Not a good start to the week. We have several outings cancelled. One, the weather has turned the site into a bog. Two, the speaker is having a nervous breakdown. Three, the geologist fell over and is now propped up on two crutches. Not only me then, having a run of bad luck.
On the upside, I have taken a telephone call from the National Trust. They have apologised to me. Me! Well, it was as close to an apology as I was going to get, although it didn't actually contain the words I'm sorry. But the spirit and the tone were definitely there! Can you hear them, in the words I can offer an explanation which I know will not suffice but may go towards explaining how this situation does not normally occur.
Okay, but I'm considering this a bit of a success. Normally they show no understanding or tolerance, they just tell me off, take my ball off me, and kick me out their houses. (It's alright. I get my own back. I creep round the back of their estates and wee in their hedges.)
But thanks to that, I shall say that today was a success. I have to find something. I am in absolute agony with my skin, resemble a burns victim, and have begun to think deeply uncharitable thoughts about comfortable fat people who can drink beer and eat bread.
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