I
ached all over this morning as I heaved my carcass out of its pit, and my arm
was particularly sore. If not for the arm I would have blamed the bottle of red
wine we swilled last night. But the arm... that would be yesterday's injection.
I couldn't help but remember the
BCG vaccine we all had as schoolchildren after which everyone would cry out
in agony every time anyone went near their injected arm. The pain from the BCG
vaccination lasted for days, or (in the case of the weedier children seeking
to deter bullies) months... or so we all used to pretend
After
the morning’s usual toast and telly I set off to work on a very cold morning.
As I drove the pundits on the radio were talking about how both the major
pipelines carrying gas from Russia to Europe have
been sabotaged. Like we didn't see this coming?
And
the International Monetary Fund have said the UK's fiscal policy is crap.
I
don't really remember much else of the radio this morning. In the sports news (blah
blah sport...) there was an interview with someone with a thick Scottish
accent; so thick that I couldn't understand a word, and my attention drifted as
I found myself more concerned with the traffic which was rather busy this
morning. Far busier than it had been yesterday and Monday when I'd been on the
early shift and was going to work an hour earlier.
But
I got to work, and once there I did my bit.
In
between work I phoned the bank to ask what I do with cheques to do with Dad's
stuff made payable to "The Executor of...". It only took an
hour to get through to someone. It was a shame that the person to whom I got
through didn't really speak English, but there it is. Eventually he had to
concede he didn't understand a word I was saying and tried to put me through to
someone else... and the line went dead. So I phoned again. After two and a half
hours we established that I need to go into the bank to cash the cheque...
that's a pain in the arse...
And
talking of pains in the arse I spent much of the day suddenly sprinting to Trap
One... I wonder what set that off?
Late
in the afternoon a colleague in another department saw me, and asked how I was.
She claimed that everyone who had had the COVID jab with me yesterday had gone
home sick during the day today. I spent the last part of the day walking round telling
everyone how double-hard I was.
I
wonder if everyone else who’d had the jab felt as grim as I did and if they had
also had the two-bob-bits.
I came home via the
works’ cashpoint machine. “er indoors TM” had had a plumber
round to look at the dripping tap and the overflowing water tank earlier. He’d
said he could sort them both this evening so I got the dosh to pay him.
I must admit that it
was with a sense of “I bet he don’t turn up” that I sat down and carried
on the application for probate and one or two other dull but necessary chores to
do with sorting Dad’s house whilst we waited for him. Talking to other people
who have lost parents I am really grateful that Dad (and Mum) had got themselves
organised. Compared to what a lot of friends and colleagues have gone through,
what we are having to do with Dad’s estate is far more straightforward.
And
I was wrong; the plumber did turn up. Albeit an hour late. But he turned up,
which is far more than many other plumbers have done. He’s replaced the dripping
tap, and is currently getting busy with the water tank. The sooner he gets done
the sooner I get my dinner…
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