tiresome about getting old.
Always calling a spade a spade, I have become far more outspoken as I’ve got older. Although over supper tonight I asked himself if I had, he replied no, I’m pretty much the same. It certainly doesn’t feel it from this side, I ought to say! Perhaps it’s because I care more. A case in point was today, when an eagerly awaited joiner was arranged to come to hang doors and the beautiful oak framing for the glass wall and stairs. He had come along to see the job and said he couldn’t come until this Monday. Monday, came and went, this morning he phoned to say he was delayed and eventually turned up after mid day, Our builder wasn’t best pleased as a week had been wasted waiting for him. He took one look at what was expected and even I could see he didn’t want the job. I kept quiet while R gallantly put forward the plan of action. He ummd and aahd, giving lame excuses at every turn.
Still I kept quiet, until I just couldn’t keep schtum a nano second longer...
‘It is clear to me you don’t want to do the job so why don’t you just say so!’
He was out of the door before you could say tenon saw!
I wasn’t so worried about us. I was extremely angry on behalf of our wonderful builder who had moved heaven and earth to get us the best possible people.
This is just the tip of the iceberg of my disenchantment with the ageing process.