And tonight someone asked me for my address to send a cheque. The address that, with my name, is on the booking form that I emailed out 5 weeks ago and again yesterday. Honestly, darlings, one needs a bit of patience. Though I don’t get too fussed, usually.
I received a compliment this afternoon actually, from someone to whom I described the approximate form of the presentation I’m giving on Saturday (still haven’t got it done). She asked me what my job had been, evidently thinking that I used to do this sort of thing. I confessed that I’ve never had a proper job and I’m not trained for anything. Well, I say confessed, but it’s nothing I’m bothered about. As long as I’m not paid, I have nothing to prove. I do my best and if it’s not enough, I don’t mind being told. Anyway, she was surprised, which surprises me somewhat, as I very much admire her abilities – she can do what I can’t, effortlessly. I just bluff well.
Things seem to be going a bit awry this evening, after a good day. I’ve had a really quite snotty email – dictated to her husband, apparently – saying that she doesn’t see why she should have the burden of sending me a lecture report form. Okay, fine, I don’t mind – why does she feel the need to be rude to me about it? I have the feeling that she thinks I’m paid for this job (and, as I’m an underling, she’s entitled to be high-handed). In my mild-mannered reply, I’ve mentioned that I’m a volunteer too.
Also, I’ve had an email from Bod, Wink’s fellow. They would like me to go on holiday with them in November, and Bod has been enthusiastically making arrangements. A couple of days ago, I reminded him that we’ve got an auction on the last Friday in October and I’ve got work to do after that, so if he wanted to leave that weekend, I needed to see if I could fit in. He seems to have said that he’s booked a flight from Gatwick, leaving before noon on Sunday 31st. I can’t possibly do that. Sunday train services are dreadful from here to London and one is always bussed part of the way. Then I’d have to get across London and over to Gatwick, by about 9.30. Did I mention on a Sunday? I very clearly said a couple of days ago, let me know the arrangements and if I couldn’t fit in, I’d say so. If he’s booked, I won’t be pleased.
Anyway, I had been feeling all cheery and relaxed. I’m not, quite so much, now.