Saturday Gardening

Monday morning I had arranged to work from home for the explicit purpose of being available for Seeboard man to come and change my meter. Not that I wanted or needed my meter changed, but Seeboard insisted, therefore I had to take a half day off for them. Engineer would arrive sometime between 7am and noon so I would be able to get into work for 1pm. Is that all right, madam? I suppose so, yes. Having got up at 6.30am so that I would be decent when engineer arrived, I pottered and worked and wondered when engineer would turn up. Planned to call Seeboard at exactly noon and tell them they were too late and that next time they would have to send engineer around at my convenience. 9pm on a Saturday for example. Engineer in fact arrived at 11.58. One hour later he left. One two-minute mile later I was at work. Actually, it was more of a twenty-minute totter in three inch heeled boots but I think I prefer the first image.

Monday evening, we lugged our cylinders and kit all the way up to Chatham pool for part of our lifesaving course. Did swimming stuff and snorkelling stuff, and lugged still dry kit all the way home again.

Tuesday received proper certificate for management course. Yay. Go me. Read in the paper that that the shop opposite our offices was raided on 25 April for sex trafficking. I wasn’t in the office for a lot of that day, so that’s my excuse for not noticing. However, two of my staff who sit by the window and are highly skilled in the art of observation (not only spotting men in hard hats and work boots, men in uniform etc. etc., but they can also spot a Magnum ice cream at four hundred yards, Manolo boots at eight hundred yards and a Millen handbag at over a mile), somehow managed to fail to spot the large volume of officers and brightly coloured vehicles descending upon the place in the middle of that afternoon.

Wednesday and Thursday came and went with a vast multitude of manipulative devious and bickering couples with manipulative, devious and screaming children. Little factoid; divorce trends have a direct correlation to school holidays. Little soapbox; divorcing adults are mostly overgrown spoilt children.
Friday began with delivering car to Invicta. Expressed my dissatisfaction at how my car had been left last week. Received phone call at 4pm advising that they had the correct part this time but were having difficulty putting it all back together again in a manner whereby the door actually fit where it was supposed to. I could have it back at 5.30 if I needed it, but the door wouldn’t be on properly and please could they keep her over the weekend instead. Long, deep breath and suddenly wish I’d learned meditation.
Now, Invicta have this annoying habit of ringing you up when your car’s in to see if they can sell you a new car. So, for the third Friday in a row, it’s no surprise to receive phone call from Invicta sales enquiring if I would like a new car.
Felt an irresistible urge to mess with salesman’s head. Just a teeny weeny bit in order to purge some of my Invicta spawned stress. Conversation went something like this.

- I see your Puma’s in for servicing. Would you like a new one?

- Oh! That would be nice, but I didn’t think you were making them any more.

- We’re not, but we have some really good alternatives.

- Alternatives to the Puma. Uh huh. What, exactly, are planning to cross sell me too?

- The Street Ka is…

- (I laugh)

- Or the Focus ST somethingorother or…

- (I chortle)

- Fiesta something else…

- (I cackle hysterically)

- (He trails off nervously)

- Have you ever driven a Puma? says me.

- (Enthusiastically) Yes, madam, a really great car to drive.

- And having driven one, exactly which of these you’ve mentioned do you think I would even consider thinking about?

- (nervous clearing of throat) Erm, well, the Focus is the closest…

- Hmmm, call me when you start ramping up the Puma again.

- Um, I’m sorry madam, but there are no plans…

- I know that.

- So you’re not interested in changing your car then?

- Funnily, no. But if you’re a really good boy I might let you try and persuade me to test drive the new Capri when it comes out.

- Erm, that’s not…

- Yeah I know that too. Ta ta!

Friday pm, Saturday and Sunday had girlie weekend. Watched far too much TV, ate far too much ice cream, and drank far too much vodka and white wine. Not in the same glass. I don't think.

On Sunday received texts from Chris remarking on encounters with dogfish and tope, of which I was appropriately jealous. Having now thought about it, however, I now realise that with the three-inch visibility those encounters are more likely to have involved specified fish slapping certain divers around the head with their tails for treading on them in the dark.

Yesterday, my car was ready. Picked her up and am very pleased with job they did. Am also very pleased with the 50% discount they gave for all the trouble. Yesterday evening, we lugged our cylinders all the way up to Chatham pool for part of our lifesaving course. This time we used them.

Went to dentist today to see hygienist. She complained that she couldn’t find anything to complain about, but after a good clean and polish and virtually sticking her head down my throat, she finally found evidence of… (gasp!) Jaw clenching! So she complained about that. At length. And recommended going on holiday.
I like my dentist.