What a weekend it’s been. Yesterday we decided to get a dishwasher. Great, I thought, no more washing up. Surely that would mean less work ?
Err… no. Not at all.
Fitting the dishwasher in proved to be a nightmare, however I’ll get to that in a minute. Let’s hop back to Saturday when we’re on our way to B&Q (a DIY place for those who’ve not heard of it) to get the necessary plumbing bits. Emily suddenly decided she wanted a coffee. No problem, I thought – we’ll nip into McDonalds and get one.
“No, not McDonalds coffee, proper coffee.”
Emily likes her coffee, but it has to be the right coffee. Starbucks is fine, Costa Coffee is better. However, when you’re on your way to Cannock the options are limited. Cannock isn’t exactly the cultural capital of the UK. There’s a Costa Coffee in a local pub but it gets really busy on Saturday and it’s a “family” pub meaning that the queues can get quite long.
The alternative? Well, there’s a Costa Coffee on the M6 Toll services but there was absolutely NO WAY I was going to pay 3.50 just to drive 1 mile….
So we ended up at the services (another argument I lost) and we saw this Ferrari (as you do) parked up. Inside we bought our coffee and on we went to get the plumbing bits. 5.80 for coffee and 3.50 to get it.. Pffff….
When we got to the DIY store it became obvious that we could have a problem. Fitting the dishwasher in meant we needed to rip a cupboard out and then add some new flooring. This bit proved difficult because they’ve stopped selling the flooring we have. Instead we had to get some floor from “Floors 2 Go” which looked similar. We guessed how much we needed, then we compared it with the existing wood flooring and.. strangely.. it worked.
I have just – and I do mean JUST, finished. We now have a dishwasher and (amazingly) no leaks plus a new floor. I’m amazed that it’s all done and it looks brilliant. Woha! I’m proud.
Actually I’ve just got back from the petrol station. I use our local petrol station quite often. There appears to be a family running it – they’re all from India and nice enough fellas but there’s never really much in the way of conversation. Day after day after day after day the same few guys will be behind the counter. The conversation goes something like this..
“Pump number 6 please”
“Bye”
..and that’s it. This evening I was all prepared for the same routine. I filled up the car, walked in, held my card out and said, “Pump number 6”. But wait… there in front of me was a tall, blonde, swedish girl…
“Oh, you have a t-shirt on. You must be so cold yesh?”
… she said. I had to do a double take. I looked around for cameras, but no.. it seemed that this was real. Our local petrol station has a blonde swedish girl serving the fuel, and she’s chatty as heck….
“Are you not cold?”
“Er.. no.. I’ve err.. been ermm.. doing some flooring and stuff..”
“Oh so nice. You must be hot blooded though to be so hot on a cold evening?”
“Err…” (Gradually losing the ability to talk) .. “yeah..”
“Would you like a points card?”
“No, I’m OK thanks.”
“Oh, I have so many to give away. It is such a shame..”
What a weird weekend..