Ooof!
I'm collapsed in front of (the remains of) my computer. Its memory is failing (you do not have sufficient memory to keep your computer switched on, windows will assist you in your computer using experience by switching the dratted thing off - there you are, mission accomplished. Now what task would you like to do nex.... )
New computer (HAL) is arriving on Monday afternoon - the bunting is ready, the band is prepped.
Today I went to pay a bill. I got out of the car and as I stood up, the wind tore the cheque from my hand, whirling it up into the wet and drizzly pitch black of a late October evening. This wasn't a cheque which I could cancel, being from a savings account; it represented real, irreplacable cash to the tune of several hundred pounds. Standing in a dark country lane in deepest darkest Warwickshire I felt like weeping.
I went into the office and paid in cash (meant for my 'new' van) and came out in misery to give up and go home. The wind was gusting, then dropping, with no consistent direction, and street lights don't exist on narrow English country lanes. My friend and chauffeur was having none of it; she drove at walking pace behind me so that I could walk up and down a mile of that lane several times. Then we drove slowly together twice. I went off down a track to check out something flapping but it was a Macdonalds wrapper. We had been searching for over an hour by now and I really, really wanted to go home, stick my head under a pillow and howl long and hard.
Reaching the car, which was parked with headlights on, I heard a shout from across the road. My friend had found the cheque - I will never quite believe on such a wild night in pitch darkness that she managed it, but I've held it and seen the proof - soooooo relieved.
So, the chauffeur & the 'new' van - I have been wheel-deprived for a couple of months now, and it has made life almost impossible much of the time. I am finally able to search for a replacement and another very good friend asked her husband and his buddy to look for dog-friendly vans. First one was sold by the time I rang up. Second seemed OK when I rang last week, and we arranged for the chaps to visit tonight to view and secure it for me if it seemed suitable. I gave them a deposit this afternoon and off they went in the (aforementioned) wet and windy night.
They checked the van over, and it seemed good, so they called me to see if I still wanted it - I was by now scrutinising shadowy blades of grass, at risk of being run over and half-demented with misery. "Yes please" I answered, thinking that at least acquiring a van would moderate the torment of this so-awful evening.
I/we found the cheque. Friend and I danced a joyful dance in the wind, with cheque clutched FIRMLY in my paws. Mobile phone rings. "Sorry, the seller doesn't want to sell any more".
(Cover your ears)
AAAAAAUUUUUUGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!
So. I have cheque. I have adrenalin and misery pumping round my body. I have NO van. I think overall this evening was a success... but I can't quite be sure. And I have this terrible desire to laugh but it might turn manic. I'll let you know about the van search, but I'm currently on the way home via Birmingham New Street train station, where hundreds of people are milling about, signs are saying "All services suspended due to widespread disruption", rail staff have no clue about what is happening, and the tannoy is contradicting itself at each announcement.
I'm staying on this platform; I've just seen several familiar but flushed faces belonging to poor fools who've actually been following the tannoy instructions. I wonder if somewhere there's a close circuit TV with a bored tannoy announcer passing the time before her/his shift ends...
New computer (HAL) is arriving on Monday afternoon - the bunting is ready, the band is prepped.
Today I went to pay a bill. I got out of the car and as I stood up, the wind tore the cheque from my hand, whirling it up into the wet and drizzly pitch black of a late October evening. This wasn't a cheque which I could cancel, being from a savings account; it represented real, irreplacable cash to the tune of several hundred pounds. Standing in a dark country lane in deepest darkest Warwickshire I felt like weeping.
I went into the office and paid in cash (meant for my 'new' van) and came out in misery to give up and go home. The wind was gusting, then dropping, with no consistent direction, and street lights don't exist on narrow English country lanes. My friend and chauffeur was having none of it; she drove at walking pace behind me so that I could walk up and down a mile of that lane several times. Then we drove slowly together twice. I went off down a track to check out something flapping but it was a Macdonalds wrapper. We had been searching for over an hour by now and I really, really wanted to go home, stick my head under a pillow and howl long and hard.
Reaching the car, which was parked with headlights on, I heard a shout from across the road. My friend had found the cheque - I will never quite believe on such a wild night in pitch darkness that she managed it, but I've held it and seen the proof - soooooo relieved.
So, the chauffeur & the 'new' van - I have been wheel-deprived for a couple of months now, and it has made life almost impossible much of the time. I am finally able to search for a replacement and another very good friend asked her husband and his buddy to look for dog-friendly vans. First one was sold by the time I rang up. Second seemed OK when I rang last week, and we arranged for the chaps to visit tonight to view and secure it for me if it seemed suitable. I gave them a deposit this afternoon and off they went in the (aforementioned) wet and windy night.
They checked the van over, and it seemed good, so they called me to see if I still wanted it - I was by now scrutinising shadowy blades of grass, at risk of being run over and half-demented with misery. "Yes please" I answered, thinking that at least acquiring a van would moderate the torment of this so-awful evening.
I/we found the cheque. Friend and I danced a joyful dance in the wind, with cheque clutched FIRMLY in my paws. Mobile phone rings. "Sorry, the seller doesn't want to sell any more".
(Cover your ears)
AAAAAAUUUUUUGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!
So. I have cheque. I have adrenalin and misery pumping round my body. I have NO van. I think overall this evening was a success... but I can't quite be sure. And I have this terrible desire to laugh but it might turn manic. I'll let you know about the van search, but I'm currently on the way home via Birmingham New Street train station, where hundreds of people are milling about, signs are saying "All services suspended due to widespread disruption", rail staff have no clue about what is happening, and the tannoy is contradicting itself at each announcement.
I'm staying on this platform; I've just seen several familiar but flushed faces belonging to poor fools who've actually been following the tannoy instructions. I wonder if somewhere there's a close circuit TV with a bored tannoy announcer passing the time before her/his shift ends...