Lost in Woking

I still had some clearing up to do – mainly washing up some nice dishes that won’t go in the dish washer. Unfortunately the spout broke off my posh teapot yesterday – not, thank goodness, as I was pouring tea out, but in the kitchen, when I'd given it a minor tap. M has repaired it, but I will inspect before bringing it out. The whole point of it is that it’s a nice china pot. If it has a circle of glue round the spout, it no longer qualifies as posh.

I also spent time investigating a blockage in my Dyson. There are wispy little spiders around the house determined to leave the largest possible cobweb and when I tried to vacuum one of these webs, I found there was no suction at all. M was very impressed – he assumes all women are impractical. I dismantled it completely and looked through every tube, cleaned away surplus dust from all other parts and then reassembled it. And now it’s fine. It’s a matter of pride with me that I can deal with such things. I even bought my own tool box and Phillips’ screwdriver, but M discovered their whereabouts and frequently borrows them.

Having spoken on the phone to my daughter, I was given permission to get another present for Eve. I had scoured Guildford for Barbie clothes to no avail, and nearly everything I’d bought for her came under the category of boring, practical, clothes (for Eve that is, not Barbie). M offered to take me to Woking this afternoon. I thought he would park the car and walk to the toy shop with me, but he wanted to drop me off and drive round in circles until I’d finished. Under sufferance, he eventually came with me. You can’t get lost in Woking, because there are only a few roads around a central area. BUT you can certainly get lost in the Peacocks’ car park. We parked in the wrong colour, walked out of the car park to get to Toysarus and then having bought a jigsaw, couldn’t find our way back to the yellow car park. We went round in circles, up and down stairs, not enhanced by the aroma of public lavatory, and eventually asked someone and followed them to safety. This enforced M’s conviction that he hates shopping and he hates car parks and confirmed my feeling that I am much happier shopping in Guildford.