On the blower

Contrary to anything anyone else says, I hate talking on the phone (except to Mirinda). I have always hated it. When email then texting was invented they were, I feel, for people like me. I rather like the ‘paper trail’ as well but, basically, I hate talking on the phone.

So, today was a bit of a surprise given I spent vast swathes of it on the phone.

First up there was my semi-regular call to Mike, the wine guy. He teaches me a lot about wine and continually tempts me to buy some lovely libations from the vineyards of the Old World. He also sells me far too much because his prices are so good. As a bit of a treat, I let him twist my arm into buying a bottle of 30 year old Bordeaux. Apparently, 1990 was a fabulous year for grapes in Southern France.

I reckon Mike could talk for hours if I didn’t drop the guillotine. Also, there’s only so much wine we can store. It’s not like we have a cellar. The red walnut cupboard is not THAT big.

As I was talking to Mike, I had a call from Mirinda who I then had to call back. She was in the middle of two things: a Skype call with Fi and a minor flood in the kitchen. She was calling me about the flood. I called the plumber.

Collin is a fantastic plumber. He’s been to the flat a few times to fix problems and, as luck would have it, has just returned from holiday and was free to go to the flat in the early afternoon. Which he did. Or, rather, his son did.

The water leakage was because the outflow from the washing machine had slipped out of the waste pipe and was just freely hosing the kitchen tiles via the under sink cupboard. It was a bit fiddly but it was fixed quite quickly and everything returned to normal.

There were a few phone calls back and forth but it was all sorted relatively painlessly.

Then, after lunch and our regular park visit, I had a long conversation with Robin, a chap who has been interviewing a lot of the Surrey volunteers. It’s for an evaluation for the Heritage Lottery Fund so they can see what sort of impact their funding has had.

Robin had a big mass meeting with the majority of the volunteers at the centre last week but, of course, I was in Italy so we had a phone meeting planned for this afternoon.

And he seems like a lovely chap. We talked for over an hour on my thoughts and experiences working on the project. All good, obviously. I finished off by saying how much I’ll miss it when the project comes to an end.

Then, blow me down, just as I was dishing up dinner the landline rings. It’s Tony asking if I could do an emergency FATN swap for tomorrow. Normally I’m happy to but we’re off to the theatre tomorrow so I will not be available. Hopefully Tony will find someone else.

In the park

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