So I have everything ready for my walk with George and I head for the back door: it's locked. I reach for the key in its usual place but it's not there. I look around and not finding it call Husband.
'You locked up last night; where did you put the key?' (I am delighted that for once I know I'm not at fault.)
A long conversation follows along the lines of 'usual place' etc etc before he refuses to believe me and comes to look for himself.
We then conduct a thorough search including the rubbish bin in case it fell in. Eventually Husband goes upstairs to look in his other trouser pockets in case he left it there. And that's when I remember the key I put in the camera bag a few minutes previously ready for our walk.
'Um, it's okay, I've found it,' I shout up the stairs.
'Where was it?'
'Er, I'd rather not say.'
* * * * * * * *
Last Monday I arranged to meet a plumber at Linden on Tuesday afternoon. It was Wednesday morning before I remembered.
I called him and apologised profusely and tried several times to re-arrange but he ignored my messages.
On Monday I gave up and arranged to meet another plumber at Linden today at 1.00 pm.
To say I am neurotic about this meeting is putting it mildly. I have set the alarm on my computer, left myself notes in prominent positions and even got Carolyn from Linden to email me this morning to remind me.
I have a fear of being blacklisted by every plumber in Swansea