last container of non-organic skimmed.

So I left the shop having bought everything on my list. That’s a first, I think. Not only that, but they even had some Co-op own brand tinned tomatoes in stock. I’ve been going to that shop for nearly two years and the shelf where the own-brand tomatoes should be has been empty every time I’ve looked at it. Usually the only options are a) Il Expensivo Rustic Tuscan Tomatoes at over a pound a tin or b) no tomatoes at all. I sort of wish I’d bought a tin of the own-brand as a souvenir.

All this abundance and plenty was probably because the store manager guy, or whoever he is, was there. I’m not sure exactly what his job title is, but I’ve noticed that stock control gets better whenever he’s around, and staff start being polite to customers instead of yelling “COWP?” at people in the queue. Of course correlation isn’t causation, but I know he must have something to do with it because he’s the only member of staff I’ve ever seen actually stacking shelves.

A couple of weeks ago I handed out leaflets advertising a fair. The fair was organised by the Green Party locally. I found out afterwards that our leaflets were in breach of the Political Parties, Elections and Referendums Act because they didn’t contain the necessary imprint giving the name of the printer and promoter. As any fule kno, we are now within the regulated period for the European election.

Today I got my bike from where I’d left it in the town centre and found that there was a problem with the front wheel. I took it to the repair shop and they told me that the front wheel had almost certainly been damaged by somebody kicking it.

Does anybody have a more thrilling tale of breaking the law and becoming a victim of crime in the same fortnight?

“I’ve actually got all the copy I need for that, but I think I’ll give her a ring anyway. It won’t hurt to make her feel useful and involved. I think making positive contact with people from the group might help to dispel some of the touchiness.”

I’m having one of those “boom boom boom” days where you work really fast and behave really efficiently and keep hammering out efficient-sounding messages without stopping to stare out of the window. I’ve been taking advantage of the lack of RSI pains to type at my normal breakneck speed. As a result, I was one key-stroke away from sending this message to the woman it was about.

I think I’ve learnt my lesson. I’m back to the one-cuppa-per-email rule.

We’ve got a guest coming to stay. The January 3rd message from barnacle saying “can my friend kip in our attic on these dates in April?” is still in my inbox because I still haven’t got round to having my diary and computer in the same room, but I think this is one of those times where ignoring an email has the same effect as taking notice of it.

In a belated attempt to be both organised and welcoming, I put on a fluffy teal jumper and Hoovered up the mouse poison in the attic. Well, most of it. The Hoover doesn’t have an upholstery attachment, so I had to improvise in the hard-to-reach bits by sort of flicking it with my hand. He’s an actor, he’ll understand.