I had a surprising experience today.
I had a quiet half an hour before Lucy got up this morning. I thought that I would have a look on eBay, to see if anybody was selling a beautiful china soap dispenser with flowers on it, because I would just like one of those.
I clicked on my home page. I have not looked at this for a while, and to my mystification, and some concern, it was absolutely full of very peculiar products, all of which were shaped like gentlemen’s anatomy.
Some of them were most peculiar. One of them featured some Cadbury’s Creme Eggs, and another a man with a tall pink balaclava.
I gawped at them all for a moment, and was rather glad that Lucy was not up.
I could not understand what they were doing there, and thought I should investigate.
A few moments’ search explained that eBay had remembered that we had, some time ago, saved a search for Willis & Gambier kitchen chairs. This was actually several years ago and we had long since bought some, but nevertheless eBay had helpfully kept our preferences to the fore in case we ever needed some more.
What that search now revealed was lots of products shaped like willies, which had been put on eBay by people who could not spell.
I am now stuck with this on my eBay for ever unless I can work out how to tell eBay that I have got plenty of kitchen chairs, and will they please stop sending me pictures of mis-spelled inflatable oddities.
Sometimes life can be quite unexpected.
I am at work now, and it is very quiet. I have been pondering a different problem, which is that I think that the fuse box on my taxi is getting water in it.
On wet nights I am surprised every now and again, when the rear windscreen wiper comes on completely unexpectedly. I thought for ages that was knocking something, or inadvertently pressing some unnoticed hidden button, but eventually realised that I was not.
It is loud enough to drown out conversation, especially over masks and the clanking of the engine. Water squirts all over the screen and the wiper sloshes about for ages. Well, it did slosh about. It has done it so often now that the screen wash tank is empty and now it just scrapes, squeakily, across the back window.
Fortunately it only does it on wet nights.
I had been intending to get Mark to fix this, but there doesn’t seem to be any point now, since our beloved leader has decreed that I am going to be unemployed again after next Wednesday.
I am torn about this. I like being unemployed very much indeed. It will mean I have got lots of time to get things done. We will be able to eat dinners that don’t come between two slices of bread, and there are the pleasures of alcohol to remember. We have not done any wine drinking for ages, and I would very much like to do it again.
The problem is that unemployment does not pay very well. Mark will not be unemployed, because he and Number One Son-In-Law will still be working on the house. I do not know if any rural broadband will happen, but at least there will be the building work.
We heard last night that it was going to happen, and they went out today to buy everything that they thought they would need over the next few weeks. Building supplies are one of the things that run low when the world is told that it must stop doing everything. Now they can get on and do tiling and wiring and plumbing, and not be worried if
I am quite sure that we will manage all right, and of course the unemployment bit will be splendid. It is not doing Mark any good to be working all day and then coming out to drive a taxi at nights. He does not mind doing it but he is always tired. We sat down for a glass of wine with Lucy after work last night, and he was asleep in the chair almost before he had finished the first mouthful.
It will be splendid for him just to work during the daytime. Another spell of enforced imprisonment might turn out to be a complete blessing.
He went off to work today, leaving me with Lucy, which was splendid, because we don’t see very much of one another these days.
We emptied the dogs and hung up the washing, and then I took advantage of having some youthful muscle idling about the house, and we went into the village to buy a sack of flour. Windermere has the most magnificent cash and carry, where you can buy everything that the big hotels use in their cooking. I had been worrying about flour, until eventually I realised that there was lots of it, right on the doorstep.
We bought one each. I am now quite contented, because no matter what slings and arrows outrageous Boris chucks at us, I know I can continue to make sandwiches.
Not that we will need them any more.
Have a picture of Windermere.
