The charming young man from BT must have wondered what on earth was going on at our house this afternoon.
As he was unpacking
his gear, in readiness to scale the heights and reinstate our telephone line, a whole tribe of people trooped up our garden path. You could almost see his jaw drop at the sight of them.
We have been without our telephone line for a whole week, ever since we got back from holiday. Our broadband connection held on by its fingertips for a couple of days then faltered and died. Hence no Daily Blog for the last few days
– have you missed me?
BT said it would stay in touch via text messages but nary a one did we receive. We could also, they told us unhelpfully, check
progress via their website but, having no broadband connection, this proved a little difficult. We had to rely on the Youngest of the Darling Daughters to keep a check for us and goodness knows she has far better things to do with her time.
So who were the hordes of people arriving at our house at the very same time as the BT engineer? They were members of our Nomination Whist Group, arriving for an afternoon
of cards, company and endless chat. There were actually “only” ten of us altogether but as person after person trotted up the garden path, it must have seemed many more than that to Mr BT Man.
I love our Nomination Whist Group. In the morning, Mr B and I have to re-arrange the furniture so that we can fit in the card table and four chairs which have been stored between-times in the garage. We have to push the
settee and one of the arm-chairs back against the display cabinets to make room and clear the dining room table which will seat another six people. Out in the kitchen I set out ten white mugs on trays and consult my list which tells me who wants what: coffee
with milk; coffee with milk and one sugar; tea with a very little milk – it’s incredibly complicated making sure everyone gets their heart’s desire. And please don’t get me started on the biscuits! No, I mean, please don't, I am trying
to be good...
Mr B says our mugs are too large. He says he has never liked them ever since we bought them. He points, as evidence, to the fact that none
of our Nomination Whistlers ever manages to finish their drink at half-time because there just isn’t enough time to empty such a Mammoth Mug-full before we have to start the next game. I, on the contrary, think our large mugs demonstrate a generosity
of spirit. I rather think we shall have to agree to disagree on this one.
Our group is still quite new so Mr B has made everyone a printed badge to wear until
everyone is sure of everyone else’s name. Last time, Delia was in such a hurry to catch her bus at the end of the session that she rushed off without removing her badge. We all chuckled to think of her boarding the bus and all her fellow passengers greeting
her: “Hallo, Delia!” (She brought it back this week. Delia is very law-abiding.)
There was quite a lot of noise from the BT Man as he fixed our line.
But then there was just as much noise from inside the house, as the laughter level reached ever greater heights. I think, on balance, that we were having more fun.
Hopefully our Charming Engineer will never know how, when trying unsuccessfully to persuade BT that we needed an earlier visit, Mr B played his “We are Poor, Lonely Pensioners Who Cannot Be Cut Off From Our Family, the Only People Who Care About
Mr BT Man, lovely, trusting fella that he was, would surely have thought he’d gone to the wrong house...