I woke this morning
feeling rather grotty; but when faced with the choice of getting on
with life or sitting and sulking I decided to get on with life. I've
only got a cold, but colds are *only* colds when you don't
actually have one.
I spent a few minutes
spotting spelling mistakes on recommended websites on the Internet
before taking "Furry Face TM" for
a walk. He did seem rather tired and sleepy over brekkie; the moment
I stood up he leapt into action obviously expecting to go out.
We first went to Bowens
Field Wetland Park where I saw that the supermarket trolley had again
been thrown into the pond. I've already fished it out twice in less
than a week and I couldn't be bothered to make a third effort this
morning. I left it there. Was that wrong of me?
We then carried on into
Viccie Park where we terrified a dog which looked to be the big
brother of a Siberian timber wolf. We played nicely with a greyhound
and a springer spaniel, and we ran in terror from a rather
effeminate-looking chihuahua before coming home.
Once home "Furry
Face TM" had his brekkie and then curled
up in his basket and was snoring within a few seconds. I turned on
the laptop and checked out the Internet again to see if anything had
happened since brekkie time. It hadn't.
I seriously considered
phoning work to say I'd be off sick, but thought better of the idea.
I set off to work via a
spot of window shopping. Regular readers of this drivel may recall
that on 27 October 2014 I bought a new ironing board from the
cheapo-bargains shop. At the time I crowed about what a bargain it
was. I spoke too soon. I've given it a fair trial for six months and
it is crap.
Yesterday as a special
pressie "er indoors TM" bought me
a new ironing board (from Sainsburys) and at the risk of
appearing ungrateful, it too is crap. I stopped off a Dunelm on my
way to work. Since I was last there the place has dropped "Mill"
from it's name; however they still employ the same
disinterested-to-the-point-of-rudeness staff. And all of their
ironing boards are crap as well. Even the ones costing over seventy
quid are worse than useless to me.
It transpires that all
modern ironing boards are crap.
Not that many people do
ironing any more, but when you iron, you need a flat surface on which
to work (this is the "ironing board"). However all
modern ironing boards are riddled with holes for no apparent reason,
and using one is akin to ironing on a cheese grater. I shall take the
new ironing board to a traditional hardware store and see if they can
cut me a lump of hardboard to shape which I can then fasten to the
frame of the new ironing board. Or failing that I shall either have a
rummage round the charity shops or steal my mother's one.
I got to work, again I
wondered if I should have phoned in sick. I did my bit on a rather
busy day. At lunchtime I had sax practice. Not as much as I probably
should have done but it was rather cold and it's difficult to give a
faithful rendition of a musical score when you are so cold you can't
feel your fingers.
The rest of the day got
busier and busier, and I was glad when it was home time. However I'd
forgotten that "er indoors TM" was
staging a make-up party. Some very hopeful agent of ""make-up-R-us"
was trying to push vastly overpriced slap onto a less than convinced
public. Apparently the stuff goes on as a cream and comes off as a
powder.
It was at that point that
I nearly choked on my tea...
No comments:
Post a Comment