Tag Archives: good start

The Doings of the Day and Some Old Photos

Yesterday, I missed posting. I didn’t mean to, and I wasn’t particularly busy but I didn’t do it in the morning because I had other things to do, and I didn’t do it in the afternoon because I had other things to do. In the evening I fell asleep in front of the TV, snoozed in front of the TV and, on waking, misread the clock as 10pm (“plenty of time”) and, after making a cup of tea, found it was  midnight.

And that was how it happened.

On the plus side, the man doing our garage doors got all the old paint off and undercoat applied. It’s 8.14 now and he’s back for a second day, putting the top coat on. He’s a good worker and does a good job.  He also restores my faith in human nature, doing a good day’s work for a fair price and showing there are still decent tradesmen about. I was beginning to doubt this after our initial experiences in the bungalow.

Julia is now calling me through for breakfast, but I will be back afterwards to ensure this post is published before I forget and do something else.

9.40. A leisurely breakfast and then a discussion on other jobs that need doing around the place . . .

When Mum and Dad moved in they spent what seemed like a lot of time and money on the place, but that was over 20 years ago. We seemed to spend a lot of money on maintenance while we were renting it out to pay for Dad’s care fees, but my sister arranged that through the letting agent. They used a builder they used for all sorts of work, who was the one we originally used when we moved in.

 

He was, as you may recall, expensive and we have had to have most of his work redone. The agents, meanwhile were just parasites who did very little for their monthly payments.

I just wiped 150 words out because I was starting to sound like an old-fashioned rack-renting moustachio twirling landlord. I’ll just say that the tenant fitted into the group quite nicely.

Rant averted.

Photos are some Julia took a few years ago. It was 2002 according to the date on the email. I must have forgotten to use them. They were on the farm where we used to stop for ice cream on the way to Llandudno. I will find the name for next time I use some of the photos (I have a few in reserve)

While the Cat is away…

It was all going so well…

I dropped Julia off at work, parked right outside the shop, found all the stock for eBay parcels on my first attempt and had everything ready for the post by the time Eddie turned up. The Boss was at the York Coin Fair today so I was then able to relax.

I wrote a reply to an email that had arrived overnight, and then kept my fingers crossed.  Then I wrote another email, demanding action from someone who was being slow with a parcel.

Finally, I composed a message to KFC in my head. I had to administer a touch of firmness to them earlier in the week after a rather disorganised meal on Sunday. We ordered four things – they were only able to supply one. Not good enough,  I told them.

Their, reasonably quick, reply agreed with me, told me that training would be administered and told me they looked forward to seeing me again soon.

Why would I go back soon after the meal I just had (a very different one from the one we had ordered)? The staff were disorganised, the manager was ranting and the bins were overflowing. And it was not as if they were busy. It was a far cry from the last meal I enjoyed there.

After reading their reply, I was left with the distinct impression that they were taking the mickey.

The last laugh is with me, of course. I will stop eating KFC, will save money, lose weight and, in all probability, be better off without them.

As I was savouring my imaginary victory my mobile rang with the reply from the first email. It was a positive reply, which was good.

I then put some things on eBay, served customers, unwillingly stayed an hour late to serve another customer, went back at 7.00 the see another customer (by arrangement  – he’s a market trader who needed stock but had been unable to get down sooner).

Now, after refreshment, I’m off to pick up Number Two son from work. It’s cheaper than paying for the bus.