we think it’s all over…
Another Saturday, and whilst the peaceful and relaxing time I had envisaged did not go entirely according to plan, I have nevertheless had a pleasantly low-key week and managed to see every World Cup game bar three. Unfortunately last night’s England game was not one of these three, and I extend my sympathies to those who unwittingly handed over money to see such a shambolic and woeful display; the astronomical ticket price ought in my view to have included provision for this, perhaps in the form of a good book or better still, a bottle of Jack Daniels and a blindfold.
It would appear that the balance has been very much tipped in favour of the deserving with some unmissable play by teams whose players (unlike the England side) arrived on the pitch looking as though they had met one another before the game, and I have especially enjoyed watching North Korea hold their own admirably against Brazil until the final moments, Argentina and Germany in their opening fixtures whereas up next is Ghana v Australia this afternoon. I have explained this to two callers already today, neither of whom were seemingly aware that the World Cup is a football tournament. You would think the name would give it away.
Inbetween the during-the-day television watching (a rare enough treat to be thrilling in itself), I have taken advantage of the lovely weather with an impromptu trip to the beach and also got many of those irritatingly small ‘household’ jobs completed which are so insignificant individually as to be easily put off, but build up when you are not looking – a stack of superfluous paper has been shredded and eco-responsibly put out in the blue bag, the duvets have been to the laundrette and returned sparkling white, fluffy and smelling like summer clouds plus all of the clothing needing repair beyond my skills is currently ensconced at the menders in town for collection on Monday. In technical news, the crooks at BT have been unceremoniously dumped (the last straw being their declared intent to charge me slightly under three pounds a month for not making any telephone calls from my landline, which I do not use) and in complete contrast, the lovely folk at Southern Electric noted that I had overpaid my bill and kindly returned a couple of hundred pounds to my bank account without being asked, as well as adjusting my monthly contributions to reduce the likelihood of a repeat. Life is indeed a sea of contrasts, and never more so than when trying to organise the provision of household utilities.
I have also managed to fit in some carefully arranged meetings, and particularly enjoyed a change of scene for an extended assignation in York at a charming hotel by the river; an unexpected addition being dinner at the Blue Bicycle which turned out to be an extremely happy accident, having fabulous food, warm and welcoming decor and as I found out on my return home, a story all of its own – it turns out that the building was a well reputed brothel at the turn of the century, and the name refers to the bicycle its mistress would leave outside to signify that her premises was open for business. I am already planning my return visit, and am hoping for a look around the cellar where my Victorian contemporaries would have greeted their gentlemen callers, as well as some more of the ham hock terrine and possibly an extra order of braised ox cheek to go home with – all in all, the experience was a delight, and set the scene well for a couple of days of comforting inertia on the settee, with the occasional mini dilemma providing variety and interest (like the forgotten and slightly misshapen part-bar of desirably soft and warm milk chocolate unexpectedly discovered in a dressing gown pocket last night after tooth-brushing time).
To this week and very little to report apart from my Wednesday pit-stop in Manchester is fully booked bar a final late-afternoon/early evening appointment – I will be away until Thursday evening and Tuesday is also filling up quickly. I am in the very early stages of scouting accommodation and travel arrangements for Glasgow and very excitingly, a trip to Jersey, although those who remember the shenanigans in Aberdeen may know that this is another place where we ladies are decidedly unwelcome, and the practice I have already had in stealth and subterfuge will once again been called upon if the visit is to be uneventful in the good sense of the word. Bristol is also looking to be a resounding success, and I am likely to be fully booked before I set off, although there are always cancellations and enquiries are still very welcome, and I am looking forward to pastures new once again!
Whistle’s gone. Until next time…
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