My evening has been full. It began with opening a letter from East Coast Mainline. I had applied for a part refund because of the delay delay on a train coming back to London after seeing Sparkling Eyes. The letter stated as my journey had been delayed by 2 minutes they were going to give me vouchers to the value of "£." That is a pound sign with a full stop. It meant of course there were no vouchers to refund part of a trip which was actually delayed by 1 hour and 22 minutes. I looked at the letter and the words which come out of my mouth echoed those of Victor Meldew. Yes they were "I can not believe it," followed by a little bit of John McEnroe "You can not be serious!" My gaze was somewhat fixed on the letter in disbelief. For now it meant I would have to expend more effort and write back to them. As if life isn't short enough as it is, they want me to waste more of it because East Coast Mainline can't read or understand their own tickets and time tables. It was delayed you idiots, pay me back my part refund per your own Customer Charter. I would jump up and down and shout "NOW, NOW! I WANT MY MONEY BACK NOW!" However the whole excitable episode would be completely missed if there was no one to see it or sympathise with my predicament.
I did not get right onto the letter straight away. I had to hit the local DIY store jumping on my bike and cycling a mile and half down the road. My mind was still buzzing from yesterdays quote"do what you can do" see yesterday's blog for details. I was now in search of drill bits which would allow me to do some pointing work. Something I have never done in my entire life, but have seen on You Tube. Every DIY enthusiast must love YouTube. So I got on my bike pretty quick as time was ticking past and I'd lost about an hour of it when I hit the pub for a two non alcoholic drinks to quench my first after Fish Factory hours. Down at the store I did a military march to the power tools section, walked round, picked up a small trowel thinking I would need this. Then put the trowel down because I also thought it wouldn't be worth it if I couldn't buy the drill bit. I found the drill bits section. With the eyes of a kestrel I stood there scanning each displayed set of drill bits. Searching. Going from one section of the display to another. I had walked sideways and didn't even blink, because I couldn't miss these bits. I needed it. I must have it or I won't be able to do the pointing. It wasn't there. I didn't jump up and down again, although at this point it was justified and I would of been a bit better in my making a scene, on account of having had previous experience with East Coast Mainline and their astutely moronic letter. I shuffled sideways again, not blinking or taking my attention anywhere else, I was like a cat about to pounce. As if it would do me some good. What a waste of time. It definitely was not there. So I got back on my bike and went home and spent an hour writing a letter.
I rang up the retired English teacher, because it was about time I found out how he was getting on. He was still in the throws of a campaign stopping the local Council from building on some land next to where he lived. It is on the front facing the river Thames. He had successfully pulled together a community group and given them an acronym just for this purpose. They in turn recently had a full page spread in the local rag about how they were fighting the development process and were tidying up the river front with the help of local volunteers. He had also got a petition presented at parliament by the local MP. This retired chappy was building bonds in the community and showing the Dunkirk spirit. I can't imagine the number of hurdles he had to go through to get to this point. Whereas there I was, in one evening and unable to get a bit or my money back from East Coast Mainline. I'll also mention how he is about to have his 5 year check up to see if he is in full remission of a bowel cancer he had removed. I strongly expect retired English Teacher did not jump up and down, either when he organized a campaign or when he found out about his cancer. But I'll tell you what I'll do it for you mate, because someone deserves to shout out in anguish. By this time I would be on my third run and quite proficient.
The moral of the story, keep yourself busy and if you need to jump up and down, do it so no one else sees it because then you might of just lost it and the sound of sirens will hit you before the feel of a relatively tight little jacket. White is quite a nice colour, isn't it?
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