I read an article just the other day which suggested that undue stress in middle age brings on Alzheimers. Sad to say, one way or another this week has been a stinker and so I am probably toast. I was just about to tuck into a relaxed breakfast of bacon and eggs at 9.30am last Sunday when the phone rang. Jimmy had had a puncture and was stuck on the hard shoulder of a motorway. Quite why I am even thinking of sending on her own to Australia or North East Thailand I don’t know. She had pretty much no idea where she was. She wasn’t even sure what road she was on though she thought it might be the M11. But where on the M11? Not a clue. So I jumped in the car and headed south in what I guessed would be her general direction eventually, after an hour or so, spotting her sitting in the sun on the bank of the northbound carriage not far from Harlow, stubbing out a cigarette when she clocked me in the Landcruiser on the other side of the motorway. So I looped round, changed the tyre, drove in convoy to a Kwik-Fit and delivered her ( while they identified that the tyre was beyond repair having been driven for several miles whilst flat ) to Ely Cathedral where she was supposed to be working. I’m beginning to bore you. Suffice to say by the time I got home the whole exercise had taken 4.5 hours.
Then on Monday morning I sensed something was amiss when I tried to board my connecting train from Tottenham Hale to L’Pool St only to find my way blocked by a man lying on the carriage floor intermittently swearing like a trooper and complaining that he couldn’t breathe with a woman sitting on his back and two men pinning down his arms. Now, as you know, I spend a lot of time myself on a campaign against fare-dodgers, but even I thought this was taking it a bit far. And if that wasn’t excitement enough, when we finally got to London and I was scampering my way to the office along Old Broad Street a white van and a bus screeched to a stop alongside me. Both men jumped out and there was much argy bargy with yours truly futilely, albeit somewhat half-heartedly, trying to calm them down. When I discovered that white van man had spat at the bus driver I must admit I beat a hasty retreat and, remarkably, made it to the morning meeting just in time.
And a stressful week inevitably has to include Hen, somewhere along the line. Very fortuitously, friends of ours are opening a smart new restaurant in the neighbouring village, and were looking for waitresses. Hen needs the money and has waitressed before. Couldn’t be easier. Shoe in really. She went to a training session on Wednesday which seemed to go ok, but yesterday evening resigned in a fit of pique before she was even offered a job. Something to do with being told, belatedly, that she should have taken her nail varnish off. This was a bit disappointing. I have mentioned to you the various indications that she is getting her act together. She even sent me a message yesterday morning asking me if I could lay my hands on a 2013 diary for her. OK…so we are well into the 4th quarter of the year, but this was still a decent sign I felt. Seems we have taken a slight step backwards though.
Anyway all that is just the tip of the iceberg. It has been a gruelling week, and telling you about even just a few of my various woes isn’t helping relieve me to be honest. I feel if I carry on I may not remember how to get home and I really want to see Sunshine on Leith this evening.
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