In more ways than one, this was a dull day.
I spent the morning completing work on my backlog of e-mails. One was from my excellent accountant, Philip Friede, BA, FCA, of Hatton Garden, asking for the usual documentation and financial information required for the completion of my annual tax return. I promised him that I would put these in the post today.
That was the afternoon taken care of. Had I done any filing at all this year I could have saved myself a little time. But I hadn’t. By the skin of my teeth I posted the package with half an hour to spare.
As I set off to walk round the sunless stubble field to the dark and dingy wood, the rain set in. Nothing daunted, I braved the drizzle.
Grasses and nettles on the perimeter had escaped the harvester.
The field looked positively inviting from the gloom of the woodland path.
It has come to something when the only bright moment in the day came from the bulb in the lampshade above my head just as I was nearing the completion of my administration. A flash and it was extinguished, and the lights fused. The energy-saving fitting had burned out, its head and thorax severed from its rear left in the socket. I wrapped a piece of kitchen towel around the body which was still very hot. This was easily extracted. Only then did I realise that, like a stinging bee, the business end remained in place. Anyone who has met the same problem will know that its removal is a little more tricky, especially as the stinger protruded. That required a climb onto a chair to obtain a better grip. After this procedure, I fitted a new bulb, raised the relevant lever in the fuse box, and finished the interrupted task.
Mr Pink provided the fish and chips, Garner’s the pickled onions, Freshona the pickled gherkins, and Smedley’s the mushy peas, upon which we dined this evening. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank Linoti Montepulciano d’Abruzzo 2013.
