Ronaldo's boots and the man in the driveway

Valentines day, 7.30pm outside Heathrow Terminal 5, the erstwhile mecca of lost luggage.

I dropped off Mandy & Leora for their mothers and daughters bonding Tour in Israel. Roads were clear, so I popped into ASDA on the way home to buy my son one of their famous £25 suits (if you rub the legs together you can power a small town) and a few BOGOFS.

Got home, started unpacking the shopping. Noticed there was a man lying at the left top of the driveway (2 entrances, and I drove in through the right one, your honour). Went to have a closer looked. So did 2 young ladies in a fiesta. I was non-plussed. One of them suggested I call 999. "Is he breathing? (yes) conscious? (on and off) Don't move him etc. ." A few people slowed down to look and some likely lads took an interest (No I hadn't decked him, yes I had called 999).

Paramedic came, followed by the Police, so I unloaded ASDA's finest and watched match of the day. And forgot to tell anyone for a couple of weeks.

At the end of the couple of weeks (March 1st) a religious Jewish wedding at Thistle Heathrow hotel (waved hi to Terminal 5 - they still cannot locate my emotional baggage). It was one of those drives were the first 28 miles is easy, but the last 200 yeards is tricky. I turned right and right off the Bath road - oh dear, both lanes' arrows pointing towards me. I pulled straight onto the curb realising my folly (no obvious no-entry sign) as cars - and Mr Plod - approached. Mr Plod (and a back-up van) did not arrest me for criminal stupidity, but gave me directions. My faith in Blighty is fully restored.

An enjoyable wedding. The bride's mother wore lime green and held her daughters  dress as she circled the emotional groom 7 times. Lots of Rabbis to do the honours, and plenty of food at the reception. It is a truth universally acknowleged that Jewish Weddings and Barmitzahs always coincide with major sporting events (not surprising as they tend to be on Sundays). Last summer, I snuck out to watch some of the 5th set of Nadal v Federer in a West End hotel. This time it was Tottenham v Man United, Carling Cup Final. Nearing the end of 90 minutes, 0-0, Ronaldo lashes the ball onto the post with his lime green boots (conscience jogger - you are supposed to be at a wedding reception, show your face for a bit).  Cheers Ronaldo.

I did dance a bit. Separate men and women, of course. My blue shirt bobbing about among the signiture white shirted, bearded men. The bride's brother danced with his hat on fire (Chassidic Baked Alaska) and there was some jumping over supine bodies. Time to go home.