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Norwhag Cathedral dominates the city centre skyline, as seen from the third floor of the multi-storey car park opposite the orifice.
Stubby shows her contempt for me. Yes, it’s blurry – I wasn’t intending to take her photo until she started gesticulating.
All-Bran Crunchy Oat Bakes. Well, they’re clearly NOT ALL BRAN then, are they?
Grunt.
Laboratoires Garnier’s ad which claims that ingredient x protects hair before it’s washed. HOW? TIME TRAVELLING ENZYMES?
Bliar.
Burger King’s “showroom” ad.
Grunt.
Inept spammers who insist on quoting one of my domain names instead of their own stupid spammy stupid site.
Grunt.
Back to the Woolwich today where PBD came good with a handful of cheques (although not the big one, of course) which have been duly banked while I decide what to do with them.
I took a surprise diversion on my way home (on the grounds that I’d not intended to do so when I’d set off). I parked outside a certain house, said “Hello, pussy” to a certain pussy cat who was sitting outside and approached a certain door. I pushed a certain doorbell and a certain young lady, clearly surprised, answered the door and invited me in.
“So what brings you this way?”, she asked me.
“You do. I’ve not seen you all week and was wondering how you were.”
The plan was that at this point she would suddenly realise how lovely I am and would throw herself into my arms, etc., etc.
Next time I really should make more realistic plans.
“So what did you do last weekend after all?”
“Slept, mostly.”
“And this weekend? Don’t worry, I won’t be here.”
She has stuff to do but is free on Sunday. Isn’t that just typical?
“What like?”
Sigh. “Ok.”
Do I blether innocently or do I just give him the information he’s so desperately craving? I decide to get rid of him. I give him an update (although I must have “accidently” forgotten about the life assurance – strange that, eh?) He doesn’t sound happy with my news.
Good.
I wonder whether he’s unhappy enough to start legal proceedings. I do hope so.
“Hello, Mr P______.”
“Hello. Gosh, it’s been a while.”
“Yes, almost two years.”
His office is, I swear, almost as untidy as my house but, to my amazement, he knew exactly in which pile of papers he needed to look for my file and happily handed over the original the Woolwich need.
…
I was making good time, as a result, so – having announced that I’d be in late – I popped in to the Woolwich.
“I’ve got the original you asked for.” I announced to PBD.
“Excellent,” she smiled. “Now, do you have two forms of ID with you?”
“No. You didn’t mention that on Monday.”
“Oh. Didn’t I? Sorry. I’ll take copies of what you have got, though, so you don’t have to bring them back again.”
Off she tottered with the originals and returned a little while later with the copies to datestamp and write “originals seen” before laying the documents on the counter in front of me.
PBD looked at me, wondering why I hadn’t picked up the papers and left.
“The life policy?”
“Yes?”
“You were going to investigate the procedure for claiming?”
“Oh.” Her face fell. I’d pushed her too far. “I’ll have to ask my manager.” She picked up the papers and tottered off again, returning with her boss in tow.
“If you can take a seat I’ll just make a few callls for you,” he smiled. “It won’t take long.”
I sat. True to his word he was back in no time.
“Um. Do you know your mother’s date of birth?”
“Of course, but why would you need that?”
“To verify policy details.”
“Oh, I see,” I smiled, and gave him my mother’s date of birth. Off he went but, not surprisingly he was back in no time.
“Would you like my wife’s date of birth now?”
“Ah. Yes.”
That’ll teach you to assume, won’t it? I thought to myself. I gave him Diana’s date of birth and he went off again to rue on his elementary error. He was soon back,
“Sorry, but I need your previous address.”
This was getting to be fun. I gave him the address on the paperwork I’d found which was, after all, our previous address. He looked puzzled and glanced down at the paperwork in his hand.
“Would you like the one before that?” He nodded.
Eventually the information was duly obtained and he handed me the paperwork with the address to which I must write. Off I went to work.
A little later I drafted the letter noticing that the manager had handed me all the paperwork. Including their copies. You’ve got to laugh.
…
A lunch date with Shazza again today and yet another new venue – there are so many eateries near the new orifice I suspect it’ll be a while before we have to start repeating.
En route we passed a poster from a hairdresser outside the art college asking for models.
“That’s where I go.”, Shazza mentioned.
“Oh, do you model? You could.”
She laughed. “… is the right answer.”
“If only you didn’t have such a strong hatred of being photographed.”
“Ah, yes. Maybe I’d be better on the other side of the lens.” Hmm. I’ve had an idea once Splodger’s back from his time off (and has returned the Kyocera).
Badminton tonight for the first time in years. Apart from a couple of games while I was in Perth, it must be 20 years since I played fairly regularly (picking opponents with care, eh your Eminence?).
About a dozen of us from work hired three courts at the UEA and I ended up playing four and a bit games.
I am exhausted. Absolutely shattered. Can’t wait until next week …
It was just before noon when Shazza appeared at my desk.
“Stubby and I were wondering if you’d like to come to lunch with us.”
Both of them? Eek! I had visions of tough questioning along the lines of ‘Which one of us do you like, then?’ Fortunately, I had the perfect response: “Sorry, but I need to go and get some shoes for tonight’s badminton.”
“Ooh, me too.” chipped in Tall Andy.
“Oh, ok.”, Shazza replied and left.
“She looked genuinely disappointed!” Tall Andy remarked (sounding amazed)
“The pair of them together, though? Don’t you think that could have been, um, awkward?”
He laughed.
He laughed again when, having bought the shoes, we headed off to Harry’s Place to get myself a nice granary roll.
As I ordered, Andy asked me to get some cans of drink, so I did so.
“Wud you like a carrrriurr baaaag?” asked the young lady in broad Norfolk.
“No thanks,” I replied without thinking. “We’ve already got carrrriurr baaaags.”
Tall Andy collapsed with laughter, the other customers turned to stare at me and I don’t think the young lady was too amused either. I didn’t mean to be cruel but I think my lapse may have been misinterpreted. I won’t be going back there for a while, I suspect.
