As that was in the Press this morning, I wasn’t entirely sure how the day was going to go.
It was one of those days with meetings in two places at once. Two batches of meetings, called by different organisations. Ordinarily I’d just prioritise and go, but I ended up in a communications tangle which I’m sure was sponsored by Monty Python.
On Wednesday, we were advised of three upcoming meetings with MPs. Dates and times were given. The first was was set down for this morning. “Venue is the Art Gallery auditorium. Please keep an eye on your emails the night before as arrangements can change at short notice.”
On Thursday night, this arrived. “Just to remind you about the briefing for Councillors next Tuesday 29 March at 9am, prior to the one mentioned below at 11.30am.”
A Homer Simpson moment. Sighed. “Subject: Re: National Controller briefings for elected members: Sorry for being thick but does that mean that this morning’s 915 is on or off?”
Response came back. “I’m not aware of it being off.”
Thought, Bugger. Still didn’t know – and there was another meeting across town at 9 which I should have been at too. Tried again. Went higher up the food chain. Asked, “Do we have our 915 at the art gallery? Xxx”
Answer: “No there are some landlines here but we are never here long enough to answer them. If you want me you can text me and I will ring too!”
I’m sobbing over my porridge at this stage, past caring. Visions of Fawlty Towers are dancing through my head. “Que?”
Thankfully our wonder woman Sarah has a sense of humour.
“hahahahahahahahaha I’m all hung up on phones as per the email below – Yes to your original question”
So I cycled to get briefed along with the big kids in the very big sandpit. I know my place in the scheme of things. That doesn’t stop me though. Elody Rathgen, my 7th form English teacher once gave me a badge which read “Question Authority.” I have done that ever since.
It was nice to have the chance to be briefed alongside the MPs, if for no other reason to observe that their personalities and behaviour don’t differ overly much from those of us lower in the political food chain.
Briefing finished, I got my flu jab. Dr Pink told us to yesterday – and we all need to unless we can’t. Our health this year is going to be so vital, and with cold homes and pooh in the river we need to take all the precautions we can. It doesn’t hurt a bit. Look – I’m smiling!
Leaving the Art Gallery, I was struck by its latest installation. I sort of hope it continues.
Poor St Elmo’s Courts won’t. I dumped my bike and grabbed my camera as the wrecking ball started bringing it down. Watched open mouthed for a good ten minutes – they’re so delicate the way they position the ball – like a sculpture in reverse. Tiny tap-taps and wee swings and then crash – it’s almost like watching Manny Pacquiao in the ring, precise, methodical, gentle and vicious all at the same time. Made me feel a bit sick, like watching a death by a thousand cuts. I took video – I’ll put it on my facebook page if you want to watch an execution.
As I biked home, a text reminded me I had a meeting at home this afternoon. Nothing like a challenge, and I had an hour to fill. Whipped up some fresh vegetable soup, toast, did my best impression of an earth mother – nothing like surprising people with a hitherto unknown skill.
Ran 10k with Pepper. Think I broke a new rule, something to do with motorways and the grass on the edge, but it got me to a new part of the Heathcote where I took pretty pictures of pooh going into the river just a k or so from my house. Want to see?
By the time I got home, the post had arrived. Rachel Hayward is a star, always has been. She was number 1 in our CGHS debating team. Naomi Edwards was #3. I was the filler in the middle – and we were a well oiled machine. (I know that for a fact, because Jim Hopkins told us so the weekend we beat Boys High in the Press Debating Competition, and that’s why Therese Minehan smiled as she gave me 4% for our history test the following Monday. In beating the boys, my more important civic duty had been done.) My Red Cross parcel from Rachel in the city that didn’t have the earthquake contained a card (beautiful), a block of chocolate (mother’s little helper) and two soldiers, one camo, one khaki. Rachel thinks the camo guy is cuter – the khaki one has eyes which are too close-set.
Rachel is correct, but unfortunately, the camo guy is now also a combat veteran. Kimmy and I have been having fun with soldiers this evening and as I’ve always known – it doesn’t take much to break one in.
It is 830 on a Friday night. My first post earthquake CCC agenda has just been hand delivered by a courier. I’m not going to open it. I’m got nesting to do and I have to find the superglue for the necessary field hospital triage. My agenda can wait til Sunday afternoon, which is when my work week begins. That, at least, is the plan.