The Liz Truss fuss, cost-of-living calamity and the feeling our nation’s going to pot has made me really grumpy. So Strictly is brightening up my life more than ever.
And, as always, rumours of the couples who are romantically involved swirl. Are Nikita and Molly together away from the studio? Have last year’s winners Giovanni and Rose fallen for each other just like Nadiya and Kai?
Many people think true love can be found on the dance floor. Not me.
Although I met my late husband Colin at a dance, I didn’t fall for his moves. He was stiff as a poker, only bent one knee and had no rhythm.
I used to think, ‘Why aren’t you moving your feet?’ But I didn’t tell him that in our early days… I saved it until we were married.
Then I also confessed that when he’d had a few pints and sang Lady in Red that his voice was awful.
Real love, for me, did not strike on the dance floor. I realised I’d been hit by Cupid’s arrow while at a bus station, watching Colin’s bus arrive with nerves which made me feel giddy.
Now, when it can feel like everything’s going wrong, just thinking about the good times with Colin brings a smile to my face and the feeling of a warm Ready Brek glow around me.
Is there any better feeling than being in love when you’re young?
I learned in lockdown there’s always something to cheer you up if you look hard enough for it. And if you don’t feel happier looking to the future, treat yourself to a nostalgic stroll through your past.
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I was grateful to the NHS to have my flu vaccination and fourth Covid jab this week – and even more so when my friend Sheila got a bad case of coronavirus which totally floored her.
She was a nurse and felt sure that had she not had her shots, she’d have been in hospital on a ventilator.
When I FaceTimed Sheil, seeing her so sick was scary.
Just as I did while watching Rob Burrow’s documentary, I found myself repeating something my mum always said: “If there is a God, you need to show yourself.”
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I asked my daughter-in-law Kim to buy me three big bags of fun-sized Maltesers to make sure I’m ready for any children calling at Hallowe’en. Then I got hungry. I thought the small, fiddly bags would keep me out of them.
I assumed that surely they’d be more secure than the big box because when I get tired of poking my finger through the hole in the lid, I just rip it off and before you can say “gluttony”, the box is empty.
But lots of little bags were no deterrent. After practising on 10 or so, they tore open pretty easily.
Jonathan was not impressed or surprised. He said: “The Maltesers were on a two-for-one special offer but we picked up three instead of four because we knew you’d eat them all. Were we right?” I denied it. I must’ve sat on a bag because there were some exploded Maltesers squashed into my sofa so I didn’t eat them ALL.
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Watching the documentary on rugby league player Rob Burrow living with MND left me in bits. Like anyone who has lost someone, the emotions hit home hard.
Rob’s wife Lindsey said: “There will never be any one else. No one can take his place.” And I thought, “I know, love. I know…”
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Big sacrifices are being made by all families at the moment as bills and food prices soar. I worry about the stress of Christmas on parents.
I wish we could ask for a year off Christmas, just this once.
Although I adore everything about festive traditions, I do not love how many children aren’t appreciative of what they’re given.
We were happy with one or two gifts when we were growing up. But the snakes and ladders, toy sweet shops and flashlights of my day have been replaced by fancy iPads, smartarse phones and expensive designer trainers.
If Christmas is a time of love and understanding, let’s give the people we care about the gift of our time instead, and the understanding that we don’t want anyone suffering stress or debt.
Then we’d enjoy a true Christmas holiday for us all.
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Robbie celebrated his birthday this week and as always, his wife Sarah was kind and thoughtful.
She surprised him by bringing sushi, sandwiches and a Colin the Caterpillar cake down to Macclesfield football club where the team was training.
Robbie, with his romantic way with words, took one look at her and said: “What are you doing here?”
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Hearing talk about impending blackouts made me wonder what my mum and dad, who lived through the Second World War, would think about the state of their country.
It also made me realise I need to be prepared, so I asked Jonathan if he’d buy me a torch.
He said I didn’t need one as I have candles. But how am I bloody well supposed to find my candles and matches without a torch?
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The eco-warriors blocking main roads might feel knowledgeable about carbon emissions and greenhouse gases.
But they have seriously underestimated the general public’s emotions.
If I was taking someone I loved to hospital and protesters were blocking my route, I’d physically drag them out of the way.
The strength of people’s love and their determination to help each other when they need it will always be stronger than any glue those eco eejits use to attach themselves to roads and buildings…
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My sons have reminded me to make sure my doors are locked, even in daytime.
Some of us live in sleepy villages where we feel sure we can safely leave our doors open so friends can easily pop in and out.
But burglars can sometimes spot an old person’s home.
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There’s a red light on my Alexa and when I ask her to read me the news, she stays quiet. Oh well… we all have our off days, don’t we. She’s only human!
So as the cost-of-living crisis bites and Christmas approaches, let’s not give them an open invitation.
■ If you’d like to contact Val, please email features@mirror.co.uk or write to: Val Savage, PO Box 7290, E14 5DD. The Mirror make a donation to the Alzheimer’s Society in lieu of payment.
