I thought you'd want to know that.
So I suppose we should all be eating chocolate and curry. But not necessarily together.
On a separate note the Linden boiler saga continues. Where did I get to in my telling of the sad story? No matter, I'll just moan. The gas man was supposed to be coming on Friday to fit a new part. He finally turned up at 4.20 in the afternoon. I suspect he had forgotten and a mad rush followed my multiple phone calls: Is the gas man coming? When is the gas man coming? The gas man is coming today, isn't he?
Anyway he came, he fitted and he left, smiling, and therein lies the crux. You see, he lulled me into a false sense of security: he had that calm assurance that he knew what was wrong causing me to have faith in him. To believe, to have hope. There's nothing worse than shattered hope.
So when the boiler wasn't working today I simply collapsed into a little heap on the floor, sobbing softly to myself. (I didn't of course. My granny would have disinherited me, had she not already been dead and, anyway, had nothing for me to inherit.)
So he will come back with another part tomorrow - or maybe Wednesday, depending.
And that was my morning. My afternoon could only get better. You'd think?
Wrong. It was off to see the nurse for a routine smear test. 'This is Mandy,' she says. 'She's learning. Do you mind if she watches?'
'Now let your knees flop out and relax.'
Wait a minute. Isn't that what they ask men to do? I would look at the nurse to see if she looks confused but it's hard to stare in the face of someone with her head between your legs.
'Now, Mandy, you see that ...? And the bits of string? Good. Okay, thank you.'
And that's it. For another 3 years all being well.
Now it's just the dentist and kennel cough that needs doing.