Thursday, November 23, 2006

I am so pissed off, we’ve got electricians in at work and the sound of drilling is constant. It’s vibrating the floor, the walls and bouncing off the ceiling. I keep finding myself subconsciously gritting my teeth. You can’t think straight or hear what someone on the phone is saying. And they say woman can talk – these two constantly shout down the corridor at each other. All that drilling must have made them deaf. One of them stuck his head round my door a few minutes ago and said: ‘Any chance of a cuppa, love.”

To which I replied “Yes, help yourself, the kitchen’s back there.”

I’m not in the mood to be the hostess with the mostest – so they can just bugger off and leave me in peace.

++++

Dilys had me in absolute stitches yesterday at work telling me about her Saturday night. She and her husband had joined a wine tasting group - The Wine Island Tasters Society who had arranged a wine tasting and supper night – they knew the man who ran the group, but he wouldn’t be there – not a problem they’d soon make friends.

She knew it was in Wolverly so they pulled up out side the village hall and followed a couple in. When they got to the door they were asked for their tickets. She hadn’t been sent any tickets – but she explained to the man on the door that she had posted the cheque for £12.00 last Tuesday to a gentleman called John.

The man turns around and shouts over to John – who then comes over. Where do you live? He asks. Kidderminster, said Dilys. John thinks for a few moments – he couldn’t remember sending any tickets to Kidderminster. Never mind, come on in and they’ll sort it out later.

So in they went, right past the supper table – which looked very appetizing and sat down. Dilys’ husband starts chatting to the man to the side of him, explaining that they have only just joined, it’s their first time and don’t know anyone yet.

Five minutes later George notices people standing around a table – must be where the wine is – off he goes and comes back with a glass of wine and a soft drink. He’s had to pay for them, he tells Dilys, he thought the wine was in with the price of the ticket. Well, maybe they’ve changed their minds – look they got a live band on stage – they must have decided on entertainment instead, Dilys replies.

Nearly half an hour had passed, the room was filling up and the little clues are starting to drop into place – Dilys say’s to George, I think we might be in the worry place, go and asked the man on the door if this is the wine tasting evening. I’m not going, say’s George (Typical man – quick enough to the bar, but won’t ask directions). So Dilys goes herself, only to find that it’s not the wine tasters - they’re over in the church hall tonight – but a Barn Dance. Just like it says on the poster on the wall behind him, the man points out – with the words Sold Out across the front – the very one she read on the way in, which she’d totally ignored.

Dilys and George make a hasty escape and make their way to the Church Hall, where they ask if this is the group that does the wine tasting. That’s right, say’s the man – We’re the TWITS. Good, says Dilys, because you’ve got to more!

++++

I am now extremely worried, I came home from work to discovery that Matthew had cleaned his room – really cleaned his room. There is nothing on the floor, under the bed, on the top of the wardrobes or even stuffed in the bottom of the wardrobes. All this clothes have been put away or are downstairs in the washing machine – which he’s also turned on. He’s even dusted and hoovered.

I’m racking my brains as to what he’s done wrong – it must be really bad. Or even worse, maybe he’s thinking of inviting a girl back home when we’re not there. God, who wants to be mother to a teenager with rampant hormones!

++++

Nice rainbow here this morning - I was in an altogether happier mood at that point.

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