8 January 2014 (Wednesday) - New Dishwasher

I could probably have done with an earlier night last night; having spent far too long dozing on the sofa before finally going to bed at 1am.

Over brekkie I read something which... what can I say. Read the article here. Some young lad has been seen on telly sobbing his heart out becuse his favourite football team lost. The managers of that club are trying to find that lad to offer him VIP tickets as an apology for the upset caused.

Shouldn't the police and social services be trying to trace the lad to put him with parents and carers who could help the boy to realise what does and doesn't matter in life?

And before anyone posts in hate mail, I know in advance that nearly everyone who does feel strongly about this young lad's tears will feel that it is only wrong because he is sobbing about the wrong football team.

What is it about football that instills such passion? If you watch ten minutes of the sport, (be it the world cup final, or half a dozen children kicking a ball round the park) you really have seen all that the game has to offer. Don't get me wrong - I don't dislike football as such; I just don't understand what's (apparently) so good about it. And despite over forty years of asking that question no one has ever given anything approaching a reasoned explanation about why such a simple sport arouses such high feelings and emotions.

After brekkie I set off to the MOT shop to collect er indoors ^TM" and to drive her to work whilst her car failed its MOT. And with her safely ensconced at the workhouse I came home to find that the dishwasher that I helped carry to the front garden last night had been stolen from our front garden. I was quite pleased about that - one less thing to have to lug round to the skip.

I put the lead on to "Furry Face ^TM" and took him for a little walk. We went through the park where we ran into (literally) Orangehead and her chunky little friend. Over the lasst few weeks Orangehead has been losing the orange hue and had been becoming somewhat grey, but she must have had a re-spray for Christmas. She's back to her usual colour. We walked on past Singleton Lake and out to Great Chart. Over the Christmas break "Gordon Tracy" told me that one of my Wherigos had gone walkabout. There is nothing more disconcerting than an errant Wherigo so I went to check on it only to find it was where I'd left it three months ago.

Oh well, "Furry Face ^TM" needed a walk anyway.

I had a text message. The er indoors ^TM"- mobile had inded failed its MOT. But only on one tyre. If I could collect her from work and drive her back to the MOT centre she could then sort out the necessaries. So I collected her and did what I was told. I know my place.

I was home just in time for the delivery of the new dishwasher. Following last week's debacle, this time we were taking far more of a D.I.Y. approach; all we wanted from the shop was for them to deliver a new dishwasher. And that was what it did.

I could have spent the afternoon plumbing it in, but er indoors ^TM" said she was going to do that. So I took her at her word, and left tthe thing in its packaging in the kitchen. I then Hoovered (with a Dyson) round it, cleaned the mud off of my wellies (in the bath), and then started watching "Death comes to Pemberley"; a sequel to "Pride and Prejudice" which I had recorded onto the SkyPlus box. The first episode was watchable.

I worked on the party guestlist for a bit, then listened to the latest Total Ashford podcast. It was quite interesting; with job hunting tips, news about all sorts of local stuff, and even an article about the astro club. Then the doorbell went. Some arrogant little scrote was trying to sell double glazing and wouldn't take "shove off" for an answer. Apparently only his double glazing has any thermal insulating properties at all, and when I eventually shut the door on him he shouted through the letterbox that he would leave me to carry on wasting heat through my windows. I wish I had taken his leaflets; I would at least know which company I could publically run down.

Then the phone wouldn't stop ringing. Half a dozen calls which could have been about absolutely anything; the Indian accent was so thick I could not understand a word. Alan from lifestyle choices with a survey which (apparently) I was obliged to complete for him; I hung up. And finally Debbie called from Wills-4-U. I asked her how many calls it was reasonable for me to expect in one afternoon. She was quite pleasant, and said that company policy was to phone anyone who hadn't specifically asked them not to phone.

I wonder how that would stand up in court. I expect it's probably the truth. But it prompted me to review my will. I reviewed it. You can read it if you want - there's a link to it at the top of this page.

er indoors ^TM" came home and installed the dishwasher. I say "installed"; she did so in a supervisory manner. you can guess who did the donkey work. I took some photos of the assistant. The thing is having sea trials before we trust it entirely. I'm expecting leaks. Better to expect the worst and have your expectations exceeded than to hope for the best and be disappointed...