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If only we’d remembered the name “Tweedy” we would have won the quiz again last night. As it is, we missed out by a half point. Of course, the same goes for “The Chair” at Aintree, but there you go. Still, it’s another roll over, so the much-reduced jackpot is growing again. Perhaps we’ll win it next week?
Once again I find myself unimpressed by ParcelFarce Force. They tried to deliver a parcel from Play.com yesterday – Furtle’s Christmas pressie, in fact (no, I’m not saying what it is) – and of course there was no-one in. They have not offered to redeliver, they have simply delivered it to a post office e for me to collect. That in itself is fair enough, as we have a post office a couple of minutes’ walk down the High Road.
But they didn’t leave it there.
That’s okay; a little further down the High Road is the local post office sorting and distribution office.
But they didn’t leave it there, either.
No, Parcel Farce took it to Finchley. Now that’s not miles away, but it does mean that I am going to have to troll down to North Finchley tomorrow morning on my gammy leg and pick up a reasonably bulky parcel and then man-handle it back to Whetstone. To be fair, this is only an issue because my knee is so painful at the moment, but I do like to grumble.
Talking of gammy knees, I have finally bought a support bandage for it (though application will have to wait until I get home) and some Deep Heat, which I have just nipped into the Little Civil Servant’s Room and applied to miraculously immediate effect. I can now toast crumpets on my knee and there is a pleasantly over-powering smell of menthol about my desk, which I am pretending does not exist, and which everyone else, being truly English, is ignoring. The leg still twinges, but I managed an entire forty paces back to my desk with a cup of coffee without limping extravagantly as I have done on and off for the past couple of weeks.
I tried Deep Heat at home last night before we went out to the quiz. I was surprised that it was a) so runny and b) clear. I recall it as being white and pasty, not unlike the knee to which I was applying it. It stank merrily and did not produce the expected eponymous effect. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised; as Furtle announced after inspecting the tube rather more closely than I, the expiry date was February 1999. And here was me thinking Deep Heat was immortal.
Once again I find myself unimpressed by Parcel
But they didn’t leave it there.
That’s okay; a little further down the High Road is the local post office sorting and distribution office.
But they didn’t leave it there, either.
No, Parcel Farce took it to Finchley. Now that’s not miles away, but it does mean that I am going to have to troll down to North Finchley tomorrow morning on my gammy leg and pick up a reasonably bulky parcel and then man-handle it back to Whetstone. To be fair, this is only an issue because my knee is so painful at the moment, but I do like to grumble.
Talking of gammy knees, I have finally bought a support bandage for it (though application will have to wait until I get home) and some Deep Heat, which I have just nipped into the Little Civil Servant’s Room and applied to miraculously immediate effect. I can now toast crumpets on my knee and there is a pleasantly over-powering smell of menthol about my desk, which I am pretending does not exist, and which everyone else, being truly English, is ignoring. The leg still twinges, but I managed an entire forty paces back to my desk with a cup of coffee without limping extravagantly as I have done on and off for the past couple of weeks.
I tried Deep Heat at home last night before we went out to the quiz. I was surprised that it was a) so runny and b) clear. I recall it as being white and pasty, not unlike the knee to which I was applying it. It stank merrily and did not produce the expected eponymous effect. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised; as Furtle announced after inspecting the tube rather more closely than I, the expiry date was February 1999. And here was me thinking Deep Heat was immortal.
