Mr B says that, with Storm Dennis about to give us all a battering, I need to keep an eye on the roof.
me somebody, how do I do that, without braving the elements myself and risking being blown away into next door’s garden by Dennis the Menace? How would I know what to look for anyway, or would it be, like, obvious? Most of all, do I really need such
a Big Worry in my life?
I am, by nature, one of Life’s Worriers - but I do try very hard to confine myself to small, solvable worries. For example, I enjoyed
myself worrying about booking my Grand Old Lady into the garage for her MOT especially as I completely forgot last year - but this year the government actually emailed to remind me. Wasn’t that inordinately kind of it, to stop me worrying? I mean, I
still needed to worry about which garage to contact, then actually to worry about when to make the phone call and to spend an appropriate amount of time worrying about the best date to consign the GOL to her Testing Experience - but these were all perfectly
solvable concerns. Come the day, I will of course be fraught with worry about whether the GOL will pass her test with flying colours or will need some remedial treatment but sufficient unto the day is the worry thereof. Which sounds positively biblical, doesn’t
I worried about finding a window cleaner to Lighten Our Darkness - now I am worried because three people have contacted me to say that their own wielder of
bucket and sponge will be in touch with me and I shall have to make a choice. One friend tells me her window cleaner has long hair which any girl would pine for so I am hoping he will be the first to call as I am worried that I will not otherwise have the
opportunity to check out his curly locks. Still, as I said before, it’s a solvable worry.
The other day I dreamt that Mr B and I had been instructed to self-isolate
in case we were carrying the Coronavirus - such a worry it was, dreaming about the contents of my fridge and freezer and whether I could make them last a fortnight. How many meals could I make out of a leg of lamb and a roast in the bag chicken I worried,
as I tossed and turned in the bedclothes. When I awoke, it quickly occurred to me that all I would have to do, in such an eventuality, would be to book an on-line Ocado order (other food delivery outlets would doubtless be equally obliging.) The delivery driver
would come along in the Raspberry van, or the Onion van, or the Cabbage van (only Ocado customers will know what I am talking about) and could leave my shopping out on the doorstep, ringing the bell and hurriedly retreating so as not to come into personal
contact with me. It would be like being under siege in a castle in the Olden Days, where provisions had to be hauled up the castle walls with a rope and basket. Though, possibly, not so romantic.
Mr B and I often have a discussion about pessimism versus optimism. His point of view is that, by being pessimistic (though he prefers to describe himself as realistic) one is never taken by surprise. Hence, keeping an eye
on the roof of our house as Storm Dennis approaches. From my perspective, optimist that I am, provided our roof remains just as stalwart against the Wrath of Dennis as it has in withstanding similar forces of nature over the last sixty plus years I will have
saved myself a whole heap of angst.
We do, to be fair, have our fair share of major things to worry about, Mr B’s health being the most prominent among
them. Someone very wise once told me that if you could do something about a problem, you should just get on and do it; if you couldn’t then there was no point worrying about it. I rather like breaking problems down into manageable chunks and then finding
solutions to those problems. There are few things more satisfying than the sense of achievement which comes with each problem solved.
Meanwhile, just in case I
need something to worry about to stop me worrying about the roof, the dishwasher is bleeping at me accusingly. This is not as it should be.
Please excuse me while