The phone is ringing. I take no notice because the Sage will answer it (he has). I can be right by the phone and he’ll rush to get there first. Similarly, he adores the arrival of the post. Yesterday, the postman tapped on the door because something had to be signed for. Before I had a chance to get there, the Sage, still on the phone, had rushed out and had to tuck the phone under his chin, carry on two conversations simultaneously and take in the letters.
The signed-for letter was for me, by the way.
Oh, and it seems that the phone call is for me too.
Later, having finished the phone conversation
It seems to me to indicate a great optimism, when one still looks forward to the post, even after many decades of being a householder, when most of the correspondence – especially nowadays when letters are usually sent by email – comprises bills and other business stuff. In fact, yesterday we had the accountant’s bills and invoices from the Inland Revenue. We’ve paid both already. Why wait? I’ve come to the conclusion that waiting for the last minute before paying a bill is a bit pointless (obviously, all local tradesmen have always been paid by return anyway) and the pleasure of being out of debt outweighs any satisfaction in keeping the bastards waiting. But this is about the Sage … yes, he’s still so enthusiastic. I do enjoy that.
His enthusiasms carry him away sometimes, which can cause problems. I don’t quite know why he never talks to me first before getting into scrapes. Well, I do – if he thinks I might take the sensible route, he doesn’t ask me what I think. He’ll only tell me about what he is fairly sure I’ll approve. And I’m quite wacky enough, so there’s a whole lot of leeway, but there is a point at which I’ll say, in proper Norfolk fashion, “hold you hard, bor,” and that’s what he doesn’t mention and I’m generally left to sort out later in a way to embarrass him as little as possible.
On balance, though … a life more ordinary or one that can drive me up the wall?
Can one compromise?