Putting my FOOT IN IT

In which I try to help... and it doesn't go well

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If you were kind enough to visit last week, you'll remember that you left me on the horns of a dilemma. Which I imagine is even more uncomfortable than the elderly sofa in our sitting room. Before we tackle the actual dilemma, let me first tell you about the sofa, which is a cause célèbre at Dear Towers.

When we moved here, just after Mr Gladstone was forming his first ministry, we thought we'd treat ourselves to a new sofa.

We ordered something in a rather elegant dark blue. 'That'll be a couple of months, I'm afraid,' said the man at the shop. 'We're snowed under.'

We were in no hurry, though, and after four months the sofa finally appeared.

We both looked at it with a puzzled expression. It was certainly blue, but it looked like the one we'd ordered in much the same way that I look like Ginger Rogers.

'I'm not waiting another four months for a sofa,' said Mr Dear. So that was that.

Thank you for reading that. It's been annoying me for three decades, and I feel a lot better now.