Last night I was rather perturbed to find a lump in my side. It was about the size of a pea, and was rather tender. This morning I found it was gone. Let’s hope it stays that way.
And then off to work early - I moved my car early because the council said they were going to be cleaning out the gutters. They said that a few weeks ago and didn’t. Again they didn’t. There’s now a sign saying they will do it on Thursday. Perhaps I should phone them to see what they are up to.
Before work I popped into Asda to launder some fake money. I say “fake money” – last night I put a magnet in my pocket (don’t ask) and was amazed to find it stuck to some of my copper coins. Some, but not all. A little research on the internet shows that “coppers” are actually made from copper-plated steel, and so should be magnetic. I wonder what my non-magnetic ones were made from? Or who made them? I took no chances and fed the whole lot into the self service checkout when buying my lunch this morning. After all, that’s where it came from in the first place.
I came home from work to find a very subdued next door neighbour. He asked me to apologize profusely to “Daddies Little Angel TM ” about the noise of his wife’s piano, and he told me how unfair it was of his wife to play the piano whilst people are trying to sleep after night shifts. From the way he spoke I formed the assumption that there had been some sort of ding-dong between him and someone in our house earlier in the day.
However on quizzing the troops, it would seem that no one of my tribe has had any dealings with next door for some time. Mind you, I can remember him telling me how anti-social the piano was whilst I was painting the house a few weeks ago. On reflection I can’t help but wonder if it’s him who’s got the hump with the noise of the piano, and wants us to complain for him.
I’m not grumbling. All the time the piano is tinkling day after day, they can’t whinge about anything we might get up to. And it’s not that noisy, really.
On going through my post I saw I had a letter from Sky telling us that our HD box wasn’t connected to a phone line. It blinking well is, or so I thought. On closer inspection I found the cable was broken. Ho hum – more expense.
I’d spent the day trying to organise a cycle ride for the weekend. The major sticking point was contacting the putative destination. If you use the internet to search for “Black Horse Pluckley” you’ll get ten thousand entries, all listing the phone number as Ashford 840256. And when you ring that number, it don’t work. So before going to the trouble of planning a route I thought we might pop out there this evening to see if the place has closed down. It’s still open, and over a pint of MasterBrew I got the correct phone number. I told them that the wrong number was plastered all over the Internet. They seemed to know all about it, and didn’t seem overly bothered.
I’ve booked a table for mid day on Sunday. I’ve left the time deliberately vague, as my cycling speed is also deliberately vague. If any of my loyal readers fancy coming along, do let me know…