Do or Di

Tim is home, bringing fresh stocks of Soan Papdi but having been bewildered by the choice of chillies at the Exotic Supermarket, so we’ll have to manage with the last half jar of chilli relish for a while – I sympathise, I’d have been the same.  He has brought cumin seeds though, which is jolly good as I use a lot of them.  They were in tonight’s kedgeree, for example.

In the meantime, I ventured out in the driving seat for the first time.  It was always going to be fine, I’m completely over the operation and can stand on the operated leg without hesitation – I could hop on it, I’m sure.  I had some cheques to pay into the bank on the way, and that proved interesting.

They pass each cheque through a machine that reads it, nowadays, as you’ll know.  And, if you ask, give you a receipt.  I had three cheques and two of them were reasonably sizeable, so the teller offered to itemise them on the receipt.  “Oh!” she said.  “This cheque is for £2,000 but the scanner has read it as £200.”

Well, it was all right of course, she cancelled it and put them through again, but it was a bit alarming all the same.  If I’d been in a hurry and said not to worry about the receipt… I told LT about it this evening.  “Jesus wept!” he said blasphemously, though not as blasphemously as my father who added a few words to that quotation that were funny but unrepeatable.  “And they’re planning to eliminate human error by giving us driverless cars.”

And then I drove to Norwich for lunch with my friends, which included Roses on this occasion, and I had gammon and bread-and-butter pudding, and it was good.  My elderly friends whom I usually pick up were unwell – that is, the 93 year old sister was unwell and Lilian didn’t want to leave her, so I drove alone.  That was not entirely a disadvantage.  Lilian is one of those who gives a running diatribe about how much better things were in the Good Old Days.  I’ve written about her before, probably here, certainly on Facebook.  Two Christmases ago, I asked what they were planning to do over the holiday.  “We’re going to die,’ said Lilian. “Say that again, darling?” said the startled Z.  “We’re going to Di.”  “Oh, lovely, do give her my love.”

One comment on “Do or Di

Leave a Reply to Glenda Cancel reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

 

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.