I think I may have found a decent book to read. I like the author Thomas H Cook, who has nothing to do with booking a holiday, and have read various of his books. I have just started to read his book Red Leaves. He writes quite dark books and this seems to carry on it that genre. It is returning my brain to normal and restoring my faith in writing. I am also dipping in and out of this book.
The plumber was due on Thursday, but it seems that he can’t make it now. Rather then tearing my hair out, I just feel kind of pleasantly surprised that he was polite enough to phone me so far in advance to tell me and arrange another appointment. It’s all about perspective I guess. He’s coming on Monday morning now. I am actually off work several times over the next couple of weeks to get various things sorted out, so I am hopeful that things will get sorted. Not only the plumbing, but also the burglar alarm installed, the sofa delivered and so on and so on… I shall slowly chip away at my leave in the hope that maybe one day I will carry less than one leave year forward.
My neighbour came round last night for a chat, which basically involved her asking me how to plumb in a washing machine, how to hang a curtain rail, how to fix security lights on the outside of the property, what she should do about a cheque that hasn’t been cashed and various other things, none of which are an area of expertise for me, but I managed to sound as though I vaguely knew what I was talking about, but my advice mainly involved suggesting that she paid someone to sort it out for her. We also discussed extending our leases. I think the plan is that I get my solicitor to write first and then my neighbour will get hers to write and hopefully we will manage to get the agreement of the freeholder to extend our leases soon (-ish. I’m not expecting miracles).
Anyway, I shall leave you with an important question to ponder. You can file this in the “be prepared” category and if you ever do end up stranded, you’ll be glad that you thought about it in advance. If you were stranded on a desert island, which five people would you eat first?
2 comments:
This joke I received from my joke source today sort of relates to you question, made me smile ;-) TF
On a group of beautiful deserted islands in the middle of nowhere, the following people are suddenly stranded by, as you might expect, a
shipwreck:
2 Italian men & 1 Italian woman
2 French men & 1 French woman
2 German men & 1 German woman
2 Greek men & 1 Greek woman
2 English men & 1 English woman
2 Bulgarian men & 1 Bulgarian woman
2 Japanese men & 1 Japanese woman
2 Chinese men & 1 Chinese woman
2 American men & 1 American woman
2 Irish men & 1 Irish woman
One month later on these same absolutely stunning deserted islands in the middle of nowhere, the following things have occurred:
One Italian man killed the other Italian man for the Italian woman.
The two French men & the French woman are living happily together in a menage-a-trois.
The two German men have a strict weekly schedule of alternating
visits with the German woman.
The two Greek men are sleeping with each other & the Greek woman is cleaning & cooking for them.
The two English men are waiting for someone to introduce them to the English woman.
The two Bulgarian men took one long look at the endless ocean, &
another long look at the Bulgarian woman, & started swimming.
The two Japanese men have faxed Tokyo & are awaiting instructions.
The two Chinese men have set up a pharmacy, an off licence, a
restaurant & a laundry & have got the woman pregnant in order to
supply employees for their stores.
The two American men are contemplating the virtues of suicide because the American woman keeps endlessly complaining about her body; the true nature of feminism; how she can do everything they can do; the
necessity of fulfilment; the equal division of household chores; how
sand & palm trees make her look fat; how her last boyfriend respected her opinion & treated her nicer than they do; how her relationship with her mother is improving & how at least the taxes are low & it isn't raining.
The two Irish men have divided the island into North & South & set up
a distillery. They do not remember if sex is in the picture because
it gets sort of foggy after the first few litres of coconut whisky.
But they're satisfied because at least the English aren't having any
fun!
Ah, there's all those desert island politics that need to be dealt with. They should have just picked the weakest and eaten them...
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