The Best Laid Plans…

Hello dear reader and welcome to another very hot day at Comb Towers. I know I shouldn’t say it, but what the heck, I’m going to anyway. I don’t think I really like hot weather. I know, I know. I can already hear the groans and grumbles, “some people are never satisfied…” I know that’s true. When we are in the depths of winter I will look back through the rosy glow of nostalgia at these dog days of summer. But at present, I am struggling with the heat and am secretly looking forward to cooler times.

   I have been without a laptop all week as it has been in for repair. It had a nasty moment and took its bat home and that was that. Other than struggling to do some work on my phone, life has been fairly serene and uneventful, for which I was most grateful. A whole week, thinks I and nothing has gone wrong. The sun is still in the heavens and the sky has not fallen in upon us. Moral of tale - do not tempt fate. The happy situation was not to last.

   So, early Friday afternoon I chivvy Spouse on to get changed and smarten himself up as we are booked to go to the Community Centre to help set out the tables and chairs for the first performance of a new murder mystery play by a local playwright. No problem there and we were soon sashaying up the road. But… oh dear, when we arrived we found the table tennis club was about to commence play and would be there until 4 0’clock. We did an about turn and set off for home. I must have got the time wrong. Spouse was not impressed. He had been in the middle of tidying his shed, (a not inconsiderable task I may say) and was then dragged away for no good reason.

   As you might imagine I was not top of the pops in his charts. On the way home, discussion turned to food - well, we are talking Spouse who has hollow legs and needs feeding in industrial quantities. If we had to be back at the centre for 4 0’clock, probably at least until 5 0’clock and then a meal had to be cooked and eaten, so that  Spouse could depart for Bridlington to set up for his Philatelic Society meeting that evening.

   I had prepared an aubergine bake ready to warm in the microwave and then finished off in the oven with a cheese topping. No worries. I migt have got the time of the set up wrong but never fear, Spouse would not starve. Thus it was, with dinner almost ready to go on the table at 3.15p.m., I checked the calendar. I don’t know why I did or what I was looking for, but check I did. Only to find that the Dramatic Society was performing next Friday, not this Friday.

   Hey ho, dinner was ready, so we ate it in the middle of the afternoon and I think I can safely draw a veil over Spouse’s remarks re the situation. Suffice it to say I am not considered to be the brain of Britain this week. Quite the opposite I fear. ‘Spot the brain cell’ was mentioned in passing.

   Perhaps the preparation of a light supper might make amends later on when he returns, no doubt extremely hungry, after a busy meeting. Mea culpa, Spouse and I hope my brain cell returns soon.

   Have a lovely weekend, dear reader and I live in hopes that goodwill to all men (and women) will return to Comb Towers soon.