A charmed day?

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‘TWAS a bright and sunny day; the larks were twittering, the dog was asleep, and I had a long list of random tasks to fulfil before lunch.

Henry (the car) and I set off with a fool-proof shopping list and high spirits, and within minutes had completed our first task – get rid of the rubbish.

We sailed through Tasks 2 and 3.

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4 was achieved with luck and cunning, while 5 (Mercadona) was a doddle.

Blithely we approached Task 6 – an easy one: Henry needed his tummy filled, and I needed to remove his aerial.

I went to his rear, stood on my toes, and discovered that I could touch his aerial, but was about an inch too short to grasp it. I hopped hopefully a couple of times, but I was still an inch too short.

I saw that struggle was futile, but once again Luck intervened. A car drew up behind me, and a lady got out to stretch her legs. She looked like someone blessed with a good helping of common sense.

‘Is your husband tall?’ I enquired in hopeful tones.

I was right. She had common sense in spades. ‘He’s 6 foot 2.’ She replied, unfazed.

‘Could you ask him please to take my aerial off?’

6 foot 2 arose out of his car, and with sublime ease unscrewed Henry’s aerial and handed it to me.

Why did I need his aerial removed?

Could my charmed luck continue through to Task 7?

Would it continue to be a charmed day?

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