The lock on the driver's door of my little car has finally called time. A few days ago when I had stopped to fill up with diesel, I got the key stuck in the door and had to be rescued by a helpful Welshman who, fortunately for me, appeared, seemingly out of nowhere to offer assistance.
Today, going to town to do Christmas shopping seemed higher on the list than sorting out the lock - that is until I parked, locked the door from the inside and climbed over to the passenger seat to get out, when I discovered that the key was now slightly bent and so wouldn't lock that door either.
Plan B was heading off to the shop where Giles effected a sort of repair, which involved dismantling the inside of the door, which was a little worrying. I had visions of driving to work on Monday exposed to the elements. However, in spite of his efforts, the general consensus was that a new lock is needed, which I shall have to wait for.
So should you hear on the news about someone being catapulted from her car in North Wales early one morning next week, you will know who it is. James Bond, eat your heart out!