Friday Bleatings

Today I am mostly:


Wondering where the man in the navy blue polka spotted tea dress with matching converse trainers and white ankle socks was going when he rushed past me at lunch time. 


Pondering the reason why everyone under the age of 25 is attempting to dye their hair silver grey when I am fighting a constant battle to drive back the 'white roots of doom' so that I don't look as though I have a) a white halo or b) bald patches. 


Laughing at the note on the Pret serviettes which says:  "This napkin is 100% recyclable, but if Pret staff get all serviette-ish and hand you a huge bunch of napkins (which you don't need or want), please give them the evil eye.  Waste not, want not."


Keeping my fingers crossed that the washing machine behaves itself over the weekend.  Last night (at 11pm) I had a 'washing machine incident' which involved a baking tray, a washing up bowl, a mop and much sweariness.  And my clothes for today were locked inside.  Sopping wet.  And no, I couldn't wear something else.  Luckily I was a domestic goddess in the absence of Lovely Man (who had rather selfishly taken himself off to work.  After draining the machine I ungunked a very gunked up filter.  Not one of the nicest things I've ever had my finger in.


Wondering if the aged parent's second cataract operation will be first on the list tomorrow morning so we can get home at a reasonable hour of Saturdayness.  We have to be there for 8am.  I didn't know there were two 8 o'clocks on a Saturday.


Is it gin o'clock yet?