Fuddled

You may have noticed that I have acquired a co-author.

This is because Gordonstoun occasionally requires that its inhabitants do some form of diary record keeping and accounts of their adventures, and we thought that this might be most fun if we could all share it.

Certainly I would be pleased to have a reason to read my diary. I think I might like to have something other than the BBC News page to look at when I want some shocking online thrills.

We are going to try to arrange for him to have a bit of the site of his own, so that there is a separate page listing all of Oliver’s adventures. This might happen or not. If not, just keep an eye open for his entries. They will at least have the merit of describing some actually interesting events.

This page does not have very many events at all in its content today. Somehow I just do not seem to have been able to get my act together. I have had an ineffectual day filled with lots of different sorts of time-consuming nothing.

It was supposed to be our magnificent day off. We did not have to go to any sort of work for the whole day. Tomorrow Mark goes back to installing rural broadband after having an idle bank holiday only driving a taxi and not doing any sort of actual work at all, but today was a holiday. It was our special day of just doing nice things.

Instead of this I have been sleepy and fuddled. I don’t think I have managed to do a single nice thing all day.

We got up earlier than we wanted to, because of the postman and PPI callers and the world, which was no longer on holiday, waking us up. We should not really have paid the world any attention, because we did not go to bed until six o’ clock this morning.

In consequence I was tired. I did some washing and went to the bank and paid off our overdraft. I went to Sainsbury’s for the shopping, and then, because I am sleepy and fuddled, I had to go back again for the things I had forgotten.

I sewed some last name tapes on things and argued, grumpily, with some idiots who have given me a parking ticket for waiting in Lucy’s work car park for ten minutes at half past four in the morning. It was a worthwhile argument because they decided not to issue the parking charge after all. This was fortunate because I am in the very tired and grumpy frame of mind where I could easily have put some dog poo in an envelope with the cheque and posted it to them, just to make a point, but in the end I didn’t have to.

All the same, I would still rather have been doing something nice.

Mark built a flower bed in the conservatory. This qualifies as being nice, certainly it will when it is full of banana trees. I would be very pleased indeed about this if I were not so tired. Instead, because I am weary and cross, it is just another grudging tick on the list of things that should have been done ages ago.

Really I must try and be a sunnier sort of person.

I bought a new washing machine for Lucy’s rabbit hutch, she will have to put it under her bed I expect.

It is not exactly a new washing machine, actually it was on eBay being sold by somebody in Blackpool. We got it for the magnificent bid of £19, which came in just under budget, so I bought her a scrubbing brush with the change, in case the washing machine is not brilliant. I expect it will be marvellous, though. What could possibly go wrong?

In the end we realised that it was evening, and all activities must stop. This was when I took the photograph, which is why it is rubbish, obviously it was dark. It is a picture of a flower bed. Please ignore the silver foil insulation sheet propped inside it. Mark wants to keep this for one of the walls, and I would already have thrown it away if the tip were not such a long way off.

The flower bed will be lovely, though.

I am tired of drifting about being half-awake and cross with the world. I am going to go to bed and have a nicer day tomorrow. Sleep is a really important thing. It seems like a massive waste of time until you have not had enough.

Then its absence is like pouring grey paint all over everything in your life.