‘Quite a Good Friday – really’

 

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Ups, Downs and Mis-deliveries

The day started well, with bright sunshine.

So bright that we had the covers off the table outside and the parasols erected ready for lunch al fresco. Scoob has his own parasol.

Gap Boy had been up most of the night yakking at his US mates so he was tucked up in his bed when we arose in a leisurely fashion.

Scoob was happy because he got treats and a walk with Hub. he also liked the fact that there were no postmen and no delivery men: the bin men took him by surprise however.  He can’t and won’t like them.

I was happy because I had Hub to myself, I had indulged in a very long and very intense discussion with Uni Boy which ended in exhaustion but also with the exhilaration of knowing that we have bought both our boys up to have minds of their own – not just me and Hub clones.

Hub bought me a glass of Marsala when the conversation ended.  I needed it.

Bezzie Mate was coming to stay; I was cooking a cake to celebrate – rhubarb crumble cake with ginger –  and we were having Chinese takeaway for dinner.

All in all, a good Good Friday.

We did a minor shopping trip – too big for a handbasket, too small for a big trolley so the small trolley was just right – bit like Goldilocks and the Three Bears meets Tesco really. Even the checkout man was in a good mood.  the sun seemed to have brought out the best in everyone.

Lunch in the sun on the patio.  Scoob was slathering after our bread and cheese.  Depending on his posture, he was either sitting in a pool of drool or wearing an unattractive soggy patch down his curly black frontage.

Hub very kindly laid out the ingredients for the cake and whilst I didn’t exactly do a Jon Richardson and pretend that I was on a cooking programme, it made the whole process more amenable having an array of bowls, spoons and other implements all ready for my use.

The cake went in the oven and Hub very obliging hoovered the lawn and the front room (misnomer really as neither machine used was actually a Hoover).

I was in contact with BM throughout his journey North, and we were actually on the phone when a large white delivery van pulled up outside – much to Scooby’s consternation.

Hub placated Scoob, I dispatched GB outside to fetch the parcel and busied myself between making sure GB’s mince didn’t burn and trying to turn my cooled cake out on to a rack – oh how Mary Berry am I!

GB returned, grumbling and clutching a card. He informed me that the delivery man had delivered my parcel to a different house and that he said it was up to us to go and collect it.

Boom! Ballistic me!

So GB gave the card to his father to go and collect the  parcel from the wrong house that it had been delivered to.

Unhappy Hub. He had been sitting contentedly reading his ‘Which’ magazine and like me, waiting for BM to arrive.  BM meanwhile was on the phone listening to me rant about the delivery man, and giggling.

Hub went off to collect the parcel.  GB had forgotten to tell him though, that the people who had my parcel had now gone out – which is why the delivery man had told us we would have to collect the parcel later.

I picked up the phone and complained to the company from whence came the parcel; no names, no pack drill but they share their name with a very long river.

The young lady I spoke to was very apologetic and very helpful, so my anger subsided. It takes a very good customer service person to calm me down.  She was extremely good.

BM arrived in the midst of the furore and was much amused by my transition from Mrs Angry to Mrs Placated.

Hub, BM and I had planned to pop down to the local tavern for a small cider and to watch the sun set, so I wrote a suitably nice note to the person who had my parcel and included my phone number so that they could contact us when it was convenient to come and collect.

As we were turning into the road, a white van came hurtling out and missed us by inches.  I knocked on the door of the wrong delivery house and was told that the delivery driver had just collected my parcel.

So we went back home again; the parcel had been received by GB, and I had a conciliatory email from the company requesting the outcome.

Off to the tavern; a tad chilly now but the sight of the sun setting behind the power station was one to behold.  The cider was pretty good too.

Chinese takeaway ordered, collected and eaten.  A pleasant evening  filled with wine, good conversation and more dog slather than you can throw a stick at.

Hub has now gone to bed (early shift tomorrow), GB is out on his motorbike, BM is watching ‘The Bourne Supremacy‘ and I am tappetty-tapping to beat my midnight deadline.

It has been a pretty Good Friday and we all have Easter eggs to look forward to – and rhubarb and ginger crumble cake.

 

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