Today was a terrible, terrible day.
My car, my trusty, crappy 11 year old Skoda (yes I know) was due its MOT. For those of you who are not Brits, an MOT is a once a year mechanical examination of all cars to ensure they are basically safe to be on the road. The test costs £45, is compulsory and you cannot buy motor insurance (also compulsory) or road tax (compulsory again) without a test pass certificate.
I suspected that there may be a couple of minor problems with the car, the screen washer didn’t squirt very well and one of the tail lights was out. no problem, I can fix that. What I wasn’t prepared for was an estimate for £400 of repairs to the buggered steering, suspension and breaking systems.
Now given that the car cost me £150 in the first place there’s no way I can afford to spend £400 on fixing it so it’s bye bye little Skoda and I shall have to cycle to work for a while until I can afford another car. Again.

I got home after that little adventure to find Becky, my partner very worried about one of our cats, Woolly.
Woolly had been sneezing and wheezing for a few days and we just though she had a bit of a cold. All the cats had had colds before and had always got over them without help but Woolly’s symptoms were worsening and now she sounded like an aqualung.
So we took her to the vet thinking she needed some antibiotics and maybe some steroids for a lung infection but the vet diagnosed heart failure and fluid in her lungs.
Poor Woolly, our beautiful, sleek, black 14 year old cat was suffering and had to be put to sleep.
I cried.
Horrible, horrible day.