Mr B is somewhat displeased with me. For “somewhat”, read “extremely.”
This is not, to be fair, unusual.
When a person depends, as Mr B sadly does, on somebody else for more or less everything, the chances are that the Somebody Else (that’ll be me, then) will occasionally get things wrong. Or, more likely, often.
I was having such a busy time this morning, quite apart from all the customary early morning activity such as serving up the first cups of coffee of the day, cooking breakfast, sorting out clean clothes
for today. I had to phone the pharmacy to chase Mr B’s missing medication, prepare myself for the Friday morning Zoom singalong with the Singing for Pleasure choir, and chat to Handy Andy who turned up unexpectedly in the middle of everything to discuss
my latest project - the Room Outdoors Project (of which you will hear much more in future weeks. I hope you are duly excited?)
Sitting down for the briefest of
breathers, I checked the Golden Numbers in our daily newspaper. Reader, I couldn’t believe my eyes - over the week I had opened four £1k windows (think Advent calendars but with pound signs behind the windows instead of chocolate) meaning we had
won £1000! Okay, this was the smallest prize, other fortunate people would have won £5000, £10,000 or even £20,000. But you know me, I’m not the greedy type and a cool thousand pounds would go a fair way towards the Room Outdoors
Mr B said he would believe it when he saw it though he did look pretty pleased at the thought of some winnings coming our way. Even more delighted was
the Darling Daughter-in-Law when I messaged her with the good news. “OMG! That’s amazing!” she messaged in return, accompanying her congratulations with some celebratory emojis. (I don’t happen to use emojis myself, on account of not
being totally sure what they all mean - I am fearful of accidentally sending a wildly inappropriate symbol suggesting, for example, that I might be laughing at a friend’s misfortune.)
The Darling Daughter-in-Law and I have bonded over the Golden Numbers competition in the last fortnight. Obviously we have bonded over much more important things in the past, not least our shared love of her (Not So Very Little) Welsh
Boys. However it has been fun, checking progress with each other and commiserating when, yet again, we fail to open any windows or get anywhere near winning anything. Until today, that is - no wonder she was the first person I contacted with news of our good
As soon as the prize line opened, I was on the phone, breathless with anticipation. After pressing a few buttons, the way you do these days, I found myself
listening to an impassive, recorded voice at the other end of the phone explaining that he would be reading out all 42 winning numbers so that I could make sure I really had won something in this week’s competition. Apparently they had been receiving
record numbers of calls from people believing, incorrectly, that they had won...
Oh, I was SO sure of myself. But however intently I listened, the number 21 wasn’t
among those called out by The Voice. How could this be? I rang the number four more times to check I hadn’t missed it but finally had to accept the inevitable. Downcast, I trotted into the living room to confess my mistake to Mr B. It was a good thing,
he said, that I hadn’t blabbed about our win to anyone else....
It is true, is it not, that you can’t miss something you never had in the first place?
Telling myself this helps a bit - but not a lot.
So near - but so very, very far...