It was an IKEA pick and mix at Ms H's today - she's only just moved into her new flat, and has received a bulk delivery of many brown boxes containing all the parts for some wardrobes and storage units that had formed a small mountain in her living room.

The challenge was trying to determine what was in each box (without opening them up), made more difficult by Ms H also wanting a couple of the wardrobes upstairs - so it would make sense to take the parts for these nearer to their final destination, if only you knew which boxes to take.

After a bit of a chat with Ms H on how best to tackle the challenge, I just decided to begin somewhere...with something manageable.

I opened a box containing a Trofast storage unit - fortunately this seemed self contained, and Ms H showed me the separate baskets (that fit inside the unit) in a stack elsewhere...and got to work. I'd counted four brown boxes of Trofasts, so with the benefit of the learning curve, by number four I'd pretty much got the construction sequence mastered, although by now I had IKEA thumb from turning the Allen key so many times.

The clock had struck midnight (metaphorically...although it was very dark outside) at this point, so I showed Ms H what I'd managed to do, did a tidy up of the various other boxes, and assured her that we would arrange a return visit to try and conquer the rest next week...at least we've made it out of base camp.

Quick and easy dash around the usual three bases for Mr T this afternoon, although Lidl was unexpectedly busy for an early Friday afternoon. This meant more time for chat, and somehow after we'd navigated past causes of shoulder pain, Glasgow Rangers recruitment policy, a man from Fife that Mr T knew from times past , and the intricacies of Welsh rarebit ("Cheese on toast by a fancy name..."), we got onto black and white pudding, both of which the both of us enjoy consuming occasionally. What was worrying was that neither of us knew exactly what was in white pudding...one of those moment where perhaps ignorance is bliss...(turns out it's just black pudding minus the blood).

The regular weekly shop for Mrs S had undergone a bit of a hiatus these past few weeks as she found herself under the care of the NHS for a while, but she's now back home and fighting fit, and it was great to catch up after the unexpected break in proceedings. This time the list was already neatly written out, and after a quick run through to double check the details, it was off out into the chilly morning to the familiar aisles of the world's politest supermarket.

The detailed list proved a winner, leaving me in no doubt on any of the items, all of which were on the shelves, and I was soon back (a little warmer for the walk) with treasure in hand for which Mrs S was her usual very grateful self.

Ms D was surprised when I rang her doorbell this morning...which confused me too. After she'd let me in, I discovered she was a bit flustered as she thought I was coming tomorrow - I assured her it was today (as per usual), and that it was Thursday...at which point the penny dropped - she'd somehow lost a day this week as a result of a few visitors, and changes to the usual weekly routine.

With that resolved, she then dictated today's list, although we did have to refer back to last week's just to check there was nothing missing. Fortunately, after a quick diversion to Boots to pick up some magic hair potion, the shopping proved straightforward and when I returned Ms D seemed a little more her usual self.

Today's downpours meant a bit of diligent navigating up and down Tottenham Court Road in a vain attempt to keep the wheels of Mr T's trusty trolley reasonably dry - I discovered (as with many of the best tricks) that a judicious flick of the wrist was effective at getting the trolley to bunny hop it's way over the worst of the ponds.

Mr T is clearly in seasonal mood as the Brussels Sprouts had been added to his leafy vegetable request - I was circumspect as to whether these had made it yet to the shelves of Lidl, but of course I was proved wrong...it's never too early for festive fayre these days.