Friday brought yet another early rising for me. That made 4 out of 5 days when I was up and about like the proverbial early bird. Retired gentlemen should not be subjected to all this stress. I began to conjecture that perhaps I was not making full use of the sprung edge divan with 4 drawers and Miracoil mattress.
Following the promising email from Messrs Marks & Spencer I set off to the metropolis of Preston. I spurned using my old gits bus pass since lugging a defunct breadmaker on public transport was not my idea of fun. Scraping together some loose change for parking fees from my meagre pension I set off in the car. My arrival at the M&S Emporium, lugging the deceased appliance caused some confusion. The Returns Desk politely pointed me in the direction of the IT Department since they classed the dead dough machine as technology. At the IT desk they were about to refer me, politely of course, to the Returns Desk when they saw the look on my face. I had adopted the look and posture of an exhausted gentleman of a certain age. Now this was not entirely an act since toting a breadmaker which was dead as a dough dough (sorry!) does somewhat fatigue one. The IT man was perplexed since the store in particular had never stocked breadmakers and the appliance in question was not now stocked by M&S in general. At one point he had every terminal on the desk engaged as he delved ever deeper into the Marks & Sparks computer system. I had thoughtfully provided details of the purchase as shown on my customer account which he gratefully accepted and asked if he could retain. At long last he struck gold and before I could say Hey Presdough a full refund was made!
Before I ventured into the big city I had optimistically ferreted out the replacement and, being a poor pensioner, the cheapest price. Within minutes of my return home it was ordered and I was pleased to note immediately shipped for delivery. My need for a decent crust was now in the hands of the Royal Mail.
This was the first day that I was not waiting for someone to call to collect or deliver so I was able to enjoy a relatively leisurely lunch. In the evening I ventured out for a spot of culture at the Bridgewater Hall, Manchester. Thanks to the evil Transpennine Express I had to leave shortly after 5pm in order to catch my connection at Preston. Decanting from the train there I became aware of a larger than normal number of ticket inspectors - hordes of them in fact. They were backed up by a similar number of the constabulary. In the space of 10 yards I had my ticket checked 3 times. As I had to kick about the station for 30 minutes thanks to the evil Transpennine etc. I decided to stand outside the main entrance and partake of a cigarette. This involved yet another ticket check. By now I was beginning to feel as if I ought to be guilty of something or other. This feeling was heightened by the sight of a large Police vehicle marked "Dog Van". I made a mental note not to pat any Alsatians. In all this coming and going not one of the police paid any attention to motorists and private hire cabs filling every parking space clearly marked for the disabled. On my return much later that night I spoke to a train driver and asked him what had been going on. He said it was just a random check that they carry out at the station to prevent trouble. Now I may be missing something here but I'd have thought that 5.30pm when most travellers are simply going home from work was not the most likely time for trouble to kick off. When the Manchester train came in it was already full and an equal number of people boarded it. Which fool decided that most cross country trains would only run in 3 coach sets? During the day they are half empty and at peak times they are like cattle trucks. Perhaps one day customer care will triumph over train company logistics
The concert featured the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra and was broadcast live on Radio 3. The early 7pm start and a programme of not widely known works attracted a sadly meagre audience so we were asked to be generous with applause. I'm pleased to say that my hearty clap was broadcast to the nation. We enjoyed a nice piece by Elgar followed by the Saint-Saens piano concerto "Egypt" There wasn't much Egyptian about it but that's the French for you... The last piece was William Walton's Symphony No 2. Technically brilliant and very loud but not to my taste. My slightly lapsed veggie concert going pal liked it but he likes a bit of discord. The early start meant that for once we were afterwards able to enjoy a few leisurely gills of excellent Cumberland ale at the "Briton's Defence". A pub so wonderful that I'd sleep with it. The evening was marred yet again by the tardy arrival of the Transpennine "Express", a misnomer if ever I saw one. My connection slot at Preston was only 10 minutes so I was more than a little angry at the 15 minute delay. Thoughts of arriving back at Chez Kojak at 12.45am did nothing to sooth me. When I had the temerity to ask the conductor the reason for the delay I got a cursory "We were late in" I remarked that I'd be even later in and received the caring response "Nothing we can do about it" In the event I made my train by 30 seconds after the fastest trans-platform dash I have ever made. Almost faster than Transpennine Express. Just as well that no-one stopped me 3 times to check my ticket. Oh, and at a time when most passengers were travelling home after a night out in town and probably several drinks there was not a policeman in sight...
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