At 8:45pm last night, I decided to make our seventh call to the Indian branch of Asda customer services. Despite having had three hours to dial the number, the lady from the Brighton Marina branch didn't appear to have phoned them at all. Unless they've all gone down with amnesia. So I'm beginning to think she was some kind of charlatan, or possibly a passing customer who picked up the phone and was winding us up. I have visions of all the staff down at our local Asda hiding behind the deli counter every time the phone rings, and pretending there's nobody in.

Fortunately, the man I spoke to in India was very nice, and told me that he won't rest until we get some answers. Although he was about to go home for the day, so he said we'd have to wait until today. In the meantime he gave us £10 (which is not quite as "significant" as I'd imagined) and agreed to rebook our order. Unfortunately they couldn't do Saturday morning as requested, so it's rescheduled for Sunday evening. Which will make it just over three days late.

The chap told me that he starts work today at 1:30pm and that he would personally find out what's been happening and call us back. Unfortunately we're going to be out this afternoon. But let's face it, they've promised to call us about a dozen times, and so far, the phone call score is 8-1 in our favour. So I don't think we'll miss much.

As it happens, we're heading over to my parents' house for the weekend. If he can last another day, my Dad will reach the significant milestone of three-quarters-of-a-century tomorrow, so we're giving him the gift of our presence. Our actual gift is much cheaper.

In the meantime, here's a short public information film which explains why our day out in Milton Keynes earlier this month didn't start until 2pm, and why we're unlikely to be sharing lunch today with my parents...


We'll still arrive before our shopping though.