Obviously we have volunteered in answer to the Government’s plea for people to join the NHS.
I don’t think they are likely to give us anything interesting to do, which is a bit disappointing, because I really like the idea of having a go at keyhole surgery or perhaps amputations. I would even settle for being allowed to give injections and put in drips and do that electric shock thing with the paddles. It can’t be that difficult, because the person who did my last blood test was a complete muppet, and she still had a licence to stick needles in people. I am quite sure I could manage to do a reasonable job if I concentrated. After all, my sister can do it, and she is five years younger than me. With my wealth of accumulated age and experience I am sure it will be fine.
At the very least it will be a new look at the world, and it isn’t as if we were working or anything. We are completely and utterly unemployed at the moment, since the civilised world collapsed in on itself.
I confess that I am getting to like this very much indeed, especially in the glorious sunshine.
I am not usually especially keen on volunteering for things, I usually view other people’s projects through a dark veil of suspicion, but I am beginning to feel uncomfortably guilty that people are dashing about rescuing the world from crisis whilst I am loafing about in our new conservatory, drinking wine.
Please do not worry that the guilt is spoiling the wine and the loafing. It isn’t. All the same, if the dear old Chancellor comes up with a rescue package for unemployed pirates then really we ought to do something to earn it.
In fact I have spent practically the whole day ambling about in the conservatory, with piano jazz tinkling quietly in the background, and the sunshine warm on my shoulders. I like it very much, especially the beautiful new colour scheme.
Number One Daughter called and pointed out crossly that it was going to be her problem to try and sell it to somebody when I am dead. Fortunately I will be dead and not care, but I was secretly very glad that it will not be me who will have to try and blot it all out underneath a coat of magnolia. It is very orange indeed. Mark wondered if I might like to get some purple to go with it, but I didn’t. I have been caught out with that one before. I know that purple and orange do not look good together from previous home-decoration experience. My new shelves are all cornflower blue. That looks lovely.
I have made the most terrible conservatory-related mistake already. This was not because of the colour scheme. This was that weeks and weeks ago, when we still lived in a world with money, we bought some new lights to hang in it. They are beautiful lights, with a fan on them and a lovely mushroom-shaped glass lampshade.
Mark assembled one a couple of months ago, but decided that it needed some adjustment, and did not finish putting it together. He left it hanging, unfinished, whilst he got round to making a new mounting for it, and left the box on the side in the kitchen.
After a few weeks of this, I threw the box away.
I did not know that the mushroom-shaped lampshade was still inside it.
I am quite sure that I did this, although I have no recollection of it at all. It must have been me, because Mark never, ever tidies anything up, and although I can’t imagine that I would have thrown a box like that away without looking inside it, or even wondering why it was heavier than it should be, it would appear that this is what I have done.
Mark has been very patient about it and hardly said anything at all. Sometimes I wish he was less restrained. There is something irritatingly virtuous about a tight-lipped patient person. He said, nobly, that there was no good crying over spilt milk, and that we would have to do something else.
I agreed, and fortunately managed to find another one on eBay which I ordered on the spot. I hope it turns up soon. Every time I look at the incomplete light fitting I am overwhelmed with guilt.
Have a picture of some Permitted Exercise.
