Sitting at my desk I can see people coming to the house - and they can see me. And I could tell by the woman's face that she had indeed seen me as she came up the steps, so it was too late to hide under the desk. I went to the door muttering under my breath, 'Oh no, oh no, oh no.'
I thought she was a gypsy - one regularly used to call on me and I have a collection of lace doilies to prove it - and I feared I was going to end up with yet another one. But she was a Jehovah's Witness. On her own. They always travel in pairs; that's what fooled me.
Now if I'd been a good Christian I'd have invited her in, given her a cup of tea and explained the error of her ways. But I didn't. But at least I didn't take up her kind offer of a free copy of The Watchtower. So that's an improvement on the past!
* * * * * * * * * *
Door-knocking is a horrible job. As a householder I hate the intrusion on my privacy, but as a sucker (see earlier post) I can't just shut the door on them.
Younger Son works for a company involved in encouraging council tenants to buy their own homes. Normally he's in the office but today and yesterday he's been out knocking on doors. Some of his calls yesterday evening took place in the dark and some of the houses had doors at the side, down unlit passages. He said, 'I knocked at one door, a woman answered it, saw me and screamed.'
Now, have you seen Younger Son? He is a big and hairy lad. I can understand how he frightened people! But he's very sweet really.
Apparently one person mistook him for rugby player, Colin Charvis, who is at least 10 years older - and black.
Still if he plays his cards right tonight, he might pick up a few treats.