The Sage is entirely adorable, and never more so than when he’s screwed things up.
He paid his car insurance, and a couple of weeks later, realised that his car tax was due and his insurance certificate had not arrived. He phoned, and was told that a replacement would be sent out at once, but it still hadn’t got here yesterday. “Never mind,” I said, “I’ll pay for it online; the DVLC are notified by the insurance company and you don’t have to produce the document.” The trouble was, he also hadn’t had a reminder for his car tax (what is it with the postal service?) and so he didn’t have the reference number. “what about the log book then, that’ll do?” He searched. He couldn’t find it. He tried to ring them, but the line was constantly engaged (no queue, just an engaged signal) from 4 pm yesterday and we concluded that the weekend had started early.
I tried to think where the registration document might be. “Where’s the MOT certificate?” I asked. He tapped his pocket. “Okay, where was it before you put it in your pocket?” He looked boyish. “I couldn’t find it, I got a replacement from the garage.”
Today, the replacement insurance certificate arrived, but the logbook still is nowhere to be found. He went to get an application form for a replacent…which will cost £25.
We’re working on the catalogue for the next sale. There are a few pieces from one seller which didn’t go in the last sale, which are being re-entered this time. The Sage was worried. Three saucers, but no matching teabowls. And two cream jugs were missing. He was still fretting about it when we went to bed. “Look,” I said. “We didn’t leave them behind in the saleroom and the owner didn’t take them away” (he’d phoned to check). “So they’re here. You just put them in a different box.” “But there was plenty of room in that box, so why weren’t they together?” “When you find them, you’ll remember why you packed them separately. They aren’t lost. You are careful and you would never lose a piece of china that belonged to someone else.”
This morning, of course, he found them. They were in a box that has divisions, in which they fitted perfectly; which is the reason they were there.
I love it when he’s fallible. He never complains when I lose or forget things but is pretty reliable himself – usually. It’s rather a pleasure to be the one to comfort him.