Badger the Meter

As part of the monthly routine, most of you will understand this, I have to clamber downstairs, trundle round the back of the building, then clamber downstairs once more to the basement.  Once, this was easy, now it is a trial, especially when half way there I realised I had forgotten the paperwork to scribble down the numbers thereof!  Being an idiot is great most of the time but not always you realise. Anyway, down there amongst the ageing spiders webs, the litter blown in by various gales, the odd items dumped by lazy tenants moving on, and the occasional corpse, I found the meter where I had left it.  I scribbled down the numbers, pocketed the paper and pen, and began my ascent.

Eight steps may be few to you, but eight cramped aged steps, with that bit of wood at the bottom looking like it will move anytime, are beginning to worry me.  At least there was music.  The man in No 2 had a guitar CD blasting out, much to my pleasure, rather than the dross on offer most days in this world, and as I grabbed the sides and laboured myself up into the bright sunlight I realised that if I did get trapped down there he would not have heard my pleas.  I might have had to await his woman shutting him up before I could be rescued by Highway patrol.  There again they might just shut the door, fasten the bolt and forget me.  

Anyway, that aside I got out.

Walking slowly in the sunshine I noted how the efficient recycling is going.  One week recycling, next week paper and card.  This morning the boys have just grabbed the lot!  Why do we bother if the staff do not know what they are to do?  Who knows?  However, it has gone off to the piles of recycling lying hither and thither near the railway.  Very safe, unless it catches fire again. 

To revive myself after my trial, I opened a bottle of 'Badger Master Stoat'  'Coffee Stout.'  Very much Coffee stout indeed!  And very good it is too, I recommend this.  A half a pint of this and I'm anybody's today, as long as I can lie on the floor.  

The breweries tried to make us drink foul mass produced rubbish way back when, and this gave rise to many smaller and better breweries brewing proper and varied beers.  Some succeed, some fail, the thing to do is to try one occasionally.  With the prices thereon and taxed abundantly this means I will not become an alcoholic any time soon.  Not that I would, but such prices hinder this anyway.

So, I slowly recover and await the frozen fish in the oven warming up, then the weekend can begin...

Up and Down the Stairs

 

I awoke to fog this morning, I suppose I ought to have shut the window last night, and faced the day bravely with my eyes closed.  Having had to turn away a visitor yesterday because the place was in a mess, I had no choice but to clean today.  After a sparse breakfast of cereal and instant cappuccino I began to fall asleep again.  However, the need for bread, and being Friday a busy day, forced me to Sainsburys early.  Now last week folks were wandering around maskless, almost the majority cared not about masks.  Today, after stern warnings from Billy (I'm not responsible and I was not at the party) Bunter, concerning the latest virus all were forced to wear masks. As I was packing the bag and about to pay the lass had the temerity to ask me to lift the mask higher, I drop it as it steams up my glasses, I pretended not to hear, cashed the card, and headed home.  Masked people were all around and shocked I was to see this as many were happy to be unmasked only yesterday!  Do people really think the virus has gone away?  Did they not read about the sick in the NHS?  Do they trust the main stream media?  What is wrong with people?

What is wrong with me was the need to clean the loo, the kitchen and hoover, let alone the other things that required doing, next week.  Fair wore me out and it is not yet Christmas.

This has been a tiring week.  Several times a day I have been up and down the stairs, postman, deliveries for me, deliveries for next door, recycling out and having to explain to a white van man where he ought to be (a hundred yards that way), more deliveries, and up and down stairs.  Even a dodgy fellow with a tray of goodies seling things door to door.  This has happened before and I am still unsure if it is a con or not.  It reminded me of the various Indians that once brought dusters and pipe cleaners round the doors, mum always bought something from them.  Some of those men became millionaires, others estabished good shops and businesses.  I wonder what this lad was up to and where he will end up?  

My goods were not gifts, they were memory sticks.  I realised mine were, er, overloaded, and swapped things around with the new ones, only to find I needed more and more!  Then after they arrived I needed a colour ink for the printer so Amazon was back again, different driver, just as lost, and now I am determined not to spend anything more until after Christmas.

Oh, look at the books on the WOB website...