Travails.

As I turned in I noticed two postmen I knew, good men and true, one on his bike heading out bearing that constant smile on his face, a smile that makes us wonder what he had been inhaling, and the other who appeared to all purposes now to work in this office.  I took my ticket and collected the note detailing my winnings.  The money amount was clearly marked at the top and as I glanced at the £24,000 there I noticed to my surprise the other prizes also.  Two weeks in some sunny rich man's playground far away, a week elsewhere, and other lesser but quite welcome prizes.  It was then I noticed the prize money was in fact £200,000!  Much better and as I began to work out where I could get a wee house for that amount I turned towards the desk to claim the winnings when I heard John Humphreys muttering banalities on the 'Today' programme muttering about the time.
"Drat! Not even got my head of the pillow and already I have lost £200,000!"
So I entered Tuesday in the manner in which I intended to continue, as so it proved.  The day was dominated by another ex-US hurricane which were supposed to flood us out, knock down all the trees and high buildings and cause mayhem everywhere.  Indeed in places this was the case but it does appear we now err on the side of safety and urge warnings a wee bit too keenly I reckon. The use of common sense by the populace is lessening.  
I persevered.  Slowly I went through the routine, slowly I ate, slowly I ignored the news, slowly it dawned on me that I was watching the clock say ten minutes past ten.  "Ah, I can get ready at half past I thought.
Suddenly the fog lifted, I was supposed to start at ten and it was ten past already!
Dementia has begin folks.
I faced the struggle to the museum bravely even though driving rain threatened to wash me away as I limped up the road.  It stopped once I arrived and remained quiet until I came home!  
Busy as we were, fixing those little things that needed fixing, cutting thinsg that needed cutting and sellotaping things that should not have been cut, dealing with lots of visitors, including in fact one real dementia patient and her escort - what a sad sight that was - discovering a school class was quietly wrecking the joint and another event was on today so that much of the day was taken up with others running around daft for that.  This left me alone much of the time and luckily nothing demanding occurred.  I also took delivery of large old books, for myself, which I bought (cheap) from a colleague which then required lugging home.  Lots of heavy reading lies ahead.  I made two trips and collected the rest today.  How heavy can a book be I wondered?   My arms now reach my knees. At least our own book is now in stock and should be on sale today.
On top of this my knees ache and carrying heavy bags does not help.  Having got two lots home, up the stairs, and onto the floor I then lay beside them gasping for breath and demanding oxygen from whoever heard my groans.
No reply came the reply!
The fog over the mind all day was so bad that even though I attempted to watch two football matches I could hardly concentrate on the first, it just tired me out, and the second failed so badly I actually had to switch it off and sleep.
That reminds, me I must buy some brandy....

Today began without losing vast amounts of money, and the £150 million is still available in the lottery if I buy a ticket.  Instead of dreaming of wealth beyond my wildest dreams I hobbled all the way to the Post Office, waited while the man in the steel helmet, visor and armoured outfit delivered the new stamps, and then I posted three expensive packets.  Tripping over my own feet on the way back I wondered why those men never smile?  Is it part of the training to look tough in case the old women in the shop attack you?  So far when meeting such men they give the impression of being soul dead. Rarely do they look the type you would employ let alone trust with valuables.  I suspect most are recruited from ex-prisoners. 
I limped to the museum, collected my remaining heavy books and asked if the girls there could help by massaging my knees for me.  They flung me out the door somewhat rudely and left me to collect myself and climb back over the wee wall from the garden bit where I landed and attempt to make my way home. This proved difficult as today's Victorian school arrived like a stampede of Buffalo and ran over me once again.
As I climbed the stairs thanks were offered for bits of me still working.

Then came the painters.  Limited in their work by the rain nothing has been done for a week, one being afraid to climb the ladder in the high wind yesterday in case it blew him off, the big Jessie!  I see no reason for this as he has already fallen off one so must be used to it.  Today, as the rain ceased they glossed the bottom windows and following his success of leaving my living room window jammed for five years jammed the bedroom one!  Much later, we both struggled after he had released the window from his six inches of paint and attempted to get the thing to shut again!  He almost fell off his ladder that time, but I changed my mind and didn't push!  Sash windows can be difficult, especially when he is around.  This pair also involved me with clambering up and down stairs to assist lost motorists find places when their map failed to include the one way systems.  I also had to convey tea to the workers. 'Workers' is a word used loosely around these parts. They have not finished and have been called away to other jobs.  They might be back by February.  My windows are open, downstairs remain jammed!


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