I have come to the conclusion that for me change is not always a good thing.

However, a few months back I wrote about a dilemma I had when changing my service provider for my TV, broadband and telephone line.

You see, I was so enraged at my Direct Debit continually rising that on the spur of the moment I decided enough was enough.

“Change to us and we can save you £25 per month,” the cheesy salesman stopped me in my tracks on Sauchiehall Street.

“Let’s look at the big picture,” he smiled as he tapped repeatedly on his clipboard. “If you change to us I can assure you that you’ll save £300 a year,” he promised, as I cautiously calculated his offer.

“With that extra £25 a month madam you could have a gym membership or a facial, your nails done or...”

His list of alternative uses for my spare £25 a month seemed endless and before I knew it his salesman grin sealed the deal and I found myself signing my life of tranquillity away. All for the sake of £25 a month.

Now that very rash decision was in May and without going over all the technical hitches I’ve endured since then, my TV, broadband and telephone seemed to be finally up and running.

That was until my brother Jim arrived to help.

“Oh, I see what the problem is,” Jim tapped up and down my main living room wall where the plasma TV hung.

“You need an aerial cable and an HDMI cable to run from your TV to these,” he explained as he pointed to the black boxes on my coffee table which were supplied by my new service provider.

“OK,” I sighed. “Write down exactly what I need to buy to get my telly up and running and I’ll get everything tomorrow.”

A few days later Jim appeared at my house resembling Bob the Builder laden with tools of every description.

However, I couldn’t for the life of me work out why he needed such an array of equipment to wire up a couple of cables, but decided to say nothing and head out to the shops.

After all, he was doing me a huge favour by wiring up my telly, so best not to interfere.

Returning home some hours later I noticed Jim’s car was gone and I excitedly assumed my telly and new TV channels were now up and running. But no. Oh, no. I stood at the entrance to my living room and stared at the deep gash about a foot long in my main wall underneath the telly which had cables sticking out the hole and, on top of that, my skirting board had been removed and lay underneath a mountain of tools.

“Jim,” I was aware my voice was a little high-pitched when I called him.

“What the heck is happening to my living room?” – and before he could answer – “I thought all I needed were a few cables wired up?”

“Calm down, calm down,” Jim replied.

“You don’t want big black cables running down your wall do you?”

I was finally silent as he continued.

“So I need to rip out the plaster, hide the cables and re-plaster the wall.”

Argh...I was ready to scream.

“So what else do I need to buy?”

“Well, a tub of ready-mix plaster and a large wallpaper scraper.”

“More money,” I mumbled to myself.

A week later and the wall was plastered with all unsightly cables hidden, but as I stared at my patchy wall.

“Looks like you’ll need to paint your main wall again,” my daughter advised.

More money.

“In fact, you might as well redecorate the whole living room mum or it’ll look a bit patchy.”

More money.

“And the skirting board needs replacing and painting too as its all nail holes.”

More money.

“And it looks like your cream carpet could do with a shampoo.”

More money. Just as I was mentally totting up how much this whole fiasco was costing me, my granddaughter Eilidh came through to the kitchen looking proud as punch.

“I’ve polished your coffee table nana and it’s all shiny again.”

“How lovely.”

I smiled to myself because Eilidh knew all this dust and mess was getting to me.

But on further inspection I discovered that my little helper had used the sanding block for the plaster to buff up my high gloss black coffee table which was now covered in scratch marks!

Totally scunnered I spewed out my list of moans to my friends at our weekly catch up.

“Save myself £25? Save myself £25?” I parroted.

“I spent a bloody fortune what with a cables, plaster, tools, paint, carpet shampoo and a new coffee table.”

My pals thought it wise not to laugh at this point as I added: “Remind me never ever to change anything in my house ever again.”