I woke this morning with that same headache to find the first fruit of my loin in residence. We exchanged pleasantries, and i was about to do my own thing when I slowly became conscious that he was expecting something of me. I'd completely forgotten that I'd asked him to come round to help me with (do for me) some heavy lifting in the garden. The original plan from a year or so ago would have made today's efforts redundant. I had planned to replace the pond filter with a self-cleaning one. But in this new age of austerity, self cleaning pond filters are but a pipe dream. Which is a shame.
I could have managed on my own, really. If I had to. But it was the sort of job that I could do on my own in an hour, or in five minutes with some help. It took us about three minutes to get the pond sorted. And once the ambient temperature improves I shall turn the pond back on.
I spent a little while doing on-line surveys. My political views and my opinions on insurance advertising were sought. The doorbell rang. Some normal people had come about the scooter. I wondered what scooter. So did they. Clearly they'd come to the wrong house. I then wrote another thousand words of my novel, including three deaths. I was quite pleased with the death scene; even if it was a bit of a blood-bath. I think it's the only one I'm going to have. But if any of the characters piss me off, then they will be brown bread. Writing, like painting, gives you a world over which you have absolute power.
We then went out delivering catalogues to the masses. The idea is simple. I stick the catalogue through the door. The punter is amazed at the bargains (top quality at low prices). They fill out their order form and leave it and the catalogue on the doorstep for me to collect a day or so later. My loyal readers can get the bargains on-line by clicking on the link labelled "Stuff for Sale" above.
Some people don't like having things put through their letterboxes and have signs up asking for no junk mail or circulars. When I see such a sign I respect it and don't deliver a catalogue to that house. Today I found a house which had taken it's prejudice against junk mail to the extreme. The letter box was sealed, was absolutely gummed up shut and un-openable through the judicious application of several miles of sellotape.
I'd never seen so much sellotape. Whoever lived in that house was determined that nothing would ever get through that letterbox.
Home for a spot of lunch. As luck would have it we got home just minutes before the rain started. Again plans for stuff to do in the garden were put on hold. I sparked up my lap-top and sat in front of the telly. If nothing else it was a chance to get stuff watched from the Sky-Plus box. Talking of which the Sky-Plus box packed up half way through an episode of Time Team. It just stopped working. Pulling the plug and re-booting the device got it working again. Let's hope the thing isn't on the way out.
And so to Canterbury. Six of us found our way to Nando's for a spot of tea. Very nice. I'd been told my work's I.D. badge was good for twenty per cent off of the bill. I was - sort of. It was good for twenty per cent of off my bill. My bill. For me. Not for anyone else in the party. I thought that was a tad misleading, but it was better than a poke up the bum; and Nando's is good scoff, so I can't complain really.
We popped into the lady Luck for a swift half, and then we went round to the Marlowe theatre where we met up with the rest of our party. Over a dozen of us sat down to watch one of my favourite musicals - Avenue Q.
This was the third time I've seen the show, and it was excellent. I can't wait to go again...