2008 — 26 September: Friday
It's 15:30 or so. I'm back from the Midlands (via Rushden) with another 468 miles tucked under my seatbelt. In the midst of life, it seems, this is the season of funerals. One bright spark: the dentist's prediction of the likely cause of all the pain has so far proven accurate, and the antibiotics are going down without hassle. I was invited to pick out a trinket as a memento of my late aunt, and selected a glass paperweight I'd actually given to her well over 40 years ago. Christa would have been tickled, I think.
She'd have been somewhat less tickled to see that Toyota have just invited her to bring her new Yaris in for its 10,000 mile service — I have separately informed five "bits" of Toyota regarding her death, in some cases more than once. Each has apologised and promised to update their records. None has yet succeeded. Still, they look forward to "being of service" to her in the near future.
I can clearly picture her choice of expression (by which I mean both the look she'd deliver and the phrase she'd use). I would not like to be on the receiving end.
Cream-crackered
I've been back a little over eight hours, but am now going off to collapse and sleep. I'm exhausted.