I left the house in a great mood this morning. The prospect of half a day off, sunshine in the sky and some good music on my diskman (how retro) had put a spring in my step. I wandered through the estate singing along to The Who after a lovely chat over breakfast with my even lovelier sister. All was good.

An elderly woman in a tabard appeared from one of the blocks. She looked exactly like the type of woman I would have liked for a grandma (all my grandparents passed away before I was 7). She had kind eyes, a gentle face and a blue rinse.

She turned round as I approached, possibly to admire my singing but probably not. I smiled at her expecting a warm smile in return. Instead, she scowled in my direction and emptied the contents of her bucket over my trainers.

I guess that's Bermondsey for you!

Innit!

She stood there, hands on hips, head cocked to one side, her foot tapping in obvious impatience.

“But Jonesy,” she said. “You’re nearly thirty.”

“And?” I replied like an insolent teenager.

“It’s horrible.”

“But I stole it when I was sixteen,” I whined.

“That’s exactly my point. It’s a thirteen year old Camel advertising sign.”

“Stolen from the Spa Grand Prix in 1992!”

“Made of bright yellow rotting cardboard. It’s going.”

She picked it up, marched outside and dumped it on the pile of rubble currently festering in my garden.

“There,” she said. “That wasn’t so bad was it?”

I sulked quietly.

Last weekend Hope came over to help me decorate my living room. Once we’d put the first coat on the walls we had an hour or so to kill. I told her that I’d been meaning to sort through my stuff and get rid of some of it.

“No time like the present!”

She seemed keen.

An hour later she was smiling with satisfaction at the five bags of rubbish and the two bags for the charity shop.

“There. That’s better.”

And you know, despite having protested at every single thing she wanted to throw away, despite having thrown several toys out of my pram, I felt much better for it.

I did sneak my John Lennon poster back in when she wasn’t looking though.

And the blue table.

Let's face it, you don't come here to read about politics and current affairs do you? That would be foolish. But should you ever fancy some strong opinions and heated debate please go and check this out, a blog started up by two very good mates of mine who have kept me sane on many an occasion. I hope you enjoy it... it's hilarious!

The loveliest thing happened on Saturday. I saw my best friend in the world try on the perfect wedding dress. She stood facing herself in the mirror. She knew it was the one; I could see it in her face. She looked beautiful with an expression that spoke of happiness, anxiety and wonder all at once. I wanted to hug her, hold her tight and tell her how amazing she looked. Fifteen years of friendship. Fifteen years of sharing hopes, fears and dreams. She glanced at me in the mirror, eyebrows raised in a silent question. I smiled at her, welling up. She smiled back. When you've known someone half your life, you don't always need words.

I left the pub with my friend to find somewhere for dinner. I'd told him about trying to pay for drinks with my Tesco Club Card and, to his credit, he only laughed a little.

We wandered down the river and eventually came across an upmarket Indian restaurant that looked more than a little tasty. We ventured in and waited to be shown to a table.

As the waiter came over to take our coats a terrible thought dawned on me. I turned to my friend.

"Erm, you know how I put my card behind the bar in the last place?"

"Yes," he replied.

"Well... it's still there."

"Oh dear."

I followed him to our table hoping the restaurant accepted Tesco Club Card.

"Can I pay by card?" I asked the barmaid as she passed me the drinks.

"Only for purchases of over ten pounds."

"How about if I leave my card behind the bar?"

"That's fine."

I reached into my wallet, handed her the card and walked off with the drinks.

"Erm, excuse me!" She called across the throng. "Excuse me!"

I turned round and she waved me towards her.

"I'm afraid we don't accept Tesco Club Cards," she said trying to hide a smile.

"Ah." I handed her my Visa and headed back to my table, a light blush dusting my cheeks.