A beautiful morning to be out delivering papers, if a
little chilly to start with. Had the usual struggle to get the youngest to wear
a coat - given it’s blowing a gale outside and must be below zero with the wind
chill – and lost. Despite the Asthma, common sense in youth does not prevail.
Met a pal of mine for coffee and a catch-up late
morning, and got talking to an old gent who works in MacDonald’s. Told us he
gets up at 5am every morning with his wife, who still works in the local
hospital, and he was telling us he’d never been late for his job, a real source
of pride for him. I contrast this with numerous stories I hear of youngsters
starting jobs who just don’t turn in, or do so late (and possibly hungover), acting
as though the world owes them a living. I wonder if it’s a generational thing,
and hope that me and Mrs P can install a sense of responsibility in our two.
Get home to two letters from the tax man (HMRC), which
contain three different tax codes for next year! Help! How does this help? I’ve
now got 15 minutes listening to music-on-hold to look forward to, before
speaking to someone with a geordie accent (the HMRC centre must be in the North
East), who explains it why three tax codes to me, then makes suitable
amendments and tells me to expect a revised tax code. Time will tell but my
recent experience with large organistaions has been poor, as regular readers
will know, so I travel this road more in hope than expectation.
Go to the outlaws for dinner, and very pleasant it is.
But I’ve noticed recently that elderly people of my acquaintance have the habit
of starting conversations in the middle, and not at the beginning. They just
assume you know what they’re talking about. I share the following conversation from
yesterday as an example.
“He broke the record last night!”
“Sorry?”
“That young lad, broke the record for the Rubics cube.”
“Sorry, I’m not with you.”
“12 seconds, and he can do it blindfold.”
“Right, Ok. Can you pass the potatoes please?” Me, with
a resigned tone.
Ever enlightened.
Jay
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