So many different things happen in a day and I thought I would try recording one. What follows was a recent, probably typical Monday
First, after doing the early morning chores and putting the wheelie bins out for collection (the contents not the bins) I popped down to the local shops ... and got confused over a credit card’s pin number. It wasn’t my fault, you understand.
* I had been asked to make a purchase with Joe’s card, which I share but don’t use, and that transaction was successfully carried out.
* Then I went to the supermarket where I would use a different card, again belonging to Joe, which I share and do use. The card has the same pin number but I kept telling myself that the second purchase was mine which prompted me to think I was using MY card and MY number.
* I nearly died when the machine rejected it on the grounds that the number was incorrect. How embarrassing!
* I apologised to the assistant and offered cash, all the time wondering what the hell I had done wrong. I did mutter something about being muddled ... which I was. Muddled and mystified. It’s all down to age, you know.
Returned home to cook dinner, or you may know that meal as lunch. It was a fry-up, bacon, egg, tomato and mushrooms, with chips.
Afterwards, crockery safely deposited in the dishwasher, I decided to drive to town, leave the car in the car park, and have a look round the stores. It was hot, sultry and dark. I felt a storm coming on but I was wrong. The main store in the shopping precinct was stifling and I could have sworn their heating was on full blast. I had gone in looking for something to buy and found nothing so I left. A swimsuit would have been a good purchase in that heat.
In another fairly large stationery store I hunted for red Bic pens. I couldn’t find any but I did spot loads more colouring books. That particular hobby was featured on television again and I saw the actual book they were advertising. Of course, I couldn’t resist buying it – along with a few more colouring pencils, felt tip pens and pencil sharpeners. I was on the way out when I noticed the red Bic pens. They were at a completely different place than expected but then so were loads of other pens. They didn’t seem to sell pens in one place but scattered them throughout the store. No wonder I couldn’t find what I wanted.
Outside, in the open precinct, I saw some owls. Not real ones, you understand. I took some pictures. They were part of a charity event known as The Big Hoot in partnership with the Birmingham Children’s Hospital and shown in five town centres. Some of the owls were painted by children. The ones I saw were numbered 61 to 67 out of a total of 89. Each one named the artist. Apparently there is a trail mapped out for kids to follow during the school holidays. More on the event here.
AND HOW ABOUT THESE TWO
|Do you think the skeleton's face was to keep kids off the demon drink?!|
The rest of the pictures of crowd scenes and then we will get to what happened next
|Storyteller kept the kids amused - every fifteen minutes apparently! I felt out of place listening to the story.. smiles.|
|Bean bags to sit on as well as desks and chairs|
|The girl on the left was having her face painted like an owl|
|It did the heart good to see the little ones enjoying themselves|
It was all very nice and very tiring so I decided to go and collect the car from the car park. As always it was in the multi-storey, on the third floor. Even that wasn’t without incident...haha.
I pressed for the lift to take me to my floor, waited a good five minutes (I don’t use stairs these days) for it to arrive at ground level. It was full of people so I had to wait while they and someone in a wheelchair came out. Then it was my turn. All alone I travelled up to... no, not the third floor, I went straight up to the roof. Someone must have pressed the button just prior to me! Down I went again, and got out on the third, but I had a nice couple to talk to as we descended. They were surprised that I didn't get out and waited courteously for a few seconds until I explained; I didn’t mentioned that they were responsible for my extended journey in the lift.
Now this car park has a winding slipway that passes through all floors before reaching the ground. It reminds me of something at a fairground, when you drive without knowing if something is in front of you. This slipway is wide enough for two cars but only one ‘lane’ is ever used for going down. No car ever goes up, you see, except in an emergency, the journey up taking a completely different route. Regardless of descending traffic some people think it’s okay to stand there and talk and today was no exception. Three women were right in the middle of my path. Well, I say ‘mine’ but other cars were held up in front of me. The women were obviously oblivious because they didn’t budge until a car driver shouted a few expletives at them.
Finally I got on the homeward trail, back in normal street traffic. One particular junction has a grid that drivers cannot enter until the exit is clear. One guy waited and waited so I slowed and gestured for him to go. Did he go? Did he, heck! Flashing lights didn’t help either so in the end I waved him through and shouted in the process. Only then did he budge. Honestly, he could have been there forever... I deserve recognition for being kind to young men who haven’t a clue about road sense.
Well that’s it, folks. Back home, tea time, and an hour watching my favourite soap before I retired for the day. Hope you weren’t too bored!