The Fool on the Hill

Phew, what a week already and it's only Wednesday.

It started with a whimper on Monday: Tom, one of the two old ladies, went off to the vet - not on her own! we took her. For a blood test prior to having some of her teeth removed. She'd been complaining about toothache for a while and at her recent check up the vet discovered a number of decaying molars.

It is very draining capturing a cat, putting them in a cage and running them to the vets. It's even more distressing when the dear little puppet looks lovingly into you eyes and you betray her trust and affection by slamming the lid of the cage on her.

On the way to the vets in the back of the car a piteous sound accused us of hurt and betrayal. She was in and out in no time and a pawful of blood went off to the lab to be analysed.

On Tuesday morning the same procedure: betrayal, love, hurt and feeling beastly. Lid slammed shut, wailing and gnashing of healthy teeth and handing her over to the safe keeping of the vet.

"She's going under the knife" I chirped wanting to lightened the doom laden atmosphere in the waiting room. My attempt at levity was greeted by silence and then a cacophony of barks and meows, plus the occasional "There, there pet, don't take any notice of the horrible man."

Chauffeuring a distraught misses back home and making sure she set off to her workroom to earn an honest crust, I headed for Sainsbury's to carry out the vital weekly shop.

Having left the carefully prepared shopping list at home, I was pleased to note that I was able to remember at least one of the items recorded therein. The shopping, whilst it lacked accuracy, was interesting, reflecting my particular tastes and prejudices in food, cleaning materials and drink.

And thence to the allotment - to water, and pick masses of elderflower and the first pickings of our broad beans, and  a dozen strawberries. I arrived home to find the missus already opening the bottle of gin I'd purchased in the morning.

The vet had phoned and all was well so we set off to pick up the patient. They poured honey words into our ears about how wonderful and sweet she had been: a perfect lady in fact. Not doubt hoping I wouldn't notice the £393 bill: and then there's the follow up. In the last two months we've spent £1000 on vet bills. Ah well you can't take it with you -but to be able to try might be fun.

The little darling arrived home and promptly eat 2 days of food in one sitting. well she had been on a starvation diet for more than 24 hours. While Tom was stuffing her face I was shovelling  my supper into my mouth as fast as I could  so I could make the AGM of the Walthamstow Allotment Association.

I needn't have bothered. It started at 8 and finished at 8:30. I'd been misled, I thought we were going to discuss the Council's plan for abrogating all responsibility for their allotments. I was keen to draw up defence plans, brief top lawyers and encamp outside the Council's offices.  None of it. The most exciting the meeting got was when someone asked about the charities we supported - I dozed off so I'm afraid can't report on that fascinating discussion.

Today saw me e-mail the Council about a couple of loose man hole covers in the main road at the end of our street. We do this on a regular basis just to keep them up to the mark. I also phoned Majestic Wines.

I have to admit to a slight tendency to paranoia. A while back I sent off my old mobile phone to Orange who had promised me the magnificant sum of £61 for it - not to be sniffed at at a time of hype vet bill inflation. Last week when nothing had arrived I e-mailed them to ask when I'd expect to see the dosh. It had already been sent a week or so ago I was told. Since I said I hadn't received it they were going to stop the cheque already issued and send me a new one.Still nothing.

Eight days ago I placed an on line order with Majestic Wines. I received a confirming e-mail and looked forward to an early call from my local store to say they'd be delivering in the next day or two. Nothing, other than a terse message on the answer phone confirming the order. Days went by, still not a word. They guarantee delivery within 8 days so I thought they might be having difficulty sourcing the exceptional wines I had chosen.

After 5 or 6 days paranoia set in. Our house is 6 Milton Road, there is also a 6 Milton Court in the road and for ages we'd receive their mail and we'd dutifully take it up to the address and post it. But no longer after I received car insurance documentation addressed to the occupant of 6 Milton Court. I e-mailed the insurance agents telling them in no uncertain terms what I thought of our postman and their records.

Had they got my wine delivery, had they got my Orange cheque? This morning before I rang Majestic I ran through a whole conversation starting with "But we delivered your wine last week"...and ending with "I can prove you didn't deliver it, I'm e-mailing you a photograph of our house and it's nothing like the one you said you delivered to!"

Instead the conversation went something like this. "Hallo, I'm phoning about the order I placed with you eight days ago which I haven't received. I had a confirmation e-mail and a message left on my answerphone confirming the order..." "And arranging a delivery time", the voice at the other end cut in.I replied no. "That was no problem we'll deliver this afternoon between 1 and 3pm is that o.k." The wine arrived at 1:10 pm.

I replayed the voice mail message. It was truncated. Majestic had said that they'd received the order..that much was caught on the answer phone, but the important bit asking me to phone them back to arrange a deliver time was not picked up. The phone had taken upon itself to cut them off in mid sentence.  

No conspiracy then, just technology messing up my mind.

This evening we're storming the Town Hall. There's a much delayed planning application from the Universal Church of the Kingdom of God to convert our only remaining cinema into a evangelical church.

We hope to blow the Church's application to kingdom come.