Friday, 9 November 2012
Today began as another fun packed day for pensioner 79807305/ret'd. A trip to the Health Centre to give up another shot of my valuable blood. I arrived later than planned so was confronted by a room so full it made the Black Hole of Calcutta seem spacious.
There are big pictograms all over the place showing a mobile with a large "No Go" sign stamped over it, and the words "No Mobiles". Frankly I thought that was pretty clear. Most of the others waiting their turn to be pricked clearly understood that. They might be texting, playing games,tweeting but they weren't talking.
Except for one fattish, blond bleached, English arse of a woman (age 50 +) who was jabbering on the phone. I was a couple of rows from her and I heard all about the funeral arrangements (hers if she's not careful), about her not working, and how lovely Darren is. (No doubt some fatherless wastrel banged up in a borstal or Cage Fighting in Vietnam).
The people next to her quietly put up with her selfishness.
After visiting the phlebotomist, I popped down stairs to visit my favourite doctor - we just chat about the health service and he spent quite some time detailing the ins and outs of when he does and does not do private work. Fascinating. Most income appears to come from filling out medical certs for people who really don't need them.
With a cheery wave, I said goodbye and headed to a printer I knew was not far away. I'd been there a few weeks previously to get a quote for some business cards for the missus - except the sales person was on holiday. Frankly, looking at the shop and the single Victorian era press there, I was surprised they could afford to employ a sales person. So today I went back.
I was greeted by a very large and,I have to say, extremely badly printed sign saying "We've moved". Sure enough the printing press was not there and the place looked pretty vacant. There was a reassuring note saying that they were still contactable. I dialed the number given on the sign. Nothing. I hung on for an age; still nothing.
I then became aware of a phone ringing in sync with my call. It was coming from inside the empty shop! Ending the call confirmed my worst fears.
I was a bit put out by that - stupidity - and mentioned it to a group of painters who were doing up the shop next door which previously had been something useful but looked as if it was to be a pamper pooch nail bar. " Farrow and Ball?" I enquired. " You've gotta be jokin'" The ancient sell buy date on the tin confirmed that it wasn't top quality.
Undaunted I headed for British Home Stores. Frankly I don't like to admit shopping there but I needed some jimjams and they were the only place I could think of.
Male jimjams rank in the embarrassment stakes about as high as corsets or garter stockings. They are difficult to find - even more so when the floor staff fled to the four corners of the store when I attempted to locate the said garments.
I at last found them, sulking next to the socks, vests and Y fronts.
BhS have their up market label "Atlantic Bay" the equivalent of Asda's "Bay of Pigs" high end label. There on top of the display was a placard "Atlantic Bay 100% Cotton Pyjamas" - £22. I don't mind paying top dollar for something that's going to share my bed with me for a while so I looked around for them.
Could I find them? No. There were "100% Cotton Pyjamas" at £20, "Easy Care" at £16, but none at £22 . So I summoned a tall, spotty oik and quizzed him. I was told the placard was showing the wrong price - they were £22 a while back but they were now £20. Except they were reduced to £16. I suggested that three prices could be confusing, but he smiled and walked off.
As I approached the "Please Pay Here" point the three people there doing nothing just walked off. I had to be served by the oik.
The day improved after that as I managed to catch "Antiques Road Trip", with the delectable Catherine Southon.I don't know what it is about her, but she gets my blood flowing. After that and onto the computer where Nokia have helpfully told me that their Lumia 920 has arrived.
I was over the moon. This is what I'd be waiting for. I'm out of contract and have a SIM only monthly deal. I wanted to test drive the Nokia before I handed in my ancient (2 years old) Xperia.
I clicked through to find out where I could buy one. Nothing - just bloody 12 and 24 month contracts. A Nokia shop - nothing. Orange's (now renamed EEYORE) site is such a mess the only thing they want is for you to sign up to an over-priced, untested 4GEE contract.
So once again British business excels itself as being totally disconnected from reality.
I might ask the delightful Catherine if she'd take me on as an intern