Sunday, 22 November 2009

How time flies...

When you're having fun... not.  For the best part of the last two weeks, I appear to have been in a time-warp.  Apparently I got up each day, did the things you do before appearing in public, went to work, came home, ate, recreated, slept and then did it again.  Apparently.  Anyway, my Ma and Lovely Hank will be appearing on Thursday night,  disgorged from the innards of a plane, here for two things - Ma's birthday (1st December), and early Christmas.

In the meantime, we cleaned, tidied, sewed, did personal maintenance items, visited the newly opened supermercato in our little town, went to a 50th Birthday party (happy birthday Sharon), took delivery of a package, painlessly, and not so painlessly did not take delivery of another package... wait, I have a question - is "took delivery of" an americanism?   Would the anglo-saxons reading this please pass judgement on whether there is another phrase I can use to say "a parcel was delivered"... thank you.  Now, where was I?  Oh yes, the non-painfree parcel delivery.  

Here's how it goes:  I ordered something which I consider to be very useful, but which others amongst you might go "what a waste of money".  The website was very clear that they would be delivered by courier.  OK, fine, but as you know, we are generally not in the Golightly house during the day, so the nice person leaves a card saying "you must ring to arrange delivery".  OK, so I ring and arrange.  And then, caught up in timewarp of work that I am, I forget to put the card on the door, so when the person comes back again, all they leave is another card.  Damn.  So then I ring up to find out when they can come again.

"If we have already made two attempts to deliver the parcel, we won't attempt to deliver it again".  

"Where does it say that on the card?"  "It's on our website Madam" [yeah right]

"OK, so can I pay you to deliver it to my house?"  "No".  "I can't pay you to deliver it?"
"No". [No wriggle room here, kids.  What fantastic customer service].

"OK, so can I hire you to collect it from, say, yourselves, and deliver it to my house?"  "Yes, but you have to pay upfront at this office". 

(Does anybody else see the problem here?)

"OK, can I pay by credit card, over the phone?"  "No, you have to pay cash upfront at the office".

"OK, let me see, this is the 21st century and you don't take credit cards?"  "No, cash or cheque up front".

"So, do you see my problem?  If I have to come & pay you to deliver it to my house, I might as well pick it up".   "You can collect it from us".

"I can collect it from you?"  "Yes".

"Where are you"?  "6 Hill Road, Sydney Olympic Park".  1.7 kilometres from the office I'll be sitting in on Tuesday.  10 minutes by car.

Honestly, I felt like the lunatics had truly taken over the asylum.  Yes, we can deliver it to your house if you come in & pay in cash for the delivery.  I swear to Ghod! 

On a happier note, I delivered the last of the Toy Bags to the lovely Kerrie:

and I've had an order from my WMIL* for 4 pouches, and this is what I chose:

and.. I made a tote bag for Miss Mandy's niece, my first go at one of these & it wasn't too bad - but I think the straps are a bit long... I got the pattern from here, and I had one of those funny moments where you get it all cut out & pinned and you think it's going to end up being 2 feet long & only 4 inches wide.  Then you realise you've got it pinned round the wrong way.  D'oh... Like the first time I made pyjamas - I thought I was going to have to chop 60 centimetres off my legs & add on 30 kilos, then I realised I needed to turn them round... funny.  Kind of.

It needs pressing, but it came out ok:

I lined it too.  Hope she likes it - I remember being incredibly fussy at 15 (and I still am!) but if Miss Mandy is her favourite Aunt, it might just slide past the 'cool' criteria'...

And last night we went to a friend's 50th birthday party - and MWH* dressed up, special like:

Isn't that an amazing outfit?  The trousers were Mr Golightly's University Graduation Suit from 1985, (that was the 20th Century), complete with, grass and rust stains, and a split up the back where he'd slightly, ever so slightly, grown just a little bit too big for them... the shirt was his father's from about 1970, with gorgeous embroidery, pockets, rust stains and the most incredibly pointed collar, and the jacket, "Mr Don", 100% woven polyester, thanks so much, was from an Recycled Clothing Store in Newtown.  Needless to say, as the party wasn't actually fancy dress, just "wigs and hats", he stood out like a peacock amongst the crows.  Stunning.  Oh, and the wording on the hat, I hear you say?

He's all class.


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