So today was terribly exciting. Ok, that's totally untrue.
Woke up early to get to Post Office before work. Beloved managed to go to the States without an adaptor for any of the twenty electrical items he took with him. I refrain from any further comment. So I got the 2 plugs we already possessed, packed them nicely with a love letter and hurried off to the main Post Office, with daughter - its' half term. I was delighted to see that I was in a queue of over 10 pensioners. Which begs the question why do ladies of a certain age adopt the woolly hat? It's not that cold, and God knows they are no fashion statement. But there they were - this sea of angora knitwear, spreading in front of me for all eternity. I waited. And waited. And waited. As the last wibbly wobbly made for the till, I breathed a sigh of relief. The postperson was very helpful and said my parcel should get to Beloved before the end of the week - providing I pay £7.50. Which I did. Cos I'm nice. And cos it will mean we can chat and stuff.
Teaching was fine. The work is looking very good and will make a nice display.
So charged off to the Bournemouth hospital to get my blood tests done. Have important appointment with Head of Whatever in 2 weeks time and have just discovered that the blood tests have to be done AT LEAST 2 weeks in advance. Oops. Hence the insanity today. Arrive at clinic and discover waiting time is only 85 minutes. Hang on. ONE HOUR AND TWENTY FIVE MINUTES??? I commented to the nice receptionist that this seemed a longish time to wait. And she said Poole would be 2 weeks, so it's down to you - 85 minutes or 2 weeks? Her sarcasm was lost on me. I sourly replied that I always got straight in when I went to Poole and handed over my paperwork. I suggest you go and get a drink she said. My mind immediately was sitting in a pub, with a pint of Guinness. Well, I was going to lose a lot of iron in those 2 small phials of blood - it's more than an armful! Of course, she meant tea. So went back to car, got daughter, had lunch, bought magazines, meandered slowly back and got called in after 5 minutes. Perfect timing.
The Step
So yesterday I managed to persuade my hulking great son and his diminutive girlfriend (now brunette) to move the slabs of concrete, to make a lovely step to our chalet shed thingy. After many tantrums (so reminiscent of his dear father) the steps were done. Today, went out with my mum to get some gravel (our chalet was becoming a walk in mudbath) and some wood for the next stage of panelling. Tom, my skinny great son, put down the gravel - for a price!
Tom
Tom's friend Ali has arrived and so now our household is back to 6 people..oh goody. At least it will stop me constantly getting out that extra plate and having to put it away again, with a lump in my throat.
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