Sometimes you just have a bad day and have to accept it. Friday was that day.

It started actually on the stroke of midnight when Dixie decided that now was the right time to cut a new tooth. Much wall shaking screaming and a gallon of Calpol later and she was a little happier. But as I trudged back to bed, I snuggled down under the still warm duvet only for Pixie to regret eating the cheese before bed and start crying about having bad pictures in her head.

I honestly do not feed them LSD with their milk and biscuit, but her description of “bad pictures in her head” did rather take me back a few years to listening to rubbish music in a far away field in the middle of some Surrey or Sussex farm somewhere. Or maybe it was a disused warehouse on the Old Kent Road. I really can’t remember and that’s probably for the best.

But suffice to say she no longer trusted her own wardrobe not to come alive so into the marital bed she came with the deeply snoring GLW and me. At this point the traditionalists among you may well be asking why on earth the MAN of the house is doing these things? To cut an annoyingly long story short – Shift Work.

Now Pixie, like all 4 year olds have what can only be described in bed as a “spin cycle”. Honestly, it wriggles and kicks and moves like a demented dervish. Every time I dozed off, BOOT, I copped for one in the back. This carried on for much of the night.

(At this point I would like to nod to Ladee-Bird who has had a very similar experience blogged lately)

So bleary eyed at 6.30 I get up with Dixie leaving Pixie spread eagled in the bed. How can a small 4 year old take up so much room?

The mobile rings.

Very odd for my phone to ring THAT early. I recognise the number as my boss’s so I answer.

“Oh great, Dan you are awake”
“Err, yes, where's the fire?”
“Need a massive favour, can you get to Birmingham for 10?”

Mind awash with logistics, I say yes, but it will be tight and I will have to upset the Good Lady Wife.

“Good man”

I gulp. What have I agreed to? I was given no details of agenda, just casually told to check the blackberry and it will all be clear. Oh, that’s all right then.

So a hasty shower, tea made for the GLW, apologies for dumping her in it and I left. Pixie, by the way had now nudged the GLW so far across that her leg was on the ground.

I leave and almost immediatley hit traffic.

And lots of it.

M25 was a shambles. I am an everyday user of this road and know the hotspots every well. You know you are in trouble when you queue where you don't usually.

But the upside of the delay was that I was able to read the agenda. I had a look of horror – I had been set up. The meeting was to dump a long and loyal business partner. Great, thanks.

By 10 I was still only approaching the NEC when I should have been in Broad Street...

I finally arrive at 10.30 but can’t park at the building. So I park in the NCP and have to walk and it’s pissing down.

I turn up in reception, soaking wet, sign in, pop the pen in my pocket and meet the smiling man who is so happy to see me and I am about to blow a hole in his bottom line.

He does not take it well. I don’t blog work, but I have to share part of his tirade against me as it does rather hit a nerve that regular readers of my blog will understand.

“You come in here, drink my tea, steal my stationery chat up my staff and then you tell me I am no longer ‘part if your plans for the future’”

I had to admit, he had me spot on.

I did not finish my tea and left in a bit of a hurry. I get back to the car only to get a ticket on the windscreen. The pay and display ticket had obviously fallen on the floor of the car when I closed the door. Bastards. I argue the case only for a man with what can only be described as a best endeavours effort at the English language pointed me to a sign to write an address to complain to.

The phone rings. Boss again.

“Can you get to Oxford on your way home”

No “how did it go”, no “are you OK?”…just get to Oxford on your way back.

So we meet in one of our buildings and he casually tells me that all my accounts have “grown too large for our part of the company” and they are to be moved on.

Great. So all the work I have done building these up is swept away for someone to pick up and I have to start over. To be honest, this is the procedure, it’s just when it happens, it’s a pisser. Unless it’s a dog of an account then it is a boon.

So on seeing my short-term bonus take a walk, I decide not to head home and log on and clear mails.
I get a message from the GLW – “don’t forget the meal tonight”.

I rarely go out at the moment so a meal out is a big thing for both of us. It is a friend’s birthday and babysitters are sorted and the GLW has been excited about getting dressed up for ages.

I look at the watch and decide to leave with plenty if time in hand.

But yet again the traffic gets the better of me and this time the M40 has a lorry on it’s side and the traffic wombles decide to shut the whole road forever.

Finally I get going and actually, shockingly am moving at a real pace in the outside of the M25. I move from the middle lane to the outside crossing over what I thought was a cat’s eye. Only this cat’s eye did not pop down. BANG.

That did not sound too good.

I carry on for about another 100 yards and “BANG” my tyre bursts and I slide and wobble at 75MPH on the outside lane of the M25.

I manage to cruise into the hard shoulder and I come to a rather sad stop on the chevrons of the entry slip of junction 30/31…ladies that’s the Lakeside exit!

So with roaring traffic on both sides of me I call the fleet company and with the only bit of good luck I have all day the signal is strong and battery in tact.

He arrives in less than an hour and fits my embarrassingly small and ugly spare wheel and on I go with a maximum of 50MPH. (A quick note here: I am capable but I am not allowed to change the wheel.) I plod home with the most enormous "Norbert Dentressangle" and "Eddie Stobarts" flashing their lights and overtaking me. The shame of it.

I arrive home late and with the GLW looking a million dollars but foot tapping away, I then dive in the shower and get changed as quickly as only men can.

We take her car as I was too embarrassed to drive on my mongrel wheel and arrive only 20 minutes late. Fashionably late, I would say.

One good thing was that I was able to impart my day story, rather than talk kids all the time as someone with my current lack of social interaction has little of interest happen.

Thankfully as the clock struck midnight just as we returned home and Pixie and Dixe were fast asleep. Good old Grandma.

Not a peep until 6.30 Saturday Morning.

Bliss.

Dan