There have been a few things of note over the last few days. I had an email from the Royal Mail. They are still investigating my complaint and will get back to me soon. It’s already two weeks and my complaint was that they made it very difficult to talk to them and sort things out when they went wrong. They are rather proving my point for me.
I’ve just been reading an interesting bit on the internet, A well-known advocate of exercise and green lifestyle reveling how they decided to give up their car and use a bike and train for their 40 mile commute to work. Personally, I think the green alternative is to move house. Their lifestyle wouldn’t be quite as pleasant but it would be greener, and next time they criticise me for driving, I might be more inclined not to use the word hypocrite.
Northamptonshire Red Cross Flag
Yesterday I injected myself. I think I’ve missed a week, so I’m going to make more use of my diary. I use injector pens – gather a pad of fat (not difficult, I confess), press the plunger firmly to the flesh, try not to whimper. When you hear the second click it’s over and you can stop. This time, however, was different. There was no first click, very little feeling of being stabbed by a blunt nail, no whimpering and then . . . a click. I’m fairly sure it was the second click, as the needle had retracted and the cover had engaged. It was very strange, though it became stranger when, about an hour later, I suddenly felt a stabbing pin where the injection had been. It’s almost like my brain and my abdominal fat are in different Time Zones.
Photos – more paper flags.
Mayoresses Fund
And again . . .
It’s Wigan, by the way.