Ye gods, what a day. Managed to have a bit of a lie-in and got up at 7.30am, hurrah. So an extra hour-and-a-quarter's kip, which I have seriously needed today. It was just a shame that the nasty plumber who's chasing Lord H for a Church Hall cheque which Lord H gave him two weeks ago rang at 8.45am and was generally rude. I swore at him, told him he should check his post more often and put the phone down. I then deleted the five equally rude messages the tosser has left during the week. In one's forties, one finds one has no qualms about being rude to idjits. Aha!
The rest of the day has involved a heck of a lot of travel, some visiting of the sick and a much-appreciated moment of genuine laughter with the Tesco car cleaning man. Anyway, to start at the beginning, I popped round to visit my sick Guildford friend at about 11am this morning. On the way there, I picked up (as requested by her) a prescription at Sainsbury's, and also took her some of my endless supply of Lucozade as she's not been eating much since last week. So far so good. Once there, I rang the bell. No answer. I then peered through the window but couldn't see anything. I then shouted through the letter-box, but reply came there none. At this point, I was panicking and imagining all sorts of scenarios involving Said Friend lying in desperate need in her house and me having to break down the door by willpower alone. So I rang her from the doorstep. This involved peering through my address book for her phone number as it wasn't on my mobile (it is now!). She answered - thank God! Apparently, she hadn't heard either the bell or the shouting as she'd been lying down on the sofa on her good ear. As you do.
So far so good. She then asked if I'd mind picking up three prescriptions which (for some reason) were at Tesco's rather than the nearby Sainsbury's. No problem. I pootled out to the car and drove to Tesco's. They'd never heard of the prescriptions. I rang my friend, who gave me her nurse's number. I rang the nurse. She was in a meeting. The receptionist said she'd get her out of the meeting and Said Nurse would ring me back. She did. What a nice woman. Apparently there'd been a communications muddle and I was actually supposed to pick up the prescriptions from the Surgery (near Sainsbury's) and then get them made out (at Tesco). She also gave me the number of the Surgery. I rang the Surgery to work out where they were (dyspraxia - it's not great for knowing things in your home town, you know!). I drove back to the surgery. The directions were fine - I only needed to go round the roundabouts twice before I worked it out. I rang my friend so she wouldn't worry about where I was. I picked up the prescriptions. I drove back to Tesco (eventually - after ending up at Sainsbury's first. Well the day is bloody confusing ...). The car cleaning man at Tesco asked if I'd like my car cleaned - I told him the dirt was in fact the only thing holding me together. His genuine and refreshing laugh made my day - thank you, sir. In the Tesco Pharmacy, they could only make out two of the prescriptions as the third one wasn't completed properly by the doctor. I rang the Surgery. They apologised. Said it would be ready at 3pm when the Doctor was back. The Pharmacy said they'd hold it for me. I picked up some strawberry yoghurts for my friend on the way out of the shop, as they're the only thing she can eat. Plus I added in a copy of the Radio Times and a Father's Day card for myself. Oh, and a sandwich too.
Back at my friend's (are you keeping up at the back? I do hope so ...), she fancied a yoghurt, so I opened them. Two of them regurgitated themselves over her kitchen floor. I wiped up the mess. Wiped down the remaining yoghurt pots. We had yoghurts. One of them contained, unbeknown to me, vanilla - which Said Friend hates. I threw away three of the twelve yoghurt pots containing vanilla. We chatted. We had Lucozade and tea. I tidied up, under instructions so at least stuff in the living room is in the right place now, and the pills are in the right order. What we so far had of them. I did some recycling and we chatted about the general adorability of Casey Affleck (hot stuff and Ben's brother, if you didn't know that).
At 2.50pm, I headed back to the doctor. I parked in their car-park where I ripped up my sandwich with my teeth and stuffed it into my mouth with the ferocity of a lion finding a kill after many months of starvation. The woman in the next car gave me a very stiff stare. I ignored her. I retrieved the new prescription from the Surgery receptionist. Thought about where I was going with it. Drove to Tesco. At the Pharmacy, they asked if I had photo ID as the prescription was for a controlled drug. I stared at them, using the stare of the woman in the Doctor's car-park. I gave them my non-photo ID. I continued to stare. They gave in and let me have the drug. On the way out, I bought 4 soft pink loo-rolls to restock my friend's dwindling supply. The man in the queue got snippety with me as he thought I'd pushed ahead of him. He should really have taken a bath before he left his house today. Sigh. I muttered under my breath at him. Hell, I feel I was entitled. He's probably lucky to be alive.
Back at Said Friend's, I delivered the goodies, conveyed love and stuff, and drove home. Where I arrived at 4pm, hurrah! Am currently feeling hugely shaky and rather more than tearful at the long and exhausting day off I've had, and at the long and exhausting day my poor friend has had too. What a palaver.
All of which is surely a vast and more than reasonable excuse for not doing any writing today. Though I was rather amused to see that the latest copy of Roundyhouse poetry magazine has arrived, with a copy of my comic poem, "Excuses For Not Writing", in it. Ye gods, I could have made it double the length if I'd known today would happen.
And I've just finished Robert Goddard's Sight Unseen. Load of old bollocks. Frankly. Well, it starts off well enough with an apparently good plot and a strong main character, but soon deteriorates into bad farce, frantic coincidences, total unbelievability and a sense of breathless desperation. Which is a shame, as Goddard is normally top-class. Is he on drugs? Or should he be? In which case, he only has to call me, as I know all the pharmacies in the area by now ... Really though, my advice is if you want to start with a Goddard, don't start here.
Oh, and the plumber has finally admitted - without apologies - that he's got the cheque. Reader, I deleted the bugger.
And tonight, I need to find some energy from somewhere, as Lord H and I are off to a "Birds at Twilight" event at Pulborough Brooks. Best get the dinner on pretty damn sharpish then.
Today's nice things:
1. The car-cleaning man
2. A published poem