Cocktail night last night and I've got the mother of all hangovers. Wasn't planning on coming in but someone rang up on a car and sounded keen as mustard, prepared to drive 80 miles to get here so I made the effort to come in. They arrive on time, but don't like the colour. I know, please don't say anything. Then the phone goes and it's 247 asking if a 7 seater is still for sale, happy days. Well it was until i found out he owes £3000 on his £700 swapper so that's that. My head is pounding, I've missed the start of the grand prix and I'm now waiting for my 2.15 to turn up on a van. The way today is going I'm expecting him to say he wasn't aware there was VAT on it, or it's the wrong shade of white etc etc. If it's a hat trick, then the cat better hide.