26 May 2012 (Saturday) - Trannie and Sherlock
The weekly weigh-in. No weight loss this week. Hardly surprising really. I had a choccy bar on Wednesday, a fry up and Ben & Jerry's ice cream on Thursday and fish and chips in the week too. For weight loss to happen, intake has to be less than requirement. Still, not feeling constantly hungry made for a nice change for a while.
And with that thought in mind we set off to the Gorge for a full English breakfast. Eight of us met up, and once we'd each scoffed over a thousand calories of brekkie we went round to Chippy's house. "Trannie" the Ford Transit was full of stuff to be unloaded, so we got busy.
"Trannie" was soon emptied, and so we set off to Kennington to fill it again. That didn't take long; nor did emptying it. Getting stuff into the house was a different matter. The arm chair wouldn't fit through the door. No matter how we tried it wouldn't go. So we took the door off of it's hinges. That made all the difference. The sofa-bed was a different matter. It went through the front door, but wouldn't go into through the living room door. And when we tried to get vigorous with it, the bed bit popped open and the whole thing was firmly wedged in the hallway for half an hour. Oh how we laughed. Eventually we prised the sofa-bed out of the house, and in sheer desperation we thought we'd try to get it in through the window. It went straight in, and was in place in less than a minute.
Back to Kennington for loads more furniture, and then after a quick buffet (very nice!) we made one last run with "Trannie"; this time to empty a garage. We played heading the garage door a few times, and then having filled Chip's house full to overflowing with furniture, boxes and stuff we all left them to the unpacking.
Saturday is now catalogue collection day. On Thursday we dished out catalogues; this afternoon we fetched them back. And my piss boiled. As I went up to one of the houses I saw they hadn't left the catalogue out. I was about to pop a "we'll call back" note though the door when a little old lady came to the door. I asked if she had the catalogue; as she handed it over she apologised that she'd not had time to go through it; she'd just got back from hospital. She'd been there for several days having had treatment for her cancer. She chattered on with me for some time about her illness. It was quite clear to me that she had no one else to talk to about her cancer. What kind of world have we created when cancer patients have no one closer than the door-to-door delivery man to talk with about their illness?
To Tesco for some shopping, and then home where I had a Belgian bun for tea. (Four hundred calories.) And then we went out. We had two invites for Euro-vision song contest parties, but this year I really didn't fancy it. I had the option of a Monty-Python-a-thon as well. But we turned down all offers in favour of watching the two recent Sherlock Holmes movies.
I think we made the wrong choice. For all that the movies were (relatively) entertaining, I don't know why they were called "Sherlock Holmes" movies. They had as much in common with Doyle's Holmes as they did with Star Trek or Coronation Street. I liked the idea of seeing Tower Bridge being built, but on reflection I think I'd rather have watched Monty Python...