Dear Diary. Today, 3-year-old's going to the cinema for the first time. He's going to see a film called Paw Patrol: The Movie. It's a shit choice if you ask me. Better to go see Candyman instead, at least that one's got candy in it. And that song: "Who can take tomorrow? Dip it in a dream? The Candyman can." Yeah, Candyman is a much better choice for a three-year-old. At least, I think so. It's been a while since I saw the original Candyman.

Hang on, is Candyman that one about the man with claws for hands? I think he might be. The girls in my primary school class tried to conjure him by saying "Candyman" five times in a mirror on a school trip. It didn't work but Jason Body wet his pants.

Anyway, 3-year-old's going to see Paw Patrol. "Do you want to come?" says Girlfriend.

"Nah," I say. I'm not wasting an hour of my life watching Paw Patrol: The Movie.

I give them a lift to the cinema. We don't own a car, by the way. Car ownership is only for rich people. We poor people have to make do with a shared car instead. You book it for the time you want, and then it's yours for that time. You pay by the hour: €4.50 an hour.

There's no satnav in this car. Or if there is, I can't figure out how to turn it on. So I'm using the Google Maps app on my phone instead. The phone is balanced precariously on my knee. I have to look down at it every few seconds so I know which way I’m going. If a kid runs out onto the road and I’m sorry but that kid is dead. And it’s the fault of this car.

3-year-old falls asleep on the way to the cinema even though it’s only an eight-minute drive. Girlfriend wakes him up and they go off to the cinema. I start to drive home.

Driving's boring so I put some music on. It's a complicated system involving Bluetooth and Spotify. Just when I'm about to give up, suddenly "Gonna Make You Sweat (Everybody Dance Now)" is playing on the speakers at a full volume and I don’t know how to turn the volume down. The music is ordering me to "dance now" even though I can't because I'm driving. I can't dance now, you stupid bastard! I'm driving!

Which fucking button in the car controls the volume? Then I have an idea: I push the volume button on my phone. That works. Thank Christ.

I get back to the car park. Now it's 4:36 pm and it is absolutely fucking pouring with rain. Imagine the most extreme rain possible. This is worse.

I try to get out of the car but I almost get blown away by a typhoon. So I retreat back into the car. At least it's dry in here. I feel like a caveman huddled in a cave, waiting for the storm to pass. But the rain shows no signs of stopping. Out of the windows, I can just about see people with shopping bags running for their lives.

There's a roar of thunder above me. For something to do, I get my phone out and try to record the rain. But for some reason, this makes the music come back on. Now it's "Halo" by Beyoncé. And it's playing at an ear-shattering volume, even louder than "Gonna Make You Sweat (Everybody Dance Now)". In a panic, I press the volume buttons on my phone but now, for some reason, these buttons are taking photos instead. In a desperate bid to stop the music and save my eardrums, I fling the car door open, but all this has done is welcome the pelting rain into the car. "Halo" is still playing. I can feel your halo, halo, halo...

I realize I have to close the camera app on my phone. That's why the volume buttons aren't working. So I close the camera app. Now I can change the volume. Thank god.

By the time I pick Girlfriend and 3-year-old up, the rain has stopped. They missed the whole storm. But then again, they did get to see Paw Patrol: The Movie.