Those readers of mine who have known me for quite some time and are well aware of my luck might have all guessed by now that my enforced stint of waiting around yesterday for a plumber to arrive to fix the shower head holder ended up being a wasted day. Eventually at 4.30pm I rang the repair office to ask where this expected plumber had disappeared to.
“Sorry, Mrs L, somehow you have been missed from the list of people to contact, he has rung in today sick, can I make another appointment with you?”
Nothing much to post about. K toddled off to respite on Friday. (In a taxi) I busied myself tidying up the flat, mainly out of boredom. Saturday morning donned my new walking boots and moseyed down to town to meet the other members of C.R.E.W. We walked up Thornhills and then across Hartshead Moor area. Hadn’t a clue where we were. We did cross the M62 at one point. I took a photo of the traffic. Well, not so much the traffic, more the perspective of the road disappearing into the distance I suppose. Experienced one of my funny turns walking over the footbridge on our return journey over the footbridge later.
I’ve only just realised that because I have been so occupied with the tale of my recent visit to Scotland, I have missed telling the sorry debacle that we recently experienced concerning our shower. What a farce that turned out to be! I came very close to losing it completely and it was one of the reasons why I didn’t want to return home from Scotland.
It all began the week I was due to begin my visit to Scotland on the Friday. K and I always shower first thing in the morning and that Wednesday morning was no exception. I showered first and was in the cubicle a little longer than normal as I needed to wash my hair. K followed shortly after. I had just got dressed and done my hair when the bell rang. “Who the heck’s this?” I thought to myself. It turned out to be the guy who lives in the flat below us.