17April1997

17 April 1997
My dear folks,

I have done lots of things today but not many of the things I’d planned to do. The day started badly, with a persistent buzzing sound interrupting my deepest dreams at what turned out to be 0745. It was the man who’d come to mend the washing machine downstairs. I couldn’t complain too loudly since I’d been out the last time he called. So I staggered downstairs & let him in & staggered back upstairs & awaited his advice on the problem. Turned out that the machine needed lots of new parts. The previous tenants had worn it to a frazzle. They will have to be ordered & installed at some future point.

Since I couldn’t get back to sleep, I staggered downstairs a second time, turned on a telly election discussion & I set about ironing the shirts that had been piling up steadily. The election discussion tried even my patience. I enjoy following the daily developments but the liturgical exchange of accusations & denials – & the point blank refusal of the candidates to answer questions with a yes or no – drives me to distraction. I’m aware that the public holds journalists in the same low esteem as it holds politicians. God, are we such a low form of life? I suppose that if you judge by the tabloids, we are. Anyhow I got the shirts done & then set out on foot to the bank, health shop, fruiterer, and dry-cleaner. I think you know that tune well enough by now. I paused in the stationers to inspect - & purchase – a couple of computer mags.

Another ring at the door proved to come from the electricity meter reader, come to check the meters in the hall. He was clutching an appliance that took a reading straight off the meter, which I thought was very clever. He had a good moan though because it seems that as a full time employee, he’s only allowed to read the landlord’s meter (for the common parts of the house). His bosses have determined that it’s cheaper for part time meter readers to come around & read the other three meters for the individual flats. Thus our man goes from house to house reading a single meter & ignoring all the others. No wonder he’s pissed off. Every now & then I get singular insights into why some workforces would dearly love to cast management into boiling oil & I had one such this a.m.

It was once again the loveliest of days. I’d picked up a couple more plants during my Maida tour & I stuck them into the bleaker pots & troughs. My new climber is going great guns, much to my satisfaction, as I’d broken off a couple of the shoots while planting it & trying to train it up the trellis. Which reminds me, Jones. The forecasts show ominous black clouds heading for Iberia. It’s going to be a wet weekend down there. You’d better make plans to hold any reception indoors.

After an hour long scrutiny of the computer mags, I decided that I’d take a look at the third of 4 computer manufacturers whose models I’m interested in, Dan. They’re situated 30 mins away but the location proved both wretchedly difficult to find & equally difficult to find a way out of….in the middle of a small industrial estate surrounded by ring-roads. I got lost in both directions. But the hour I spent there was a satisfying one & I think I might well opt for one of the their models. I dealt with a crisp salesman who had a full quote waiting on the fax by the time I got home. There are all sorts of options one can go for & I’d asked him to price several of them either in or out.

I’ve sworn to get my correspondence baskets in order this evening & to do a quick vacuum. I work tomorrow & I’m off to the quinta on Saturday. So I’ll leave you in peace for the next week, probably.

Blessings
T