Where does the time go? End of August? It cannot be!
I have decided to force myself to be positive about things because (as you’ll see) it’s been a bit of grim week. But sunshine and jolliness are just on the horizon – hurrah!
1. The National Health Service. Once again in the middle of the night, I called upon its powers of rescue and it delivered. Luckily I was not the poorly person but the night of drama meant I only got 45 minutes sleep which has left me slightly shot to pieces. I am hopeful the weekend will help sort out my slightly random sleep patterns (although based on the evidence of last night and being wide awake at 5.15, I’m not so sure).
2. My early morning wanderings around the garden (yes, I know I’m weird) meant I saw the morning star which is one of those exciting things you forget about on a day to day basis.
3. Going to Boots and stocking up on goodies for my holiday fills me with excitement. Eight more (uninterrupted hopefully) sleeps until I am overdosing on feta and slapping on the suncream.
It started as simple manslaughter. Going outside in the dark and hearing the crunch squish as I trod on a snail or two. But this weekend it became an out and out killing spree as I decided to take on brown, slimy, no good for anything slugs. Yuk!
For some reason I decided to dig out a flower bed that’s been bugging me and give the plants more space. And that’s when I discovered their lair. All gloopy, slow moving sliminess. Since I disturbed them they’ve started appearing all over the place so I’ve become extremely liberal with the salt. I only have Maldon though so extermination is proving somewhat costly. A bag of table salt may appear in my next shopping basket.
1. A solitary cotton wool cloud in a big blue sky.
2. Delicious baby chuckling from an unseen garden. I don’t know what fun was being had but the laughter spread happiness far and wide.
3. People who run very very fast. I have never been able to run fast (I’d be way slower than this lady) but get very excited by people who can.
So there I was just before 9am on a Saturday morning having a nice cup of tea and watching a bit of morning news when there was a ring of my shiny new doorbell…and there were five big men of various eastern European extractions on my door step.
Apparently I was required to hand over a large amount of money to these men and in return they might consider actually making my door the correct shape and size for the frame (obviously I was foolish in initially believing this might be done as a matter of course) and might actually come up with a solution for the broken panes of stained glass they caused when they were building my porch. Except at first they wanted to try to shift the blame for the broken glass – AGAIN. Allegedly my painter might have broken them with some wild dervish-like ladder dance. Except the glass was broken before the painter turned up.
Feeling quite brave I said the door needed to be fixed first and actually what were they doing here uninvited on a Saturday morning? Apparently the job was ‘in the book’, good of them to make the appointment without letting me know.
So the door got lengthened and came back, this time with just two men. But these were not two ordinary men, they had been to the ‘extracting money with threats’ charm school. They were going to take the door away unless I paid them then and there. Now I don’t know about other people but I am not in the habit of just having £1000 about my person on a normal Saturday afternoon. So I phoned their office and explained that as they had turned up unannounced on a Saturday I did not happen to have access to large amounts of cash and I was feeling rather uncomfortable about their non-customer friendly attitude. Eventually (and it took a lot of persuading on my part) we agreed that I could pay this morning – what with Monday being a working day when access to cash is a tad easier.
So now just the repair of the stained glass to go. Apparently one of the solutions to this is taking away my front door. Yes, because not having a door on your house in deepest, darkest London is actually a marvellous idea encouraged by the Met and insurance companies wholeheartedly. According to the illustrious builders it doesn’t matter because I now have a porch door. Yes, a glazed porch door which would obviously provide ample camouflage that there’s a big gaping hole in the front of my house.
Why is dealing with any type of builder person fraught with stress? I asked myself this quite a lot at 3 o’clock last night when I was mulling over getting completely worked up about the situation. This morning I have paid some of the money but I refuse to pay it all until everything is the way it should be (ie unbroken and working properly). Obviously I may return home this evening to find they’ve taken all the doors off the house.
I have been neglecting my 3BT-ing recently (mainly because I’ve been hibernating in the world of sad sack, so I’ve decided to break free and try to be decidedly more jolly)
1. My lovely colleagues for not bothering me today because they knew I was poorly pants.
2. The pleasure of a warm shower when you’ve been sweaty and sicky feeling.
3. Magazines – smart people writing interesting things in short articles which can hold my sickly attention span.
In a professional capacity I have had it up to here (somewhere about 6 feet over my head) with swine flu. I am quite convinced that people are being unnecessarily panicky bonkers about it all (obviously this does not apply to people who are properly sick – a very tiny percentage, rather the vast majority who look accusingly if you happen to sneeze on the bus and believe the newspaper scare-mongering). Anyway, due to clients, I seem to spend almost all of my days at the moment thinking about it, talking about it and writing about it.
In an attempt to provide some lightness and diversion, I have been trying to get out and about more so on Saturday I saw my lovely friends who moved to Hong Kong in January and are back for a quick visit. Rather excitingly, I’m planning to go and see them in oriental climes in the New Year.
On Sunday I went to see Chun Yi at The Coliseum. I’d read some pretty dreadful reviews and it was all a bit ‘light as a feather’ but do you know sometimes, you need some light as a feather and small Chinese boys bouncing off their foreheads to make you smile.
And last night I tried my very first margarita ever. This was actually a bit of a shock to me too but I seem to remember deciding quite a long time ago that I didn’t like tequila so I’ve never had one. Turns out I was missing something quite tasty and delightful although I expect the rarified atmosphere of the Artesian bar helped (complete with lovely nibbly bits and a conversation with one of the most passionate cocktail makers in London). Obviously I may have to do some more market research before committing to margaritas properly in the future…
Not much typing action going on as I’ve hurt my back and can’t feel my fingers. I do sometimes wonder why my body thinks it’s perfectly acceptable to act as if it’s 20 years older than me…