Lumberjack

First thing this morning, I had to scan a document and then email it to a woman at the bank. We both had to sign it and I’d managed to remember to get Mirinda to sign it last night.

All was well. I scanned it and was about to send it when I thought I’d better check that the scan had worked. I opened the pdf file and suddenly realised I hadn’t signed it, so triumphant was I in getting Mirinda to.

I quickly signed it, rescanned it then sent it off, giving silent thanks to whatever of the fairy folk had decided to make me look at it. Obviously it wasn’t one of the pixies that live in our stick pile because they’re far too malicious.

Having successfully managed to not make myself look like an idiot, I went to the shed and grabbed a few weapons of wood destruction. In order to clear down the side of the house, I have to relocate Mirinda’s potting table.

The only place I could think to put it (at short notice) was down by the compost and burn bins. Unfortunately, right where I wanted it to go, there was a tree. Clearly, this renegade beech tree had to go.

All I’ll say about it is that I’m seriously going to ache in the morning.

Having felled the beast, I then struggled the table and various bits of potting paraphernalia, into place. This left me just enough time for a much needed shower before I had to head off for the Talking Newspaper.

Today was an Alton edition and, struggling against tiredness, I attacked it with my usual cheer and lunacy.

Reading with me today, I had Prudence. She is a lovely lady with an incredibly dry sense of humour. Sadly, her body is letting her down. Her legs and feet are slowly making her life a misery. To get into the studio, one has to negotiate three steps up, two steps down then one, final step up. Prudence always needs a hand to move through these steps, and while she remains good humoured through it, she clearly hates it.

“This place isn’t designed for me!” She declares.

But when she sits down and starts to read, you’d never know there was anything wrong with her.

Each time I see her, she tells me how she’ll have to stop reading soon. It’ll be a sad day indeed when she finally hangs up her stick. I know I’ll miss her acerbic wit and delightful voice.

We had the deaf sound engineer looking after us and, as usual, he told us all what a delightful session it had been. I think he might say this to everyone but it’s still quite pleasant to hear.

We had a new listener to announce this week (Ethel) so, in order to make her feel part of the FATN ‘family’, I made sure to mention her every now and then, when I reached the sports report, I dedicated it to her. I do this whenever we have a new listener, which, sadly, isn’t often. As Mirinda said, it’s surprising there isn’t a lot more each week.

Sadly, a lot of people still don’t know about our service. We leave brochures everywhere, have regular articles in the paper and often stand on street corners wearing tabards, but it’s still difficult.

Anyway, the edition was completed and I headed out, into the dark evening, for home. At least the rain stopped for a bit and I reached home drier than I’ve been for a while…stupid weather.