This is my week to have a good whinge. Well, come on, be fair, I've been all sweetness and light recently.

The nearest thing that firms seem able to deliver in terms of commitment is on the lines of: "Between eight and twelve or two and four."

Hardly a timetable to build your diary on, is it?

You toss a metaphorical coin and start to plan your day around it.

Bear in mind that they are doing deliveries, mending household equipment, whatever, every day and one might reasonably expect that they would have some idea of how long certain jobs take.

The run of repairs must be similar from week to week, not taking into account the stops for light refreshment of course and then there is always that modern marvel - the mobile phone.

It gets used often enough to tell Fred where Jim is hiding out, but seldom to tell Mrs X or Mr Y when the expected goods and services are likely to arrive.

When they do arrive, don't bank on everything arriving together or necessarily working when repaired.

I was left with a TV set with no sound after having a bit replaced recently and had to go through the whole 'Now you see us, now you don't' all over again the next day to the total disruption of my diary.

I've got a bit canny these days and try and get the eight o'clock spot if I can and I always have the kettle boiling.

A friend and I have go to the supermarket at eight o'clock on a Saturday morning because the shop is usually quiet (everyone else is waiting at home for a delivery I expect!) and because I have to be at home during the week for Fred and Jim.

You might think the shelves would be well stocked at the very least with the staples and if you have to wait a few minutes for the frills you can at least get the bulk of your shopping done fairly fast.

But it doesn't necessarily work like that.

I wanted some of the excellent fresh fruit salad available in pick-your-own dishes.

Not a dish to be seen and a request to produce some containers brought the slowest response I've met since I tried to persuade my plumber that a dripping tap was wasting valuable resources.

When the containers finally arrived they were the smallest size - easier to carry in bulk no doubt.

That is not the only example of a couldn't-care-less attitude but, in fairness, I have come across young men and women in the same store who are very helpful and who go out of their way to find out if certain things are available.

I suppose I could always shop on the internet and then wait in for another couple of likely lads to deliver the wrong things on whatever day they choose.

Live near Withdean and the Albion parking arrangements and you will have a fair idea of what Hell is like.

Carden Avenue is bad enough but they are now parking in the small side roads, making it almost impossible to get to your own house.

No emergency vehicle, including a fire engine, would have a hope of getting past the invading cars.

Councillor Geoffrey Theobald has complained on behalf of the residents and has been fobbed off by Martin Perry, who insists his fans are angels.

The notices on roads are there only for decoration, since they are ignored and no stewards police them.

I can only wish the Falmer residents luck and thank heaven the soccer season isn't the whole year round.