Today we had our weekly, more or less, family get-together on Zoom. Slightly alarmingly, everyone seems to be on a health’n’fitness kick. I’m not against this, obviously, but all the girls were talking about how far and for how long they run nowadays. I just kept schtumm. I mean, I don’t run and I never have – not as in, go for a run. I discovered that the reason was my congenitally dodgy hips when I was in my 50s, which at least explained why I was never as quick or nimble as I should have been and it’s comforting that Weeza can do it, as the condition can be inherited through the female line – that is, any of my children could have it but only Weeza’s children can get it if she has inherited it; which she seems not to have, and not my sons’ children at all.
This makes sense to me but then I know what I mean. Just shrug and move on, darlings, if it’s as clear as mud.
In other news, I bought new lavatory brushes. Ordered on Friday afternoon, they arrived today. Young Hadrian’s birthday present, which is a child’s Fitbit, also arrived – the children are very health and fitness conscious too. That could have turned up yesterday but I agreed all three items should go in one parcel. Sad as I am that Amazon holds sway, the fact is that the Fitbit website offered four working days’ delivery (with a bank holiday, that would have meant next Friday) or two (Wednesday) if I paid £8 extra. Amazon was £20 cheaper with next-day free delivery. Sorry. I do sometimes pay more to give the money to the company itself, but sometimes they don’t seem to deserve it.
Loo brushes, though. How boring is that? The top had broken off the one in the upstairs loo and it was one Russell already owned when we got married in 1973. The downstairs one has gone missing. No idea. That was one abandoned by his mother when she moved out in 1985. So it’s not really an outrageous extravagance. The puzzling thing, though, is that they boast mini tweezers in the handle. Why on earth do you need mini tweezers in a bog brush?