It’s quite frightening to think about the ideas that I may have absorbed from Mummy.
The furniture was provided by a charity that helps vulnerable young people and ex-offenders when they move into a new home:
donated, mismatched things for which I was most grateful at the time, and continue to be.
It was all perfectly functional, so I’d never seen the need to replace any of it.
I didn’t clean the place very often, I supposed, which might contribute to what I could see might be perceived as a general air of neglect.
I didn’t see the point; I was the only person who ever ate here, washed here, went to sleep and woke up here.
This June Mullen was the first visitor I’d had since November last year. They come around every six months or so, the Social Work visits.
She’s my first visitor this calendar year. The meter reader hasn’t been yet,
although I must say I prefer it when they leave a card and I can phone in my reading.
I do love call centers; it’s always so interesting to hear all the different accents and try to find out a bit about the person you’re talking to.
The best part is when they ask, at the end, “Is there anything else I can help you with today, Eleanor?”
and I can then reply, “No, no thank you, you’ve completely and comprehensively resolved my problems.”
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