I have worked myself up into a complete and utter tizz.
There is absolutely no reason for this, in fact, there are lots of reasons not to feel like this because we are having a night off and I am supposed to be feeling calm and contented and mellow and full of holiday.
Instead I am flapping like a St George’s flag on a council estate.
I have spent the day taking my car to have its new meter fitted. I think I told you I was going to do this, after yesterday’s meter-fitting failure debacle.
I had to go to Morecambe.
The new car got me there all right, or at least, it got me almost there.
There was a problem.
On setting off I attached my telephone to the in-car radio system, and instantly discovered a problem.
You cannot switch off the radio.
You have got a choice of listening to the radio or listening to your telephone’s mixture of Spotify or Audible stories, but listening to nothing is not an option. When you have got Spotify playing there is no Off button for that either. You can’t even pause it with the button on the telephone. You have got to have noise.
I jest not. When I got home Mark investigated the radio, and then, puzzled, looked it up on the mighty Internet, and indeed this is absolutely the case. Exactly like the telescreens in 1984, peace and quiet is not a possibility. You cannot turn it off.
You can turn the volume right down, but I did not know where I was going and so I had to link the radio to the satellite navigation program on my telephone, and had to leave the volume up so that I could hear it. I had to have music playing for the rest of the time. I liked the music, but it was still music that I did not want to hear. I do not at all like unnecessary noise, and after half an hour of driving I can tell you that I was considerably jangled.
Then things got worse.
My telephone is very elderly, and because it was linked to the radio and running hard, playing the unwanted music, it began to get hotter and hotter.
I was about three miles away from the meter-fitting place when it decided that it wouldn’t work any more. The radio came on instead and played music that I didn’t like, and I couldn’t switch it off.
I did not know where I was going. I could not telephone anybody and ask. The wonderful A-Z books that we used to have, which, you recall, usefully showed you where everything was in a town, no longer exist. I was on very busy roads, getting later and later, and not allowed to touch my telephone, but in the end I did. I thought I would risk the wrath of the Morecambe local constabulary, and held the telephone out of the window until eventually it cooled down. Then it played the music that I didn’t mind so much again, loudly.
I pulled over into somebody’s driveway, ignoring the honking horns, and tried to work things out, and eventually managed to get the wretched thing to show me a map. I looked at it hard and after an awful lot of scowling, managed to find my way to the meter fitter.
I had to leave the car there for two hours.
I went to sit in a cafe, where I had to purchase coffee. You have got to do this in cafes. Misfortunately I was already jangled, and a dose of caffeine did not help.
The accountant rang whilst I was in the cafe.
We have got to register for VAT.
I flapped and tried to sort this out. My hot telephone went flat. I couldn’t then pay the meter man because it was supposed to be a telephone payment and mine wasn’t working until I could cool it down and plug it in. I did this and he was very polite.
The car and I set off home.
It broke down on a busy dual carriageway.
I got it started again by faffing about with the battery. Mark says that there is a problem with the alternator and he will get a new one.
I drove it home very, very carefully, gritting my teeth and trying to ignore the dreadful radio.
When I got home I registered us for VAT. We have got to deregister again as well because I am in the middle of disentangling my activities from Mark’s and opening a new business account. This is all complicated, dull and difficult but will mean that we won’t need to pay VAT next year.
Then I ordered a new telephone. Mark says that tomorrow we will go to Halfords and get a new radio as well.
By the time I had finished I had got a headache. I have still got it now.
Oliver and the rocket scientist are doing things upstairs. Mark has taken the dogs and gone to the farm.
I am going to sit in my office very, very quietly for a while.
