“What are you up to today then?” the Youngest of the Darling Daughters texted me this morning. She seemed so sure that I’d doing something interesting...
I had to confess that I was using the morning for what I like to call “odd jobs.” Mr B was playing in his Triples Bowls League so wouldn’t be back for a couple of hours. This meant I could spread out my birthday
banners (two more birthdays in July – there’s no stopping them) all over the floor while I threaded them together with pink string, hopping about between letters to make sure they were evenly spaced – without getting in anybody’s (i.e.
Mr B’s) way.
It meant I could write all the birthday cards which needed to be posted off today if they were to reach their destinations in plenty of time.
Mr B says I send far too many birthday cards. Even though we now only use second class stamps. He prefers e-cards for which we pay a very modest annual subscription enabling us to send as many cards as we like over the course of the year. But
you can’t put an e-card on the mantel-piece, can you? Which means nobody who visited you would know how many people love you, or at least like you enough to send you a card, even at 50p for a second class stamp.
I realise I am not showing myself off in a good light here but I imagine, if nobody loved me enough to send me a card, I might actually buy one for myself to grace my mantel-piece. It would be classy
and timeless. Then I could send it to myself every year. Oh, yes, I would certainly post it to myself. It's only 50p after all. That way I would have the pleasure of seeing it landing on my door mat on the Big Day and wondering who it might be from, trying
to decipher whose handwriting it is on the envelope. “It’s from me!” I’d carol, excitedly, tearing open the envelope with scant regard for the fact that, in so doing, I would have to find another envelope, of the exact same
size, to send myself the following year.
I needed to send a few holiday photos to one of the new friends I made on holiday. She is visually impaired so I wrote
my accompanying message in large print - then worried in case this might seem patronising. Hopefully she will like the photos and the card with the bright sunflower on the front anyway...
job” was to telephone people to check on our diary arrangements this week and next. Having been away on holiday, we have lost track a bit of where we are supposed to be and when. Mr B considers me his (unpaid) Social Secretary so it falls to me to do
the telephoning. Yes, we do have Cribbage Group on Friday evening and we are both expected. No, we are not on the list for the Blue Badge Guided Walk around Worthing next week but we can be first on the reserve list if we like. Yes, the Summer Reading
Challenge is on again at the library this year and I will be very welcome to help out yet again but I need to fill in an on-line application form. Every phone call, it seems, throws up yet another “odd job.”
I emailed some newspapers with the latest News Release and photograph for the forthcoming production of Seussical Jr, in which grand-kids Jack and Hazel play Mr Mayor and the Sour Kangaroo respectively.
Check out the following for tickets: www.baoslimelight.ticketsource.co.uk . The play is based on Dr Seuss’s book “Horton Hears a Who” – they reckon that
if parents only ever buy their children one book, that’s the one it should be. It’s a story about love, family, friendship, determination, keeping promises, persevering and recognising the value in everyone, however small and apparently insignificant
they may be.
Rather like my odd jobs, now come to think of it...