I HATE it when I do this, but I’ve decided to write about something that I know is going to offend someone.

So, before I start, let me just apologise to any member of the female race who is lucky enough to be one of those handy-lady types who manage to put most blokes to shame when it comes to DIY.

Recently, I thought I’d become a member of this club when I spent two weeks on holiday ‘down under’ turning myself into the DIY Wizard of Oz.

Cleaning, painting, installing curtain rods, hemming curtains, hammering, chiselling, you name it, I was a one man (or lady) do it yourself TV show in the making. In fact I was so good I wouldn’t have been surprised to receive a phone call from Sarah Beeny looking for advice.

However, as is almost always the way, my new found cockiness was not only short lived but also unjustified, because just two days before returning home, it all went embarrassingly wrong.

Fortunately though there were no injuries and we didn’t have to call in anyone to help (unlike the time I managed to flood the kitchen, and discovered that cork tiles do indeed have the ability to soak up more than twenty times their own weight in water...).

There I was all but ready to board the plane with just one remaining task on my list of things to do for my mum. And a simple task at that, replacing a broken doorknob.

So off to the mega hardware store I went, returning with the perfect shiny new knob.

Except for the fact I was unable to attach it to the door.

It appears I was supposed to know you have to check the length of the screw in the packet when buying a new doorknob.

I, of course, had managed to pick up one which was far too short. So armed with measurements (the screw had to reach at least the freckle on my index finger) I returned to the store where I managed to buy another knob with a screw which was perfect…ly too long.

By now there was no way I could go back to the same shop for help, so I went to another hardware store, where a kindly feller snipped the end off for me.

Unfortunately, I also managed to muck up that measurement, which meant the screw was still too long, leaving the knob to swivel in my hand.

Too embarrassed to return to store number two, I took my obviously already snipped screw to ANOTHER hardware outlet and explained my plight.

Luckily, the expert lady behind the counter took pity on me and cut it down to the correct size.

So after just two doorknobs and FOUR trips to hardware stores, I was finally able to affix the replacement to the door.

I’m sure there’s some sort of lesson to be learnt here, but I suspect it involves the inappropriate use of the word knob and my name, so I think I’ll leave well enough alone.