Michael had been to Londinium yesterday to pick up a new ( to him ) car. By the time he’d travelled home to pack and then travelled up to see his L’il though taller bro’ it was around midnight. We chatted for a while over coffee and I listened to his tales of being a wheeler-dealer ( no wonder some call him Del Boy). It was getting late before I made my way through to finish my day’s emails. I know if I leave them, there are always over 100 by morning.
Somehow I managed to wake at about 5.45 am and went straight back into messages. Only 62 (YAY) and quite a few of those could be scrapped. I worked till 7 am then went through to turn the fish tank light on- we’ve already done the joke about me turning the fish on- take my assorted meds and make a coffee. Feeling especially generous of heart I didn’t wake Michael until 7.30 with a coffee. I was granted the usual grunt so I disappeared to get myself washed and dressed. By 7.45 I was startled to hear a voice ask me whether I was OK. Startled because I usually have to wake him 3 times, tell him there are vestal virgins dancing nude on the lawn or revert to threats of water by the bucketful. Anyway, he’d awoken and was in a terrible mood, happy but full of biting sarcasm. Just about normal then really.
We normally have a routine for a Saturday which starts with me suggesting which store I’d like to do the shopping in and then me wiping the dripping sarcasm from his chin before we went out. Today was slightly different in that Michael suggested the shopping venue for a change because he wanted to visit a specific garage in Chester. I acquiesced and off we went. On the way I realised there was another store within reach that would be better for us because they stock a brand of unmentionable white sticks the other supermarket don’t stock. I was not to know this but it was my first major error of the day.
I apologise for this but I need to backtrack to a moment a couple of weeks ago. I was suffering major frustration with my computer ( thank you the person whose message from Twitter gave me a virus). Alone in the house I was kneeling on the floor in my bare feet trying to disconnect the power line. When I eventually succeeded I struggled to my feet only to notice two large patches of blood on the floor which it seemed had leaked from the nail on the ‘index’ toe of each foot. I suppose in maintaining my balance I may have pressed too hard. The plasters were now off.
Back to the ‘Now’ of the tale. We reached the Supermarket and parked up. My blue badge gives us leave to park in disabled bays. I hobbled slowly in on my crutches , nice bright blue ones thanks to ebay. Michael put the bags on the trolley and the expedition was in motion. Strawberries from the fruit aisle and a reminder to pick up cream later in our journey. Potatoes, meat and round the corner to look for sausages. Having scored those it was some yoghurts and on to the pop for some Vimto and some lime juice. Cream, milk and other sundry items went in and then in was time for the cakes. As I pointed out some nice looking eclairs my snoring on his feet driver backed up. He moved to the side but the trolley didn’t and ran straight over my toe. Toe 4 on my right foot to be precise. All of a sudden no nail ! Yeeouch. I backed away at speed then stepped forward as Michael turned round in concern. s I did so, I walked straight into a trolley wheel. What are the odds I’d connect with the same toe? Whatever they are, I did.
Hobbling ahead to collect bread we then headed for the till when I managed to drop £40 on the floor much to the amusement f the young cashier. Deflated we made for the in store cafe for breakfast. My shaking hands ensured I had a bottle of orange to wash my sin down as Michael wouldn’t trust me to hold a coffee. Everything was washed down and somehow I’d remembered to take the appropriate tablets or he’d have made me eat again. We left and made for the garage where his business was concluded in less than a minute. If you knew how he talked you’d have expected me to have caught up on at least a quarter hour of sleep. As it was still early, not even 11 am yet he suggested we go to my daughters to see how the pregnancy progresseth. In view of the fact my prediction was for a birth yesterday, it progresseth not a lot. Yvonne is due around 15th really but I’m convinced he’s trying to dig his way out. At their house there’s mayhem as they try to prepare the place before the baby is born. Having moved not long ago there was a lot to do by way of decoration. That part is now done and the nursery is finished thanks to her husband Ugo, but we were just in time to help with a few odd jobs. I ‘volunteered’ to build a coffee table. It looked a simple job and there was only one drawer in it. I swear that the instructions would have defeated the codebreakers at Bletchley Park. I don’t know whether they were written in the dialect of a yak herder from Outer Mongolia but I’m sure the diagrams were drawn by the same cartoonist who drew Alfred Hitchcock’s head. ( For anybody under about 40 I’m sorry, maybe you can look it up on one of these phones I can’t get to grips with). Yvonne joined me and started making the drawer as I started to put the sides together. Michael joined us and helped me. Two sides up we erected the braces between front and back which would also serve as drawer runners. Then it was time to fix them together. We stood them up and Michael asked ” Which one of these two is wrong?” of course he grinned when he asked. One of the side panels was on upside down. As he gripped it to get the dowels out and unscrew pieces he knocked the other side panel. Where did it land? I’ll allow you three guesses. Of course there was all the sympathy in the world with ” Don’t get blood on the wood.”
Eventually we left feeling proud of our donation. Heading back I swear I heard him snore as he took the wrong road and we ended up at a small shopping centre we didn’t know existed. Yes, we dropped in and got a few pieces before setting of on a magical mystery tour which took all of two minutes to get us on the road we wanted. One more stop on the road home and we had a coffee before completing the journey. Unpacked, groceries away and after a small interlude with my emails I made a meal. I passed Michael’s through on a tray and returned to the kitchen. There was a loud shout of ( **** rude word) and when I went in the plate looked like Mount Fuji. The top of the salt cellar had become detached and smothered the meal. Being of noble heart I passed my tray through and tried to get rid of as much salt from his meal as possible to make it edible. I managed to save quite a bit. I dished up the strawberries to follow.
In an effort to recover something from the day I waited for a suitable gap in TV programmes and asked Michael if he’d wash my hair. I have to point out that it’s not laziness on my part, I can’t easily raise my arms above my head without suffering angina. Also, he’s a great hairwasher and knows what “Can you give my head a little scratch” means. So, down I knelt beside the shower cubicle with my head over the edge. I held the hose until he was ready to wet my hair and then while he washed it. After rinsing he dropped the hose inside the cubicle. Great, up surged a jet of spray straight into my face and fountained over my head. I grabbed it back under control as I gasped for breath.He did the second was and rinse with me maintaining a strong grip after which he helped me to my feet and I put the hose back where it belonged and turned off. I have no idea how my jeans managed to stray dry but as we looked round we could see Noah’s flood across the floor. He had a wonderful time mopping that up.
We’ve chatted this evening and watched a little TV.before me coming back to the computer. Ebay behaved ( apart from not letting me win the items I wanted) and I managed to do most of the mail but as I progressed to the last half dozen the computer decided not to co-operate. It took over an hour to do three messages and the cursor just hung on the last one so I’ve shut everything down to concentrate on this. I’m not risking kneeling down tonight, I’ll just hope things work themselves out. Have you had days that are catalogues of disaster that cause you to laugh so much as I have today?
barsetshirediaries 