Today was supposed to be the day our new washing machine arrived. The old one removed and the new one installed. It was supposed to happen this morning, between 10am and 12am. Because of this, I didn’t go shopping first thing, delaying my departure until after the machine was happily ensconced in the laundry.
Half an hour before arrival, the delivery guys rang me to let me know it was on its way. This was at 8am. The chap on the phone asked if I’d disconnected and drained the old machine. I had no idea I had to do this, I said. He said he wouldn’t be able to remove the old one if I didn’t do this. I told him to not deliver the new one.
Then, very soon afterwards, I was called by a woman at the delivery company HQ. She was very good, explaining that it was a good thing I refused the delivery because otherwise we’d be left with two washing machines. She said she’d reschedule delivery on a day when I had disconnected and drained the old one.
The thing is, the people I bought the machine from, a company I’ve used before with great success, hadn’t told me I had to disconnect and drain the old one. Obviously I’d have done that yesterday in preparation. I wrote them a scathing email of dissatisfaction.
I then went shopping.
There’s a woman I’ve not seen for a while in the park. I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned her before. She takes in rescue dogs and helps them to socialise and get over whatever trauma they’ve been through in their short, four legged lives.
I used to see her quite often pre-pandemic but haven’t seen her since our return from Sweden. Then, this morning, there she was.
I asked her how she was, as you do, and she told me that she’d only just got over being run down by a car. I was shocked. I told her so. She said she had no memory of the actual accident because of head trauma. She’d suffered a fractured cheek, fractured ribs and multiple fractures to her left leg. She’d been laid up for over a year.
She used to walk her dogs twice a day but was then, suddenly, reduced to none. I assume she had someone else walk them while she couldn’t.
As we parted ways at the top of Bear Lane, I told her to look both ways when crossing the road. She agreed that she would.
It really put Jay’s complaint into perspective when I reached Starbucks. He said he really wished he had some earplugs. The parents had arrived for their morning yell fest having dropped the kids off at school. To be fair to Jay, they were incredibly loud this morning.
He was so annoyed, it affected his latte art, making it all spiky.
He said it was exactly how it felt inside his head. I’m glad to say it didn’t affect the latte, which was perfect.
On the opposite side of the emotional scale was the man who didn’t walk properly.
I’ve seen him almost every time I walk into town since we returned from Sweden. He always says good morning and smiles and I return his greeting. He looks to be about my age and seems a nice fellow. Today we exchanged more than the useal greeting.
He commented on how he thinks my walking is improving. I thanked him, dubiously, and he told me the story of his walking.
Walking had been painful for him all of his life. He didn’t do it very often, preferring to drive or just sit at home. For him, every step was painful. He hated it. Then, about a year ago, he saw a specialist who, having examined his gait, declared that he was walking wrong.
The specialist then taught the man to walk properly. And he has been walking with joy ever since. He was well pleased with himself, and so he should be. Learning to walk properly after almost a lifetime is no mean feet!
And speaking of happy things, here’s a very late blooming rose from the Crazy Bed of our garden.
And just to finish, the man that the PM had a meal with following his frantic fuel heavy jet flight back from Glasgow the other day was Charles Moore. He sounds a thoroughly unpleasant chap and clearly one of the reasons the planet is in such a mess.
Here’s everything that’s wrong with the current British government in one Wikipedia entry.