Wednesday August 20, 2008
We had news this morning that, with the arrival of the ‘lost’ documents things are moving satisfactorily on both fronts in the house sale and purchase deal. Not just that but our buyers’ surveyor phoned to make an appointment for Friday morning to carry out a 2.5 hour inspection. We’re not clear what the dear man is going to find to keep him occupied in a four-year old house for all that time but if that’s what he wants, that’s what he gets.
“Great,” I said. “That’s all looking very nice. Let’s do lunch in Burnham, shall we?”
“What for?”
“Change of scene. Breath of air. Open skies.”
“Oh. Good idea. Give me five to get changed.”
Just before we left our favourite delivery man arrived bearing another pack of flattened cardboard packing boxes.
“Are you sure these are for us?” I asked.
“The pack is addressed to you so you gettem. I just deliver the goods, I don’t think about them.”
“Sound policy.”
It turned out to be a mistake but the supplier, having apologized for the ‘inconvenience’, asked us to keep them or dispose of them as we see fit.
“There’s no question but that we’ll have enough boxes now,” Graham said.
“Fine. If there are any left over I’ll Freecycle them. Now, lunch?”
“Lunch.”
I made the mistake of having a roast beef dinner; not bad, but not something that I’d recommend. I’m still burping roast beef flavours gently now, at 19:19 in the evening, which is a little worrying because I have to be in the dentist’s chair at 08:30 tomorrow morning. Hey ho. At least the teeth are sparkling clean. I’ve taken particular care to be sure the teeth are sparkling clean. I’m hoping to persuade the good lady to take the last of the top ones out for me and I don’t want her to think it’s through lack of interest on my part. Just fair wear and tear, is all.
When we got back, fully fed, exercised by our sixty-minute post-lunch stroll along the prom, and well ventilated by gallons of fresh air, I was somewhat disheartened to find a letter from the NHS waiting for me, inviting me to take part in the national bowel cancer screening exercise. I’ll do it, how can you not when it’s offered free and with good intent? Not at all sure about any consequent treatment, though. At my age, and with my body mass, surgery in that area is something I’ll need a lot of persuasion to undertake. Besides, it’s simply not something to which a gentleman ought to be subject.
Like I say, I really don’t think that this ‘test, test and re-test’ culture is entirely a good thing. If you keep looking over and over for something bad in a system, any system, you’ll eventually find it.
Ho hum. We’ll see.
Graham has, at last, satisfied himself that his new, new, third time new spectacles are suitable and that he can live with them. It’s fine for me; I had my first spectacles at the age of three years so I’ve had time to get used to them. And then some. At age 48, though, it must come as something of a shock.
He does like them, though, and so do I. Horridly expensive frameless vari-focus things. He now insists that, next time, I must have the same for myself. We shall see.
Do my eyes look big in these?
