IT’S been an interesting week of experiences, good and bad... but some of them less obviously one or the other.

Allow me to explain. First of all, there’s an obvious one which was not only good, but simply joyous. While dropping Mrs G off at the station early one morning, a tiny wren landed on the wing mirror of our car, sat motionless for a few moments, then flitted away. Wonderful.

By the same logic, seeing someone damage their car five minutes later at the petrol station should be categorised as bad. However, this was a souped-up VW, with tinted windows, ridiculous spoiler, massive shiny chrome exhaust tailpipe and a spiky-haired surly lad behind the wheel, who pulled into a parking space as I was leaving the shop. Unfortunately for the young driver (and presumably his ego), he apparently forgot the ground-skimmingly low front spoiler as he pulled up to the kerb. A kerb that was several inches higher. The loud bang/crunch noise was a delight. I believe the Germans have a word for this – schadenfreude; “Pleasure derived by someone from another person’s misfortune”.

A rapid dose of good vs bad involved a visit to the doctor for an ongoing shoulder problem. An on-the spot, gritted-teeth-inducing, injection later, the doc noted I hadn’t had a blood pressure test in years either. Turns out my shoulder may be a disaster area, but the blood inside it (and the rest of me) is in fine fettle. On balance – hurrah!

As a committed F1 enthusiast and Brit, you could reasonably expect me to be chuffed that Lewis Hamilton bagged his fourth World Championship title on Sunday. Nope. Not a fan – I wanted Vettel, or in fact anyone else, to win. But the race winner was a 19-year-old kid, who wiped the floor with his experienced counterparts in a less-than-stellar car and finished miles ahead of them all. When told to back off a little to preserve the car, he did an identical lap then laughed while apologising to his exasperated engineer over the radio. Afterwards, he declared it was a bit boring out in front on his own all race. Thank you, Max Verstappen.

A definite low of the last seven days was, of course, the clocks going back an hour. I used to luxuriate in the bonus hour of snoozie time, but now it just means being awake for an extra hour and feeling even more tired the next day. Like jet lag without the pleasure of having been anywhere. Plus, it appeared on Monday night’s journey home that all the other motorists had forgotten how to drive in the dark. Everyone was going so slowly I started wondering if the speed limit had been dramatically reduced and I was the only one who hadn’t noticed.

The universe finds interesting ways of balancing things out. Long may it continue to surprise me. I hope your weekend is full of positives – for you, at least. Stuff what anyone else thinks!