As I was walking up the High Street of the town in which I live I overheard a young man tell his female companion, "But your National Insurance number has three sixes in it." Nothing to do with Hallowe'en, I hope.
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Barbatus sed non barbarus -
A ring at the front door bell.
"Would you mind taking a parcel in for Flat 12?"
"That'll be fine - they're friends of mine".
"Just sign here - on this window; your finger will do - and I have to take a photo of your front door".
"Really?? Oh, OK then".
"Ha ha ha ha - they'll like that one, back at the office!"
Only afterwards do I realise that my shirt collar had been pointing upwards into my chin, like an old-fashioned wing collar, because the door bell had caught me just at the point of putting a tie on. A moment later, she's back!
"Would you mind also taking in a parcel for Flat 8?"
"No, I'm sorry; I don't know the people in Flat 8".
Can you believe it? The same delivery firm (different delivery person this time) came round this afternoon, with the same package for the same flat! See, people take advantage. I'm the one who has to transfer the plastic carrier bags from the recycling to the non-recyclables bins. Maybe the gods pre-allocated my fate to one of being merely of convenience to others. I just happen to be in here more of the time than other flat holders, because I am retired. The number of times the delivery person says they're leaving a note in the intended recipient's letterbox saying whom they've left a package with is almost equal to the number of times I've either had to take the flipping parcel round, because they've not bothered to come and collect it, or received barely any word of thanks in return when so doing. Sometimes I've looked after other people's deliveries for days, not having any idea what the item might be, or if it is perishable - sometimes half blocking my entrance. My attitude has now reached a point where in the case of certain tenants I will just not take stuff in, as they're always not in when it comes. Either they shouldn't order stuff online when they can't be in to receive it, or they should do what people have done ever since shopping centres were invented, and keep some USDAW member in a reasonably paid, hopefully not overworked job.
Rant over...Comment
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Just now:
"Welcome to St Sprees. We have reduced offers on smoked joints..."
Actually, It was smoked gammon joints: I just liked the proximate association of "smoked" with "joints", not to mention any topical recycling inferences, of which my favourite - and this is for real, is: "Recycled toilet paper".
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Post deleted as it wasn't relevant to Christmas.Last edited by Lat-Literal; 24-12-17, 20:10.Comment
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This one hopefully is of seasonal pertinence, because when in wishing the charming French lady on the check-out at St Sprees a happy New Year I took the liberty of planting an innocent kiss on her right cheek, she said, "Oh, only one kiss then, not as we do in France", adding, "It will be a good one, this year, I am sure of it!" To which I said, "You mean better than last year then?" and she said, "Well preciselee; after all, eet could not be worse now, could eet?"Originally posted by Lat-Literal View PostComment
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Doing that in France, unless invited to by the lady, would land you in a lot of trouble. There are conventions. After 7 years as a regular luncher I have just graduated to a bonne année and a handshake from Madame who owns the restaurant. Nothing further was expected, even in the absence of Mme. M..Originally posted by Serial_Apologist View PostComment
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Don't get me started on that. In my previous residence I lived in the front ground floor flat of a typical Berlin apartment building, and of course I work at home a lot. Sometimes our hallway looked like a sorting office, but a lot smaller and more cramped. I took to peering out of the window and not answering the door to anyone from a parcel company, which resulted of course in my own deliveries often having to be picked up from elsewhere.Originally posted by Serial_Apologist View PostComment
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Today I thought I might be suffering a stroke. On returning from the shops my vision suddenly went all skewiff and the kitchen seemed to spin, leaving me leaning against the work surface feeling rather nauseous and in shock. It turned out that one of the lenses had dropped out of my spectacles!
On a nearby street sign which reads "Lover's Grove", someone had planted the letter "p" over the second "v", in thick black marker pen!
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Glad your ok SA! I had a great time with friends last night and going back there this morning for one of our jamming sessions!Don’t cry for me
I go where music was born
J S Bach 1685-1750Comment
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We have a new Samsung combined washing machine and drier (Tarleton Towers being too small for separate tumble drier). It plays Die Forelle at the end of its wash (or drying) cycles.Comment
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Originally posted by Richard Tarleton View Post
(apart from the small Pedants Corner matter of your machine being a drier, or a dryer!)Comment
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Originally posted by Serial_Apologist View Post
(apart from the small Pedants Corner matter of your machine being a drier, or a dryer!)
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I'm sure there's a joke about wet fly or dry in there somewhere, Richard, but I suspect you wouldn't approve of either.Originally posted by Richard Tarleton View PostComment
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.. something decidedly fishy going on here.
Tho' for Die Forelle I suspect a dishwasher to be a better bet than a washing machine -
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