Life IS like a box of chocolates

LIFE’S made up of a series of little disappointments isn’t it? Not the gut-wrenching whammies like being left at the altar or discovering there was no second layer in the box of Milk Tray.

No, I’m talking small, would-be insignificant disappointments. Would-be, if they happened to someone else but of monumental importance when they’re your very own.

Like Him Indoors accepting the last chocolate finger in the box I offer. He has a lot to learn yet. Like, when I say “Do you want the last chocolate finger dear?” the answer is not “yes please,” but “no thanks, love, you have it.”

The first small disappointment I ever remember was being given a box game of Monopoly for my 10th birthday when what I wanted, what I really, really wanted, was a Sindy doll.

My friend Sheila Philcox had a Sindy doll and if I were especially nice (which generally involved sweets of some kind) I was allowed to brush her hair with a tiny pink brush.

My parents were right in that Monopoly’s staying power — I have it to this day, a little dog-eared and minus the top hat and the get-out-of-jail-free card — far outweighed that of Sindy.

But I got that sinking feeling when I saw the size of my present. Sindys, as far as I was aware, did not come in long, flat, oblong boxes.

Last weekend was one long, if minor, disappointment. It began on Friday evening when I fell asleep on the settee and snored through the episode of “EastEnders” where we found out who fathered Roxy’s baby. Not that it takes much guessing, it isn’t going to be psycho Sean’s is it?

The disappointments were coming in thick and fast on Saturday.

I shan’t linger over the long and unsuccessful hunt for a particular Wii game my grandson has at the top of his wish-list. His and every other 11-year-old’s I suspect.

Nor even the fact that I put on 1lb when I’m supposed to be losing weight.

Or that Sainsbury’s filling station had run out of egg mayo sandwiches when that was what I fancied for my lunch.

But I will elaborate over the £3 I spent from my armchair in a totally fruitless bid to have some influence over the results of “Strictly” and the “X Factor”.

First, I voted for Rachel. She looks like the little fairy that sprang into action every time you lifted the lid of my friend Sheila Philcox’s jewellery box (I never had any jewellery, ergo no box). She and Vincent are so cute.

Secondly, having switched channels and endured the adverts, I picked up the phone and voted for Eoghan Quigg. I am a sucker for cute. Only for him to fall at the first hurdle.