Early this morning I watched recordings of the Women’s rugby World Cup match between USA and Japan, and between Wales and New Zealand.
Later, I telephoned O2 to ask once more for the PAC Code. I was connected to the Sales team. Carl, the man I spoke to, was very helpful and immediately sent the code – twice because it had not arrived. He then realised it had not been delivered because mine was reported as an invalid number. I pointed out that that had not stopped them sending the six unwelcome and, in the circumstances irrelevant, texts on the previous two days.
He left me on hold while seeking advice. He then transferred me to Customer Services. I offered the opinion that, given this was all about my leaving, that was surely the department to which I should have been sent first.
Before Customer Services answered we were disconnected. I heard no more.
This called for a postprandial forest drive.
“Slosh, slosh”, went the heavy breathing Tamworth pigs on Coach Hill Lane outside Burley
as they smilingly shuffled and snuffled around hoovering up the plentiful acorns
falling from the trees overhanging
this narrow, winding, lane
with its homes hidden behind intriguing garden gates.
Many of the woodland verges, like these running all the way through Shobley, where autumn’s brush-strokes are as yet barely adding seasonal colour, are now lined with posts placed to prevent parking of vehicles churning countryside vegetation. When Jackie drops me off for a photo foray in such an area she drives on and comes back for me – otherwise she would block the road just as the pigs were doing.
This evening we dined on roast lamb with crisp Yorkshire pudding and roast potatoes including the softer sweet variety; crunchy carrots; firm cauliflower, broccoli and Brussels sprouts; and meaty gravy, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Puglia Primitivo.
