View From The Window

Well, it's been a wee while and it is cold outside. Washington House has sold, yes, over two years I think and it has gone, I had a look inside about a month or so ago when I fixed a sticking door for the brother of the owner, an old gent, ex doctor, so I am marginally handier than he is. It is a quirky house having been built in the early 17thC but needs a lot of work to bring it up to a modern standard, the new owner is said to be downsizing, which seems odd when you buy a Grade II listed building to do so.

I have had several run ins with the great British public, I went to the O2 last month courtesy of my son who got weekend tickets to Country2Country and offered the missus and I the Saturday night show, we babysat, oops, child minded (I stand corrected by my eldest granddaughter) on the other two nights. We arrived at the venue and saw a queue, so we joined it, thinking we had better before it got too long, it transpired it was a queue for spending money at stalls selling all kinds of western wear and not for the entrance to the show! We shook our heads and headed for the real entrance, we had seats way up in the Gods but still with a decent view of the stage, as we waited the seats to our immediate front filled up, the four owners slurping pints and checking their phones, I sensed this was not going to go well. Sure enough, after yet more pints they decided to stand up and dance on the spot while serenading all around with their version of the song the artist was singing down below. I knew talking to them would get me nowhere so I told the missus I would be back, I made my way to an entrance and told the young customer service lad I was not pleased at paying for my seat and simply looking at the back of a drunken prat. He came back and told me people were allowed to dance in their seats, but I said these four are the only ones doing it all the time, I had checked the whole O2 from my seat. I could go to Customer Services, OK, where? I approached two young ladies with the intention of erupting, I had hardly got the first words out when one smiled and asked if I wanted moved, yes please, the girls conferred and said I could have seats in the Amazon Lounge. I went back, waved the missus to follow me and ended up sixty yards from the stage on the lower level, a private bar to my rear and no one sitting even close, oh there was one woman playing Candy Crush on her phone nearby, I could live with that.


Last Friday we popped in to Lancaster to pick up a digibox thing from Currys/PC World, it was evening and as I entered the car park from the ramp it was empty, so I decided to drive straight forward and park on one of the bays near the shop. A woman was walking to the side of the car so I slowed down to let her pass, she slowed down as well, then as I sat for another minute or so, she moved in front of the car and pointed around her, so what, thought I. Park somewhere else the place is empty she shouts, I point to where I am going and eventually she moves off, have you ever seen the Die Hard movie where Bruce Willis exits the moving car firing two guns, well for Bruce Willis read Mrs Anderson. No passers-by were harmed during this altercation, but she was pushing it when she said I tried to run her over and then took a picture of my car, it took me ten minutes or so to calm the wife down, the woman slunk away not knowing how lucky she was. My missus has decided to have zero tolerance for people who annoy her from now on, 2018 could be a long year for me.

Seriously though, how can people think it is alright to selfishly ruin another persons evening by standing in front of them during a show, or using a phone during a movie, or parking across three bays while the missus pops into Tesco when the bloody bays are empty anyway (like yesterday afternoon).

Now and then though you get to strike back, I threw a man out of the shop years ago before he got two words out of his mouth because I knew he was in to complain about the workmen laying sets on my drive, we had history and for the record he has alienated all his neighbours over the years. His wife has now joined him in exile.

Why should Britain tremble, young lad comes up to the counter and says can he collect the parcel for his dad, well spoken, dressed well, about fourteen. Just fill in the bottom of the card says I, I don't have a signature says he, looking a bit askance I said you know it is your name? Yes, but I don't get a signature until the last year at school, what will I put, write your name, so he did, Josh!

The PO has done it again, they have issued new forms for something or other which we now have to scan, but if you have had the new equipment upgrade the scanner will not read the barcode so you have to type it in, you know it makes sense.

Did you see the one about the stolen Donkey's recovered in Wales where a newspaper reporting the theft blacked out their eyes for privacy, god help us.