The Landlady needs more time in her day
I know it sounds weird and possibly slightly anal, but I’m used to my routine of relaxing at 6pm with a glass of wine and the news. Now that I’m working on the Pier many nights of the week until at least 7pm, my routine has been interrupted, meaning my life has become completely out of kilter. After a little thought, I came up with the idea of using ITV+1 when I get in, meaning I can stick to my usual routine, only an hour later than it actually is, fooling me into thinking it’s the same time as usual. Are you confused? Well, it’s working for me, at least it was until the night the clocks turned back, when it is really 6pm when it was 7pm, leaving me stranded and wondering where the hell Coronation Street had disappeared to…
“Using ITV+1 is working for me – at least it was until the night the clocks turned back”
More confusingly still (for me at least), I’m now in Turkey again in order to furnish my new cottage. When I flew out it was definitely 9pm when it’s 7pm. When I come back, because the clocks will have gone back in the UK, it will be 9pm in turkey and 6pm in the UK. Aargh. Bad planning or what?
I would be writing this column on the flight but I am travelling out with an ex-pat, who has a house in the same village as mine and for whom talking (mainly about himself) is tantamount to an Olympic sport. I shall therefore not have the time to write on the plane, which is what I generally tend to do on planes in order to pass the time.
When I return from Turkey, as well as my two jobs on the Pier and at The Supermarket, I have agreed to paint mine and Katy’s flat in Hastings. We went there in the driving rain last Friday in order to buy paint and horrible, ominous stuff like sandpaper, at a cost of £120. We measured the kitchen and looked at appliances in Curry’s. We then looked for a greasy spoon in order to have egg and chips, but could not find one anywhere and had to eat in one of the new, terribly posh cafés on the seafront, where Katy virtually had to practically beg the proprietor to fry her egg, rather than poach it. Later, in London, we spent £60 in Wagamama and a further £50 in a wine bar. While a little tipsy, we then booked flights to Turkey for me, Katy and her husband, all paid for from our joint account. There is now not enough money left to buy the kitchen. Sad times…
