I feel like this is my second home all of a sudden.
I am sitting in the clubhouse at Tom’s new training ground. I like it here. I have certainly been in worse places, where sport is concerned.
The downside is that it’s noisy. I like to write in peace, much to Elsie’s annoyance. I am not an avid TV watcher and can take it or leave it, so it is easy for me to spend an evening in silence (well not counting the constant interruptions) and write. I don’t ever feel like I am missing out on a particular TV drama or news story. If I feel the need, I am happy to catch up as and when.
Elsie can not comprehend why I want to sit in silence. However, she does not have children and does not yet appreciate how nice a bit of peace and quiet can be. Elsie is uncomfortable in silence, in her room alone she will usually have the TV on, while listening to music and not really be paying attention to either, as she is on her phone chatting to her friends.
I don’t understand that. How you would possibly be taking anything in with all that going on?
It can be hard to write in the sports bar though, as the TV’s are on, usually playing football or a sport of some variety. This evening there seems to be a lot of children in here too. It is not a particularly interesting place and people don’t really chat, which is fine as I am more than happy to blend in to the background. Well, unless a particularly handsome guy walks in and grabs my attention.
This is my life now, at least during the football season and I’m not sure how long that actually is, so I may as well make the most of my time here.
Tom is enjoying his time at the club and seems to get on well with everyone. It is a rush to get him here on a Wednesday as I have to work till 5pm and we need to leave home at 5.30 pm, training starts at 6 pm.
Tom, who has been home since 3.20 pm, is never bloody ready because he has been waylaid by his Xbox. So when I walk in at 5.10 pm and start shouting at him until 5.15 pm, then get changed myself in an effort to try to leave at 5.25 pm. I end up driving like a racing driver to get there on time, while swearing like an old navvy.
So you can see why I am so grateful for the sports bar.
It’s been a funny old week so far. Monday saw someone get locked in the bloody toilet at work.
Well, he didn’t so much as get locked in, he just broke the bloody handle off the door from the inside, trying to get out. So despite the fact that we could unlock the door from the outside, we couldn’t turn the handle to get him out again.
It is sometimes a bit like a sitcom in our place.
Question: How many people does it take to get a patient out of the toilet? Answer: Too bloody many.
There was about six of us all trying different door opening tactics, like we were once assigned to the SAS but all to no avail. It was not budging.
Charlie, the chap stuck in the toilet had pulled the emergency cord to notify us that he was indeed stuck in the toilet and the alarm was still ringing in our ears. The first few minutes were spent trying to make sure Charlie had his trousers on before we burst in on him and the next few, trying to get him to hit the emergency button again to turn the bloody alarm off.
Now, in a situation like this, I would imagine it is easy to give an instruction for one person to follow. If.. A: You haven’t got an alarm ringing in your ears. B: You haven’t got six people all trying to give you the same instructions and C: The patient stuck in the toilet, isn’t a bit bloody deaf. However, when it is all of the above, it just becomes a chaotic mess.
In the end it was clear the door was not going to open and so the suggestion was that we kick it in.
This made me LOL a lot. We are women of a certain age. I don’t think any of us have the brute strength to kick a door in, it is the most I can do to get the lid off a jar sometimes.
We decided we needed a man. I knew I already needed a man but for very different reasons. However, back to the issue in hand. We could not use a patient, for obvious reasons, most of the ones that are here are unwell and if they so much as broke a nail, they could probably sue us. We couldn’t use one of the Doctors, not for anything manual. So we decided it would have to be someone from the garage along the road.
We borrowed a lovely, big, strong one.. He came, he saw, he kicked the door in, he went.
Charlie was free! There was a loud cheer in the building and after taking a bow, Charlie went off to the pub to get a whiskey for his nerves.
We, still have a broken door.
I was excited on Monday too, as it was kind of pencilled in that Mack and I would be going on a date. I use the word date loosely as I’m not entirely sure it could really be classified as a date.
The plan was for him to try to come after work (he finishes at 8 pm) we would go for a quick drink at the same pub we went to last time and see whether or not we still liked each other. To be honest, I wasn’t sure I could remember what he looked liked never mind if I liked him or not?
Anyway, I was very 50/50 about the whole thing. I wasn’t sure he would make it or if he would even try but I have to admit to not being too bothered either way. I mean I would have liked it to happen, otherwise I wouldn’t have agreed to it but I wasn’t going to have a breakdown if he didn’t make it.
He didn’t make it!
I got home from work, had a shower, as instructed by the buddies, just in case. It’s not that I don’t usually wash but I was kind of going down the, what is the point route. There was no way though I was going to get fully ready, like make-up ready, until I knew whether or not he was coming.
He was messaging me during the evening to keep me updated on his ETA but it was starting to shift, first to 8.15 then possibly to 8.30, in the end I just had to say, NO!
If you make a date, however casual that date may be, you should try to make it on time, if you can not then you will just have to re-schedule, if you get the opportunity and your date isn’t just a little bit pissed off with all your bloody messing about by then.
He did, later that evening message and say how sorry he was that he didn’t make it and that he was looking forward to it but he hasn’t tried to re-schedule and so I can only assume that he is still just playing games.
I am now becoming a little bit bored with Mack again, I didn’t think it would take long.
So I decided to engage in a couple of conversations with some new blood. Well Mack was never going to hold my attention for long, let’s be honest.
The first is Woodsman, he is quite local and 40. Woodsman is a reference to Red Riding Hood, which somehow is what our first few message were about!
We are fairly new in to our chit-chat, which so far is fairly pleasant, with mild flirting, that is quite funny in places. He is a typical horny male though and so we shall see where we end up by the end of the week, if anywhere?
The second is Xavier, he is 48 ( I am saying nothing). Xavier because it just fits. His messages are so far quite serious but they have an underlying current that runs right through them. He seems stern but playful. We are only just acquainted and he wants to meet for coffee, as he doesn’t want a pen pal… unlike someone else I know.