We all make mistakes.

Yes, we all make mistakes, as the short-sighted Dalek said when he tried to get fresh with a dustbin.

Even I’ve been known to do or say the wrong thing at an inopportune moment.

Knickers!

I’ve just done it again.

I often make the mistake of watching a trailer for a new film which looks interesting, then, when I return to the multiplex the following week to hand over my hard-earned, it turns out to be two hours of bombastic, ear-splittingly loud, intelligence-insulting nonsense.

Although I should know better, I’ll probably keep being suckered-in by brilliantly-edited trailers for the rest of my life. Because that’s what brilliantly-edited trailers do.

If I‘m in a strange town at lunchtime and I see two restaurants next to each other, the one I decide to eat in is invariably the worst choice  – even if I’ve stood outside for an hour looking at both their menus, carefully deliberating.

(By the way, deliberating is allowed in most towns between 9.00 a.m. and 4.00 p.m. as long as you do it carefully.)

I realise I’ve made the wrong dining decision as I wait in vain to be served and it becomes apparent that the owners have taken the day off and left the running of the place to the species scientists call ‘Celebritus Obsessivus Non-Stoppus Gossipus‘ –  ‘Saturday Girls’.

Too timid to venture out from behind the counter alone to take an order, these unfortunates huddle together for safety . . . and to discuss which club they intend getting legless in that evening.

I’m thinking of setting up a fund for such poor souls.

Some mistakes only involve myself. Others have repercussions on the rest of humanity – otherwise known as the population of Carmarthen.

I recently made a mistake that affected someone else in a busy car park where I could only find one space big enough for a car as long as mine.

When I returned later, the car park was almost empty and I found a note on my windscreen complaining that I had parked so close to the car behind mine that the lady owner couldn’t open her boot.

Her handwriting was neat and controlled but she was obviously annoyed because she called me a four-letter word that starts and ends with ‘T’ and rhymes with ‘Hit’.

Even though I hadn’t done it deliberately I took her admonishment on the chin because I can be very annoying at times. Make no mistake about that!