14 May 2010 (Friday) - Not Feeling Well...

Something out of the ordinary has happened - I’ve got a cold. I can remember in the past I regularly got colds, but since one mega-cold in the autumn of 2006, I don’t think I’ve had so much as a sniffle. So being somewhat out of practice, I’m feeling rather sorry for myself today.

Whilst sitting at work yesterday I felt a breeze round my unmentionables – somehow the gusset of my trousers had given way under the strain. So I popped to Asda to get replacements. Six quid for a pair of black troosers. The last pair cost me fourteen quid. OK, these new ones are nothing special, but they are only for work, and I don’t like spending too much money on work clothes. For all that we have protective clothing, you never know what you might spill on them.

One of my colleagues needed a lift to the town centre at lunch time today. I was about to volunteer to drive him (being keen to show off my new car), but before I could offer a lift, he pre-empted me by offering to buy me dinner if I gave him a lift.

In the end a few of us drove up to town. I was hoping to have a look in the new Cex shop, but it hasn’t opened yet. I’ll go back later. But I got McDinner, which was a well deserved treat.

And then to Curry’s after work to get a replacement cable to plumb my Sky HD box into the phone line. A few months ago when I was looking at new tellies I mentioned about how unhelpful Curry’s were. I only went to them today because they were on my journey home. I wish I’d taken my money elsewhere. The young lady who helped me was pleasant enough, but it took some effort to pry her away from the conversation she was having with the other staff members.

When I’m just browsing, they are over me like flies round a dog turd. When I want their help – nothing.

And then home – a few days ago I mentioned that the council were planning to clean out the gutters. This is now the third time that this hasn’t happened. What are they playing at? Probably the same game that is being played at the DVLA. I came home to find two letters from the DVLA: one confirming I am no longer the registered keeper of my old car and that I have sold it. And another one demanding that I pay the road tax on said sold car.

Over tea we watched Doctor Who – none of this new fangled nonsense – proper Doctor Who as God intended. Or Sylvester McCoy at any rate, which would probably be Old Nick’s doing rather than the Big G. Someone’s decided she needs to watch fifty episodes of “classic” Doctor Who as a challenge for no adequately explored reason. Tonight we watched four, which leaves another forty six. I’ve had a count, and have another forty four episodes on the shelf (some quality, some not so), so perhaps this is fate telly me to buy more DVDs…

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