Tuesday, 30 March 2010

Forward planning

Today I forgot my lunch.
I also forgot (although less of an obvious oversight, given the weather) sunglasses, which would have been useful for some of the day, and an umbrella, which would have been useful for the other half.
I forgot that couscous is not ideal when eaten with a fork at the best of times, but especially when eaten with a fork over your keyboard while perched on an inappropriately-sized Ikea barstool at a worktop the incorrect height.
I forgot those Creme Eggs under the till were there for Easter Egg Hunt purposes, and not for general desultory staff consumption.
I also forgot that there is NO WAY to eat one quickly and furtively between dealing with customer enquiries, and the best a prospective bookbuyer can expect is for the staff member eating one (yes, that would be me) to panic, glance around frantically for somewhere to put half-eaten egg, fail as eggs traditionally don't stand on their ends, shove the whole thing into their mouth at once and end up communicating through a mixture of sign language and scribbled notes.
I forgot that accidentally chewing a piece of garish Creme Egg tinfoil can cause a nasty shock to your fillings.
I forgot that Converse Allstars are delightful footwear except when it rains, when they are frankly as useful as a blotting paper hat.
But I did get paid today, and tomorrow I will forget that whenever I spend more than 25p at a time my bank feels impelled to phone me and check my card hasn't been stolen by international racketeers.

Wednesday, 10 March 2010

Quite extraordinary

Day off, and having just been out to get milk I am reclining on the sofa pretending to watch PMQ, although actually I'm reading. Phone rings. Against my better judgement I answer it, because while it's 99% likely to be a telemarketer, there's a 1% chance it might be someone I actually want to talk to.

Her: Hello, is that Mrs Fishwife?

Me: Speaking.

Her: This is the West London Carpet Cleaning Company - do you need any carpets or upholstery cleaning?

Me: No, thank you.

Her: Thank you for your time.

Me: Not at all.


I'm now starting to think I may have imagined it.

In a similar vein, I went to the bank with a Canadian bank draft (long story) to deposit - I took NOT ONLY my passport BUT ALSO my marriage certificate as the draft was made out to my maiden name. After several depressing attempts at this in the past ("Canadian dollars? I din know they had dollars!"), I was all prepared to argue the point that YES it was dated August 09 but NO it hadn't expired as it was a draft, see, it says draft here, not a cheque, and drafts don't expire, yes, that is me, here's my passport, blardy bla bla.

Lovely young Mr Gandhi of the Banco de Abbey Santander Nacionalista de Londres took one look, filled out a form, took two photocopies, et voila.

I am now back on the sofa dazedly watching something or other and wondering if I went to sleep last night and woke up in a parallel universe where everybody is helpful, efficient and polite. Obviously I will now have jinxed it, and Mr Ocado ("he will be delivering in the Courgette Van!!!") will spill a full bottle of fabric conditioner on the carpet and tread some cat food into it, snarl, punch me and steal the TV. Oh well.

An update: AND AND AND Mr Ocado was an hour early!!!!!! And (of course) charming. Although I'm always slightly disappointed that the Courgette Van (or Lemon, or Strawberry) isn't actually shaped like any of those things. Can't have everything...