Sunday, 11 October 2009

Quiet Weekend

After the washing machine fiasco The GR made me promise him a quiet weekend. No interruptions, no people popping round, no bad news. I had strict orders that by the time he returned from work on Friday we should have working electrics and the promised notice letter from the property management agency. I started with the electrics, a kindly electrician diagnosed a wet junction box and recommended a week to let it dry out. He rigged up temporary wiring for the sitting room, running from the kitchen so that we could watch TV and work on our computers, while we waited to see whether the floor boards needed to come up! Next I emailed the property agency threatening to turn up at the office in the afternoon if I didn’t receive a reply. I got a reply of sorts saying, there were no plans as of yet for the scheme to go ahead and that they’d let us know with ample time before building works started. I doctored it to say 3 months time to put The GR’s mind at ease, or he’d be impossible to live with, with his worrying. So on my head be it, if the give us 5 days notice. Satisfied with my work, I went to leave the flat to get some nice food for the  weekend, and what was waiting on the doorstep. An envelope from the Belle Mere addressed to The GR. The first contact in 3 months. Can’t he even have a weekend I thought to myself, well, yes he can, I’m hiding it and putting it back on the doorstep on Tuesday morning, after he’s had the award ceremony he’s been looking forward to on Monday night.

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‘They tuck you up your mum and dad...’
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‘Come on Dover move your bloomin’ arse’.
Eliza Doolittle