Whiling away the time all day yesterday waiting for a parcel to be delivered, by the time that K arrived home from Day Care the courier had still not arrived. I announced to K that we would have to forgo our usual trip to Sainsbury’s for our Tuesday food supply stock up. She wasn’t going to be deterred so easily however.
Made a visit to the hairdressers yesterday, me for a perm to make mine look at least presentable, and K for her usual ‘short as possible without shaving’ look. Took some photos on the walk up there. It was trying its damnedest to rain, kept spitting and the dark clouds overhead looked ominous. We had to have something done in readiness for our ‘break away’ coming up very soon. My hair tends to get where I can’t do it myself when its straight, and as my long term readers will know, as soon as K’s gets any longer than an inch or so, she just has to have it shorn. Annoying for me, seeing as only the other day another shopper in Tesco’s said to me,
Ventured out yesterday (though I nearly forgot I’d made the appointment! Good job K has a fairly good memory) to take K down to the doc’s for her check up. It was wet and windy. I took some shots as we ventured down to town which I am showing here in a Live Writer Photo Album.
I was horrified to see that they are already accepting appointments for the flu jab! Cripes! It only seems like last month that we had our last flu jab done!
Time just flies by lately, when your young and foolish and wishing you were grown up it drags, when your getting on in years and wishing you could be young again it flies!
Thereby proving (to me at any rate) that time really is relative.
Braved the rain in the morning (had to, K was panicking about the food situation and the fact that she had nothing for packed lunch on Tuesday) so we set off during a slight lull in the downpour. Still ended up wet through though. After dinner, I caught up with the recordings I had made on my new PVR and generally slouched around the place. As soon as we have packed the shopping away, K is back in her pyjamas before you can say ‘Jack Robinson’ so she was slouching around as well. In fact, she had a sleep after dinner. (Hmm. I must remember to get her thyroid checked at the doctors.) She does seem to do a lot of sleeping these days.
Despite the forecast of rain, we were very lucky on Saturday for our walk along the canal (again!) with C.R.E.W. I swear that I will soon know every blade of grass, every narrow boat, every duck and every fisherman’s name before much longer. Although it had been spitting as we exited the flat, it stayed dry all the walk and we actually kept seeing some sunshine breaking through. We were supposedly going to have dinner in the Black Horse, but K and I got our own way and we ended up in the Railway Inn at Mirfield. We love that pub for it was there where we were first introduced to Stowell’s White Zinfandel which has become our firm favourite. It beats any other make into fits in our opinion.
As K and I stood waiting for our taxi yesterday in Tesco’s car park, we were nearly given a close body shave by a driver who pulled up sharply in the taxi pick up area, where he got out of his rather posh large car and leaving his car door open, quickly dashed over to the cash machines. He was fairly young and sported some designer sunglasses. On returning to his car a few minutes later, he glanced back at both of us as if we were something the cat had dragged in, climbed back in and drove off with the usual flourish that some drivers do who think they are a cut above the rest. All that was missing was the screech of tyres and both of us left standing there covered in a cloud of dust. As he sped away I noticed the last letters of his number plate.
B F A. Can you guess what I said they stood for to cause K to howl with laughter?
Traipsing up to the local Post Office clutching the letter that I took with me down to town yesterday to post and promptly forgot despite walking right past the town Post Office, set me thinking as I very often do just how lousy my memory is. I haven’t even the excuse that its only been this way since I became a senior citizen. I’ve always had a lousy memory. As long as I can remember. (pun intended.) I mean, how many other people do you know of who have to get daily reminders from their daughter who’s special needs are such that she is reputed to have a ‘short term memory deficit?’
Yesterday the plumber finally arrived. It turned out to be one half of the A team. Remember? The duo who on seeing the amount of work involved in sorting out the leak last time promptly scarpered off on holiday? He’s lost his trusty sidekick. Apparently because the young un had completed his second year at college, The housing association could not afford to keep him on and so he’s been finished. This led to a lengthy discussion between us both about the sad demise of apprenticeships and who was going to do all the plumbing, electrics and joinery jobs when the older guys retire.
Yesterday turned out to be one of those days again. Analysing its contents I realised that it was for the most part, centred around feet. It began with this Granny trying her best to cut her very long toe nails. Toe nails that have during the course of her sixty six years turned from ordinary toe nails to something akin to steel. Tried the nail cutters. No joy. Tried some scissors. They bent. Nearly went searching in desperation for a hacksaw. After resorting to using the very sharp (had horrible visions of being whisked off to hospital at this point with severed toe) kitchen scissors I somehow managed to make some headway and cut them shorter.