Post 476: All you ever want in a day.
I wanted a lot out of today, so I started with a careful mental list while feeding Mr Vicious and from there had my power food, like all superheroes do.
After that, surely I couldn’t go wrong.
Another alarm, another sunny day, and we’re off and running into another month of dry heat, which is fine by me.
I don’t tire of waking up and smiling at the desert-like conditions in the garden below my bedroom window. It now seems we’re living through the best summer on record.
I headed downstairs and threw the patio doors open to refresh the stale overnight air in the conservatory.
Then I spotted a helpless being that needed my superpowers.
Immediately I strode forth and, with one of my huge hands, carefully wrapped it up and carried it outside into the world beyond the windows.
A peacock butterfly.
It had somehow found itself trapped amongst the cobwebs and dusty corners of the conservatory, so I released it into a brand-new day.
That wasn’t on my list.
But who’s counting?
I now felt like I’d won a race and done a good deed at the same time.
Happy am I.
⸻
Friday breakfast is nearly always muesli, but not today.
I wanted a power snack.
Something to charge the body up with a serious dose of protein.
So my big day was going to start with a room-temperature tin of sprats.
With a kitchen towel spread across the table and the open tin of slightly smoked fish in olive oil in front of me, it took only a few seconds to devour these little beauties.
I chewed and tasted and chewed some more until there was nothing left but oil and tiny tails.
The paper towel was then squeezed into the tin to soak up the remaining juices before the whole lot went into the recycling. (OCD?)
A high-protein breakfast from a tin.
Exactly the start I wanted.
I’d eaten enough this week and wanted to know how much I weighed, just for the record.
My belly told me I’d probably returned to my “normal” weight and that the stone I’d lost was now long forgotten.
As it happens, Friday is weigh day for my Darling and me.
So…
Drum roll please…
Twelve stone exactly.
Perfect.
The stone is back on and I’m relieved.
I’m able to eat well again and, perhaps more importantly, I can start worrying less about the weight I’d lost.
Happy days.
⸻
I got ready to drop my Darling into town and then planned to collect the letter from the GP surgery for the life insurance claim I’ve been waiting on for three months.
In fact, first thing this morning I’d received an email from my cancer care nurse telling me she was going to chase up the claim report that had been sent to my cancer consultant earlier in the week.
Brilliant news.
Once those reports are sent off, the claim should finally be back on track.
But things didn’t work quite so smoothly for me.
I asked for the letter at the GP surgery and the receptionist couldn’t find it.
After looking at the text message I’d received, she gently pointed out the error of my ways.
I’d been sent to the wrong surgery.
Oh, how stupid of me not to read the bloomin’ text properly.
My superhero powers weren’t quite at full strength today.
Still, a short walk and another brief conversation through another receptionist’s window was all that was needed to find the paperwork.
One down.
Two to go.
⸻
I got home and immediately opened the envelope.
Inside were a few copies of diagnostic information from four years ago and not much else.
Very droll.
I left the paperwork for later and started looking around for my Mini car keys.
After a concerted search, and with the clock ticking enough for me to start panicking, I texted my Darling.
“Have you seen my keys?”
The phone rang almost immediately.
Guess who had them?
Yep.
My Darling had picked up the wrong set of keys for her and had taken my Mini keys with her to the SW meeting.
She was giggling with embarrassment.
I couldn’t get angry.
In the circumstances, I could simply take her car.
So I did.
⸻
First stop was my old workplace.
I’d worked there many years ago and, although I’ve been gone for around fifteen years, I’ve kept in touch with several of the guys still there.
Going back isn’t a great worry for me.
But when I arrived, all the machines were off and everyone had gone home for the weekend.
Just my old pal was waiting for my “royal visit”.
That suited me perfectly.
Seeing all the new machinery squeezed into the ancient workshop was amazing.
Of course, the old building was still falling down.
I couldn’t believe it was still standing.
But that is exactly why they’ve built the new factory in the garden, only about two hundred yards away.
So we went out through the old place, through the secret garden wall…
And then…
BOOM!
Wow!
A massive, brand-new, all-singing-and-dancing factory stood before me, almost ready for the machinery to be installed and wired up.
In three weeks’ time the machines are booked to move across.
And that’s that.
I was shown around and all the plans were explained while a handful of contractors quietly worked away.
Soon the rumble and squeak of machinery will fill the silence of today’s viewing.
The machines being moved over will have more room around them for servicing, the routes between them will be properly laid out, and the workers will have a much safer place to work.
No more chunks of concrete falling from the old decrepit roof.
The millions spent on the engineers and the building are testament to the skill and endeavour that goes into keeping those classic, old racing cars moving, with all the specialist parts that inevitably need replacing.
Wow.
The quality of the new building was incredible.
I can see this factory lasting a hell of a long time.
The whole tour was an inspiration.
I wish I worked there now, with all those improvements and all that future-proofing.
Wow!
⸻
I let my pal lock everything up and we trotted off to the pub, not more than a mile away.
We sat down in the restaurant and ordered a couple of sausage baguettes.
Then we chatted.
And chatted.
And chatted some more.
By the time my second pill alarm went off at four o’clock, we realised how quickly the time had disappeared.
We both had things to do, so we left the pub for another day and parted company with worn-out happy tongues.
“See you soon” was the last thing said as we headed off in different directions, having put the world to rights once again.
⸻
I then smartly got myself to Big Sis and Big Bro-in-law.
Late, obviously.
But I don’t think they minded.
We hugged and chatted and, with a cuppa on the terrace of their wonderfully overgrown rear garden, watched the blue sky darken as the evening wore on.
My Darling and I had the Grand Hotel dinner the following day and Sis wanted photographs.
We were already excited, but the more we talked about it, the more we anticipated a fabulous evening.
It’s not every day we get to dress up in our best clothes and sit down for a meal in a classic, well-known hotel.
But there is an extra little twist.
Forty years ago my Darling got a job there as a chambermaid.
That very hotel was the scene of some very funny and some very scary incidents behind the scenes.
So tomorrow will stir up old memories while creating some new ones.
That’s something to look forward to.
⸻
By seven o’clock I thought it was time to head home.
I wasn’t sure whether I was hungry, but when I got through the door my Darling suggested fish and chips.
I can’t remember the last time we had them.
I agreed immediately.
We sped off to the local chippy and sped back with one cod, one haddock and chips with mushy peas.
Not mine, I hasten to add.
I hate mushy peas.
We sat with the chips between us and the fish in our hands, having a whale of a time.
It was such a treat.
We scoffed the lot.
Then, with the best food coma in the world, we sat back and watched the big telly until eventually our tired eyes told us it was time to climb the stairs.
Bedtime.
⸻
This was a Friday like no other.
A proper treat.
Tomorrow there’ll be a polite stroll along the seafront, a dinner, some dressing up and a little celebrating.
Why the hell not?
Good night.
Take care.
