It’s a normal Friday here at the Manor.
Joe Duffy is on the radio in the next room bleating on and on and on and on about the Rona and muttering “washyerands” every now and then. I never would have thought anyone could put me completely off washing my hands but he has managed. God but he’s an irritating cunt!
I went to do some grocery shopping on line only to discover that the panic buying has started again. I haven’t a clue why, as the shops aren’t closing but whatever the reason, I can’t get a slot in Tescos this month. Strangely enough the panic hasn’t reached SuperValu yet so I placed an order for next week. I have to keep the whiskey flowing?
Anyhows I placed my order and then remembered Herself has a hospital appointment for an eye thingy next week and of course I had booked a grocery delivery for the very time we’ll be out. So I had to change it [the grocery order, not the appointment].
Having amended the delivery date I remembered I had had a mail from SuperValu giving a voucher code, so I had to go back into the order again and apply the code. That knocked €23 off the bill which ain’t too bad?
Now I have to make a phone call.
One of the hospitals is very keen to take an x-ray of Herself. For some time now they have been writing to make an appointment and then writing to cancel it. They must be getting desperate lately because the cancellations stopped. So after each letter I would have to phone them to cancel from this end. Neither of us fancies driving all the way up to Dublin, having to walk miles from the overcrowded carpark into a hospital which is a festering hotbed of Rona.
The last time I phoned them I confess I was a little annoyed. The bloke I spoke to was very understanding and when I explained that we kept getting these damned letters and that I was getting pissed off with phoning, he said he would take Herself off the system altogether. I thanked him and rejoiced at the thought of the ending of that saga.
The other day we got a letter saying they had made an appointment for an x-ray. I waited a day or two to see if they wrote again to cancel. They didn’t. Instead I got another letter apologising for the first letter but that the appointment had been changed. I really have to admire their dogged persistence. But now I have to phone them again to tell them to stuff their appointment and to please stop sending us fucking letters.
The other appointment that clashed with the groceries is different. It doesn’t involve the nightmare drive to a kip full of Rona. Nor does it involve x-rays. It’s just a preparatory visit before an eye operation.
And it has decent parking.