This morning I'm sitting reading the paper, drinking a cup of tea. The door bell rings and it is a salesman from Eon. Now I hate people trying to sell me stuff at the door. But I'm polite, I appreciate the man has a job to do. I told him I was happy with my energy provider (stupid term) and he asked me who my energy provider was. Instead of telling him to mind his own business and set Tommy on him, I just said that my husband takes care of all that (Steve was upstairs and said he had to choke back a laugh, hearing me being such a 50s wife) and the man sneered at me. No need for that was there?
I popped in to Sainsburys yesterday and the Big Issue seller was aggressive. I'm not being bullied into buying a copy, and anyway Ricky Gervais is on the cover and I hate him. I used to dislike him when he was on Liquid News before he became famous. That dislike has grown in to hatred.
About 4 years ago I bought 3 pairs of jeans from Peacocks. They were the best jeans ever. But Peacocks don't do that style any more and I really need to buy new pairs. Today in George I bought 2 pairs. I did my normal tests in the changing room (sitting down, bending over , walking , to see if the jeans stayed put - I hate jeans that gradually ride down and I'm in horror of builders bum). Obviously changing room tests aren't the same as real life, but I have high hopes.
When I got home and opened the door I could hear scrabbling in the kitchen. I don't know what happened but Tom couldn't get up from the lino. He wasn't crying, didn't look in pain and I lifted him up and put in the hall. Tom walked away, and if a dog can look embarrassed, he did. I think he is ok. Made mental note to always shut the kitchen door when we go out.
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