Have just finished watching my weekly glitz with Dancing on Ice which gets more and more raucous so once more I had my remote to hand and could block out all the screaming and yelling that goes on. One 'celebrity' fell over this week and broke his ankle and had to withdraw from the show. Well, never seen anything like it, he was in tears, his partners was in tears, Jayne Torvill and Christopher Dean were in tears, not a dry eye in the house. I began to think I had wandered into a lunatic asylum. Peace and quiet in a few mins with Lark Rise and wallow.
Finished reading two Lake District mysteries which I have posted about and enjoyed and then slap bang into another book, sent to me by Snow Books, which I simply loved and found I could not put down, more of that tomorrow and then started the latest Margaret Forster which has just come out in paperback, and once more am gripped by this author's writing which I admire hugely.
So a pretty laid back weekend. On Saturday morning my car went into the garage for repair after somebody, I know not who, scraped the side of my lovely Nissan and not only took quite a bit of paintwork off, but also left a dent. This was done in the car park of my block of flats when we had quite a lot of visitors before Christmas. No sign of Christmas cheer, no note, no nothing. I am extremely cross.
I have been given a courtesy car for the week, a Vauxhall Corsa, which seems to drive very heavy after my nippy Niss and I took it out for a drive to get the hang of it. I shall only be using it to get me to and from the station so no worries but thought I had better try it out and just as well I did because I could not find out how to turn the lights on. Now this is a worry as I leave home in the dark and come back in the dark so would be at a slight disadvantageous if I couldn't light my way. Tried every button, pushed every knob. Nada. Got online to see if there was a handbook, nothing in the car at all, still could find nothing so in the end rang up the Vauxhall help centre. I am pretty sure that they must get far dafter calls than mine, but I did feel a bit of a twit saying Please can you tell me how to turn the lights on? Fortunately, I got a lovely young girl on the phone, with the most wonderful Liverpool accent, who said 'Don't worry luv, I've got a Vauxhall Corsa and you will find the light knob ...' and then went on to explain how to sort it out. She spoke to me in a very comforting sort of way and I could almost hear her saying after the call 'Ah bless, I had this lady on the phone who didn't know how to turn her lights on'.
Never mind, she was a sweetie and I nipped outside, followed her instructions and we have lift off. That is a bit of relief I can tell you.
Another big decision reached this weekend as well. I have finally decided that as I hate housework so much, I am not going to do it any more. I don't live in squalor, far from it, but I never get the hoover out, rarely dust and polish and I am ashamed to look at the dust balls under my bed and the cobwebs lurking in the corners of my flat. Therefore, from Wednesday this week, I have a lovely lady coming in to do my cleaning for me and I am thrilled to bits with this and must remember NOT to run around cleaning and tidying up before she arrives ...
Hope you are all having a good weekend.
