When Lisa turns to you at 8am and says "Well this'll give you something to write about on your blog", you just know the day's started well. The fact that we were stuck at the traffic lights on a box junction in the middle of Brighton in the rush hour with my car refusing to move, just confirmed that. The additional fact that I hadn't had a shower, a shave or any breakfast, was merely the icing on the cake.

But hey, as I switched on the hazard lights, dialled the AA on my mobile, and waved Lisa goodbye as she abandoned my car to walk the rest of the way to work, there was still a smile on my face and a song in my heart. Particularly when Lisa texted me twenty minutes later, advising me to start singing in order to pass the time and keep my spirits up. It was like living through the Blitz. I could've murdered a powdered egg sandwich.

Cursing my decision to leave the Honey Nut Cheerios at home, I was naturally delighted when the AA texted me at 8:20am to tell me that the man was on his way and would be there by 8:35am. Not as delighted as the queue of irate drivers behind me, but even so, I was pleased. True to his word, the yellow-vanned knight of the road turned up at... um... 8:45am. But hey, what's ten minutes between friends.

I was greeted with a jovial "I bet you've heard a few honks of the horn stuck there, eh?!". I politely confirmed that I had, thank you very much. And probably prompted a few scarily accurate voodoo dolls to be fashioned as well. So Mr AA kindly towed me off around the corner, away from the angry mob with burning torches and pitchforks, to a quiet backstreet where no one knew of my past life as a instigator of traffic chaos.

In an attempt to recreate a popular children's television tableau, I got out of the car and asked Mr AA "Can you fix it?". Fortunately he was no stranger to Bob the Builder, and replied with a cheery "Yes, we can!". Well ok, it was more of a "I'll see what I can do", but I'm sure he'd seen the show.

It turns out that I have a dodgy clutch, which required expert attention (described by Mr AA as "a bit of a botch job", which I'm sure is some kind of technical term), and after twenty minutes of adjustment ("botching") I was on my way, with my saviour's comedy guarantee that his work would last "a mile or a minute, whichever comes first". Sadly Lorraine's house was five miles or twenty minutes away, but in a feat of near-miracle proportions I made it back in one piece.

As a mature 31 year old, naturally the next call I made was to my parents, and having impressed upon them the importance of reliable transport to the work of a cat-sitter, my Dad agreed to drive down and swap cars with me. He'll be here in half an hour, so with a bit of luck Lisa won't have to get the bus home. Though she probably regrets not learning to ride a bike now.

And for the record, tomorrow I'm having breakfast before I leave the house.

But to finish on some good news, I'd just like to announce that I've successfully applied Oscar's suntan cream to his ears this morning.

(And no, I'm not making that up.)