YOU should never help a person in need. Especially when it comes to moving house.

If they ask, you just have to have a good excuse at the ready. Like I have to read the complete works of Shakespeare by tomorrow morning, I have to look after a mate's pet squirrel for the weekend or the washing machine's packed up and I don't have any clothes to wear.

But I didn't. So here I was travelling up the motorway at the crack of dawn- well, it felt like it to me after a few hours' kip - with a car loaded with who knows what.

The great thing about motorway travelling is that no matter how long you think the journey will take, you should always add some time on.

For instance if it's scheduled for three hours, make it four.

It was with this in mind we set off and found that as if magnetic or the dodgems, vehicles kept bumping into one another.

Sometimes it was on our stretch of the carriageway, but on other occasions it was on the opposite side. It didn't seem to matter which was which as rubber-neckers inevitably slowed your progress.

And if the crashes didn't slow you down, thankfully they weren't serious, then it's the variable speed limit.

If you're going along smoothly at 70mph, the last thing you want is to come to a grinding halt and travel at 30mph. But that's the variable speed limit for you.

As for lane etiquette, forget it. It 's like the wild west out there. Some driver can easily undertake or overtake you and then bizarrely sweep across four lanes in one go.

But we got there and after the removal men had delivered the furniture, (why is the kettle the last thing to come out of the van?) we spent the next two hours making a bed, obviously after several cups of tea to facilitate thinking time.

When I say making a bed, I mean actually constructing it from scratch. You have to be best buddies with the person you're making it with, because by the end you won't be talking to them.

We spent half an hour trying to find some screws that were in a bag that was lying underneath a plank.

We were given an Allen key, but a screwdriver was needed for some of the work.

There were still bits of wood, plastic and bedknobs left over, but it looked great.

I slept in the spare room, on an air bed, which was surprisingly comfy.

But when I work up in the morning, I noticed a visitor had got into the sheets with me.

As I stood up I felt something twitching on my leg hairs. It could have been a spasm, but it was tickling me.

It was only when I glanced down that I realised I had spent the night with a big hairy spider on my legs.

I soon knocked him off and he went scuttling off into a corner.

After that it was finding where everything goes. If in doubt, box it up and put it into a cupboard was my motto.

Weirdly, we had the world's largest ironing board, which didn't fit in anywhere.

And then there's the fun and games in trying to get the boiler to work.

No matter which button we pressed, nothing seemed to happen.

I then worked out that by depressing one of the far buttons the power would come on and eventually, we had hot water. Problem solved.

Next it was on to the kitchen and finding room for all the cutlery and plates. But we struggled to find room for a bin.

After 24 hours of endless fun, I left and decided to head home ready for that relaxing drive down the motorway.

The sun was shining, the radio was on and I started to feel good about myself. I was a true friend. I had helped someone out and in the end, rather enjoyed it and might even do it again.

Within minutes everyone came to a grinding halt and I was stuck in virtually the same position for half an hour.

Don't forget what I told you. Always find an excuse....