I could never in a million years have predicted the expense, time consumed and enormity of charges for telephone calls consumed by my having a small accident. I even had to call other numbers as those in the directory were now defunct and then even they didn't answer.
I have a very full list of activities every day it seems and need to work out a plan of action for weeks ahead, like today. I was supposed to visit a wonderful young man with whom I had an appointment, to investigate an area of supreme importance to me; the place of records. I was using his knowledge to trace my ancestors. Now I had previously spent a great deal of time in this adventure and now I was to have a whole new aspect opened up about my reprobate great grandfather. This young man had telephoned me with information that the old boy was known, also to him and apparently our family was united in the past. His great, great grandmother was a lady of the night and had been involved with the old man in some blackmailing. It's likely that they both were incarcerated in Newgate prison, but more to the point, were they successful . . . and where was the money.
Tuesday I had another meeting where I was to chair a committee making the decision as to whether the poet Wendy Cope would be available to attend a meeting for a reading of her latest poems, to be available hopefully for us, Various Verses, to read at the presentation to a very lively crowd; the U3A.
And how was I to make the coffee morning that always ran into lunch at the Westcliff hotel.
The patrol leaders are a lively bunch and we have heady discussions where the gossip and wit flows with quips and anecdotes in Music groups and Local History. It's amazing how much fun the walking group has, marching across muddy paths and tortuous stiles to catch a glimpse of the sea. Of course the secretary winces as she tries to keep up with her shorthand. I took the notes once and of course wrote free hand, then couldn't read my own writing on reaching home.
I have to attend court on Thursday, well it's the Magistrate's Court, where one always hopes the lady magistrate's hat will be knocked off by the local thugs reprimanded for throwing stones at bicycles or knocking off a policeman's helmet at the football. I attend to endeavour to find a story about this time: Prediction. So much easier if it was production, which reminds me, I have to attend a play reading on Friday. That is a riot especially when, as we are short of fellas and the ladies have to read the male parts; not only that but you may be caught in a clinch with that rather well built lady and have to go bust to bust.
Of course I always leave that particular class with a walk to the Cliffs and have a cuppa and a bun, just to get me the rest of the way into Southend to the shops.
Well it seems I cannot make any of these meetings as the whole basis of this missive was I had all this trouble applying for a new bus pass as I seem to have lost mine and it takes 10 quid, a new photo and five days before being replaced. Oh Bugger!