Since the start of the month 'the font' has been suggesting that we ( note the 'we' ) give up wine for a month. This act of self denial will supposedly be good for my health. Something to do with giving the liver a rest. Thanks to the stress generated by the blocked septic tank and the fuel leak from the Range Rover implementation of this ridiculous suggestion has been successfully delayed. Tonight there will be champagne. After that I will need to dream up some new excuses for prevarication. The most obvious is the upcoming Scotland / England game in the Six Nations. No way can that be watched without the help of a bottle of Bordeaux's finest.
As we're never in London it seemed sensible to let out the flat. The tenants an Australian couple. He something 'big' in a bank. She floral suited and seemingly jovial. This morning at six am , an e-mail :
Dear Sir: I am greatly disappointed to note that 1) There is a chip in the rim of one of the champagne glasses 2) there is one less egg cup than recorded in the inventory and 3) there are smear marks on top of the air conditioning vents in the hallway. I very much hope these matters can be resolved amicably.
This missive is forwarded onto the cleaners. Four busy and deeply devout Irish ladies from Sligo. They arrive at the flat, en masse, twice a week. What they will make of this woman standing on top of an eight foot ladder peering into the ventilation ducts remains to be seen. Must be some form of OCD. Wilfs attitude to the e-mail : " We have two ears and one mouth so that we can listen twice as much as we speak ".