Friday fail and a boogie in Bognor
My phone and broadband both decided not to work today. Spent three hours this morning on the line to people and finding old phones to test the lines etc. BT sent a man around in the afternoon, who took over an hour to fix the phone, but not the broadband. Another day largely wasted. This sort of thing makes my blood boil, and at one point I did have to sit down and have a word with myself. Having to unpick an infuriating feeling that I am meeting with blocks and checks at every step, and instead channel my irritation into cleaning up the house.
Broke off to do shopping, and buy more envelopes, a large joint (of beef) herbs etc.
In the evening off with Lorraine to her work Christmas party in Bognor. A big drive away, so no boozing for Lorriane. Mercifully this ban did not apply to me, as it was a subdued affair in a hotel room, lit by bright cold lights and enlivened by Fawlty Towers service. It was a rather sober well behaved affair, with lots of the county's senior educational folks forking at grey Brussels and drinking lightly. Except for one, who had found a water pistol in his Christmas cracker and, aiming at the pleasant woman sitting next to me, missed and squirted me full in the side of the head.
Later there was also a disco run by two taciturn youths who played utterly inappropriate music for their audience, until told off in a teacherly manner. They then resentfully put on the execrable I'm in the mood for dancing by The Nolans, which astonishingly got the party started. They then managed skillfully to avoid good tunes thereafter. Having attended to several rum and cokes, and despite having a ropey knee at the moment, I eventually got my, um, freak on dancing with the lovely Lorraine until the call of the Brighton seagull grew too much for her.
As we left a large fox loped over the lawn of the hotel.
My phone and broadband both decided not to work today. Spent three hours this morning on the line to people and finding old phones to test the lines etc. BT sent a man around in the afternoon, who took over an hour to fix the phone, but not the broadband. Another day largely wasted. This sort of thing makes my blood boil, and at one point I did have to sit down and have a word with myself. Having to unpick an infuriating feeling that I am meeting with blocks and checks at every step, and instead channel my irritation into cleaning up the house.
Broke off to do shopping, and buy more envelopes, a large joint (of beef) herbs etc.
In the evening off with Lorraine to her work Christmas party in Bognor. A big drive away, so no boozing for Lorriane. Mercifully this ban did not apply to me, as it was a subdued affair in a hotel room, lit by bright cold lights and enlivened by Fawlty Towers service. It was a rather sober well behaved affair, with lots of the county's senior educational folks forking at grey Brussels and drinking lightly. Except for one, who had found a water pistol in his Christmas cracker and, aiming at the pleasant woman sitting next to me, missed and squirted me full in the side of the head.
Later there was also a disco run by two taciturn youths who played utterly inappropriate music for their audience, until told off in a teacherly manner. They then resentfully put on the execrable I'm in the mood for dancing by The Nolans, which astonishingly got the party started. They then managed skillfully to avoid good tunes thereafter. Having attended to several rum and cokes, and despite having a ropey knee at the moment, I eventually got my, um, freak on dancing with the lovely Lorraine until the call of the Brighton seagull grew too much for her.
As we left a large fox loped over the lawn of the hotel.
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