The road to hell

Can you believe it? After last week’s debacle (when the shunters at work said they would give me some help with my reversing, then didn’t, then had the audacity to ask me where I’d gone, after they had said goodbye to me at the clock machine) I really thought the shunters would be too embarrassed to not help me this weekend.

They said they would, one of them took my ‘phone number (as it has been my weekend off) then when I texted him today to make sure he’d not forgotten me he rang me back asking who I was!

I told him, and he said "oh, I’m off today."

He was off bleeding work, and presumably knowing this had taken my number.

Oh yes, bit cheesed off.

Then he suggested I ring work to try and get the other shunter. I rang my department to get one of the lads to see him for me, and got some gob-shite who gave me lip. I will be finding out who that was and putting them straight.

Anyway, when I got through to one of the lads he went to try and get the shunter for me. He came back with a message saying the shunter was too busy to talk to me.

Thanks a bunch chaps. I didn’t ask for them to help me, they offered. One of them is the union rep and was saying how he’d square it all with the management, the other was saying he was a fully qualified instructor. Their help would have been immensely beneficial to me. But if they didn’t think they could do it why offer? They may have had good intentions, but I wouldn’t be pissed off if they hadn’t made offers of help they couldn’t be arsed following up on.

I didn’t go to my Advanced Driving jobby today in case they called whilst I was out. I think the Sunday lesson of Taekwondo was off (being Easter) but I didn’t bother to check because it would have been for an hour and a half in the afternoon, the likeliest time for them to be able to fit me in.

Anywho, other than that I’ve had a splendid weekend off. Any time off work is splendid time, but this weekend was splendid-er. It was supposed to be wet and miserable according to the forecasts I heard. Friday wasn’t so clever, but Saturday and Sunday have been glorious. I’ve been out in my garden for hours and hours. I took my seed trays out for a bask on both days, bringing them in for the night. I kept trying to sit and have a relaxing brew, but as Jo so rightly noted it’s just not possible. The amount of cold brews I’ve remembered too late. But considering I’ve not spent a penny all weekend it has been great. I seem to have found endless jobs that needed doing, (often at the cost of hot brews) but it is so deeply satisfying that it’s never a chore. Especially at this time of year. It’s such and optimistic time in the garden. The worst is over, life is returning. The hardy vanguard of helibore and daffodil are waning to make room for the intermediate displays of tulip and fruit tree blossom. Whilst in the pampered seed trays in the spare room (oh for a greenhouse!) a dozen different types of flower are sprouting forth.

The silver lips of lilies virginal,

The full deep bosom of the enchanted rose

Please less than flowers glass-hid from frost and snows

For whom an alien heat makes festival

(Theodore Wratislaw, Hothouse Flowers, 1896)

In my garden it is especially exciting as half of the stuff that is coming up I don’t remember planting, so I wait and hope. Oft it’s but a weed, but how much more rewarding then when it is something beautiful.

Hmm, Wendy has just come up and mocked this entry. I defend to the death my right to wax lyrical in my own blog! I merely write as I the muse takes me, and in talking about the flora one tends to become florid. Perhaps it’s because when your involvement in the garden is looking at it through the kitchen window and offering ‘helpful’ suggestions, you don’t invest as much in it and therefore don’t get as much out of it. (That told her!)

Ruined my flow it has (and, strangely, put me in Yoda speech mode).

Toodles then,