idiocy

I'm determined to be frank here. No pussyfooting around the things that make me squirm with embarrassment. There's no point in trying to hide my stupidity because it doesn't make me feel better to lie about it. Oh yes, we were pretty silly on Saturday...

So we turned up at Willingham Auctions nicely on time, had a good look around, found the clock we wanted and decided that yes, we'd see if we could get it for a decent price. The auction was relatively quiet compared to other days so we were optimistic about our chances. There were side-tables flying out at £20 each, lovely 1930s chests of drawers going for £100... we could smell, nay taste, the bargains. At 12pm, they normally take a fifteen-minute break for lunch and so we did too, escaping the auction room a few minutes early to beat the rush for the cafe. Having filled up nicely, there were still a few minutes to go before 12.15, so I wandered around the barns whilst the husband took a pee (I did say no pussyfooting around, didn't I?). Then I met the husband outside the auction room and we walked towards it. Our lot number was 543, we thought we had AGES before it came up because we'd left the sale on lot 300 and something. I bet you've guessed already what we did. Oh Lordy, oh my good God, when we saw the next lot that was being sold, we gasped. I nearly passed out. I think I squealed like a skewered pig. The lot number was 546. We had missed our clock being sold. Oop.

We were beside ourselves. I had been dandling about the place looking at broken Royal Worcester bowls whilst my lovely clock was being sold to SOMEONE ELSE!!! What a numpty, what an f-ing moron! What was I thinking, not checking to see whether the auctioneer had started again, or even (goddamn the man) if he had deemed to take a break for lunch. Does the man not EAT??? F F F!!! Anyway, the price it sold at hasn't yet appeared on their website, so the torture continues - did it sell for £30 (OMFG), or £150 (I wouldn't have paid that anyway)? I can't bear it. I was gutted.

So we cheered ourselves up with Harry Potter and Whatever Thing It Is This Time. It was good, not brilliant but entertaining, if a little adolescent. I'm not sure how much it did cheer me up, though.

Woe is me. We have learnt a hard lesson.

*edit 1.15pm* Double woe, it went for £80. Our maximum was £100.