Madrid is back on. We leave on Friday and I’m back on Monday while Mirinda will be back after speaking at her conference. The organisers insisted that she be there. So, I quickly saw to flights being booked, hotel organised and poodles booked into the kennel. Just what I need, another holiday to a city starting with the letter ‘M’.
For ages now I’ve been waiting for a mortgage statement to arrive. Apparently, the finance company had some sort of issue getting them in the post on time but they swore, it would arrive by yesterday. When the postie failed to deliver it, I was, understandably a bit upset.
I decided to give them another call. Seriously, why can’t these things be sent electronically? In order to call them, I found last year’s statement in order to have the account number to hand. That was when I noticed a crucial bit of information. The old statement was sent to the flat at Canary Wharf. Suddenly it all made sense.
I quickly texted Mirinda, asking her to stay at the flat last night so she could pick it up for me. Her return text adamantly stated she was already on the train. Fast forward to this morning and I was up at 6am in order to go into London to get it.
The concreting, which was due to happen today, was the vicitm of miss-communication and is now scheduled to happen on Monday. This meant I could go up this morning rather than on Sunday.
The train into town was pretty empty and delightfully quiet. Likewise, the Tube to Canary Wharf was sparsely populated with only ten women, eight of whom were doing their make up.
This marks, possibly the first time I’ve caught the Tube to Canary Wharf before 9am so I’m not used to seeing this sort of dressing table action. It was all very serious. I am amazed at how they can apply mascara on a moving Tube train without poking themselves in the eye.
At the flat, I delved into the mail basket and found the statement almost immediately. I then started back to the Tube. In all, I was there for five minutes, four of which were spent in the toilet.
The trip back took a bit longer as I spotted a French Navy minesweeper docked at West India Dock and just had to get a photo of it. This probably explains why I missed the 10am train back home by about 30 seconds. While this was irritating and meant I had to wait another half an hour, it was fortuitous to some degree because I discovered that the Bagel Factory has returned to Waterloo.
The Bagel Factory has always been a favourite. It used to be a big wagon, parked opposite Costa on the concourse and then, when the building started, it vanished. And now that the building has finished, it has reappeared in it’s own little shop opposite WH Smith. My tastebuds leapt for joy (never a pleasant feeling) as I rushed to order my favourite; smoked salmon, cream cheese and cracked pepper on a poppy seed bagel. What a superb breakfast!
My tummy happily content, I boarded the train home, watching another episode of The Walking Dead on my tablet. I’m loving the tablet! Thank you, Bob.
Almost home, I had a text from Mirinda suggesting she pick me up and we head over to a fireplace shop outside Guildford…which we did.
We are looking at getting some sort of feature fireplace for the extension. The current thinking is a wood effect gas fire and we saw some pretty amazing models at the fireplace shop. We were helped by a particularly vivacious shop assistant who seemed to disarm the usually guarded Mirinda. We left with an armful of brochures. (We could build a library with the amount of brochures we have accumulated.)
We then had lunch in Farnham (Maison Blanc because everywhere else was full) before shopping and heading back to the house.
The rest of the day was spent with Mirinda trying to design the furniture for the extension without making the flat screen TV the focal point and me organising flights and hotels.
Oh, and I scanned and emailed the mortgage statement.