(Wednesday) Been to meet up with Ross, Pastor at Shenley Christian Fellowship, just to have a chat at Costa in Cotswold (the same building which used to be Borders Books.) Great to have his support and a good friend. I feel I have more support from church than I do from any of my family (Chloe and Steve excepted.) I have four brother, two older and two younger, and not a single phone call, email or letter to support me since Carol passed away, condolences or anything. I feel really upset that they've never been in touch. They probably didn't know my address, telephone number, email address or whatever, but I'm sure Chloe would have let them know so there's no excuse. It's not exactly difficult to get in touch, modern communication being what it is, what with mobile phones, email, text etc etc or even the use of telephone or old fashioned mail. Never mind. But I don't think it would have hurt to have some sort of communication from any of them.
Having left Cotswold, I drove to the carpark near the Xcape because I wanted to get the car valeted. I could have washed the car myself, but it's not that easy unless you have an outside tap with a hose attached, and I was more keen to have the inside of the car cleaned out, possibly with a vacuum of some sort, so, when I recently parked in that area I noticed the hand-cleaning business that was set up there. It cost the hefty sum of £28 to have the full works, the bodywork cleaned along with the interior and then a polish, even of the tyres and hubcaps, which now look as clean as you would get a vehicle if it came out of a showroom and even the interior looks sparkling. They put something, a spray, on the black plastic of the exterior, below the doors, and even the inside of the boot. I'm really pleased with the finish, and want to keep it that way. I sat on chair to watch and wait, and saw what they were doing and then needed the toilet (sitting and waiting for too long has that effect, unfortunately, part of getting older.) so I left them to their work and went into the nearby Xcape building and found the toilets upstairs near the cinema. I don't go into that building much, as I don't have much call to go in there, but I saw a shop which I may return to at some time in the not-too distant further, called Outlet. I think it sells end-of-season stock, mostly sport-related stuff, like trainers, shorts, swimming trunks, etc. I can always sport a bargain and wouldn't buy something at full price if I knew I could get it cheaper elsewhere. I have several items of clothing with the Regatta brand on, particularly a couple of fleeces, and I've bought most from their website and at really good knock-down prices, around 60%-70%. I have a couple of jackets, I think they term them softshell or something, the idea being that you can wear these in cold weather, with layers underneath, such as fleeces, but both these jackets have zipped pockets which means I can put my wallet in them, as well as keys, when I'm out and about, but they cost something ridiculous, around £25-£30, reduced from well over £75. I recently bought a pair of cargo shorts, those which have pockets in them, which are ideal for carrying around my mobile in, during the warmer weather, and I got them for less than £10, full price, over £30. Certainly not a bad bargain.
I went back to see the car being finished off. It had by now moved to the final stage, with the interior being vacuumed and the black trim being given a buff with a cloth and then I paid and drove round to park the car opposite where they had the car-cleaning business. I had paid for around 2 hours and wasn't going to waste my cash, so I walked into the shopping centre. I wanted to get a loose-bottomed cake tin (I know, go on, make a joke about it then, if you must. Like something out of a really low-brow 1970's comedy like 'Are You Being Served?" 'Excuse me, have you got a loose bottom?" etc etc I will explain, because I want to make a banofee cheesecake, and Delia Smith recommends using a 20 c.m. loose-bottomed cake tin to make it in so I went into Lakeland, the shop that sells all manner of equipment for the kitchen and general home items, and there was one, on the shelf, more or less exactly inside the door. So, duly paid for I walked to W.H.Smith to see if the latest edition of Current Archaeology is in on the magazine racks. It is, and decide to pay using the self-service till. I'm reluctant to use these machines, because, from experience I always have a problem, such as the thing being unable to read the bar-code of whatever it is I'm attempting to purchase. This machine worked well enough, but the voice it is given sounds as if it/she has a bad cold, or at least, got a bunged up nose, which I voice to the world in general, and got a most odd look from the young boy using the adjacent machine. Well, come on, why does the thing have to have a voice in the first place, and then, why make it sound as if it's got bronchitis or 'flu? Get Judi Dench or Dame Maggie to do the voice. At least it would be clear and distinct. Can you imagine the character Maggie Smith played in Downton Abbey doing that sort of thing? I can't remember her name. Wasn't she supposed to be Robert thingy's mother? The Dowager Duchess of Grantham? It would certainly make people sit up and listen and make shopping a good deal more interesting than you get from the dull, lifeless voice that you get on these machines. 'Please don't place your unknown item in the bagging area!' Would be fun if she was to do it. Sort of, 'Lady Bracknell sort of thing, if you get my meaning.
I had intended having lasagne for my evening meal and wanted to have salad with it. I wasn't going to drive all the way to Sainsbury's for just that, so I thought I' go into Iceland, which was on my way when I walked to the Xcape to collect the car which was parked nearby. I went into Iceland and found a suitable prepared salad in a bowl and then browsed around the store to see if there was anything suitable as a sweet to follow my lasagne. But on approaching the checkout there was but one lone woman on the till, and a large queue forming, so instead of wasting my time queuing for just the one item, I left the salad bowl and the basket nearby and walked out of the store. Unfortunately I had entered the store with a red T.K. Maax carrier bag which contained the Current Archaeology magazine and the loose-bottomed cake tin in it. As I made to exit, this somewhat officious security man approached me and said, 'excuse me, sir, may I see inside your bag?' which I thought a little presumptuous of him, because I most certainly had nothing to hide and it was plain that I had left the salad bowl behind in the store, near the checkout. He looked inside the bag and could see there was nothing from the store in the bag, and I walked away, not exactly over-joyed by this intrusion on my perfectly innocent visit to Iceland and it has to be said, left a bit of a bitter taste (metaphorically speaking) in my mouth. It would be quite obvious that they don't trust a 'certain element' in their store and if they'd only had more staff on the checkouts (out of six or so, only one in operation, when there was quite a considerable queue waiting.) So, it has rather put me off every shopping in Iceland again. I seem to remember when I lived in Bedford and used the local branch of Iceland near the bus station and the somewhat curt treatment (to put it mildly) I got from one particular checkout woman, who could be quite rude, so it would seem Iceland has a penchant for employing officious staff. If you didn't place your items correctly on her conveyer, you got a sort of nasal sound, or intake of breath which suggested 'Not there, young man!' Enough to put you off shopping in Iceland with that sort of behaviour from a member of staff.
I went back to see the car being finished off. It had by now moved to the final stage, with the interior being vacuumed and the black trim being given a buff with a cloth and then I paid and drove round to park the car opposite where they had the car-cleaning business. I had paid for around 2 hours and wasn't going to waste my cash, so I walked into the shopping centre. I wanted to get a loose-bottomed cake tin (I know, go on, make a joke about it then, if you must. Like something out of a really low-brow 1970's comedy like 'Are You Being Served?" 'Excuse me, have you got a loose bottom?" etc etc I will explain, because I want to make a banofee cheesecake, and Delia Smith recommends using a 20 c.m. loose-bottomed cake tin to make it in so I went into Lakeland, the shop that sells all manner of equipment for the kitchen and general home items, and there was one, on the shelf, more or less exactly inside the door. So, duly paid for I walked to W.H.Smith to see if the latest edition of Current Archaeology is in on the magazine racks. It is, and decide to pay using the self-service till. I'm reluctant to use these machines, because, from experience I always have a problem, such as the thing being unable to read the bar-code of whatever it is I'm attempting to purchase. This machine worked well enough, but the voice it is given sounds as if it/she has a bad cold, or at least, got a bunged up nose, which I voice to the world in general, and got a most odd look from the young boy using the adjacent machine. Well, come on, why does the thing have to have a voice in the first place, and then, why make it sound as if it's got bronchitis or 'flu? Get Judi Dench or Dame Maggie to do the voice. At least it would be clear and distinct. Can you imagine the character Maggie Smith played in Downton Abbey doing that sort of thing? I can't remember her name. Wasn't she supposed to be Robert thingy's mother? The Dowager Duchess of Grantham? It would certainly make people sit up and listen and make shopping a good deal more interesting than you get from the dull, lifeless voice that you get on these machines. 'Please don't place your unknown item in the bagging area!' Would be fun if she was to do it. Sort of, 'Lady Bracknell sort of thing, if you get my meaning.
I had intended having lasagne for my evening meal and wanted to have salad with it. I wasn't going to drive all the way to Sainsbury's for just that, so I thought I' go into Iceland, which was on my way when I walked to the Xcape to collect the car which was parked nearby. I went into Iceland and found a suitable prepared salad in a bowl and then browsed around the store to see if there was anything suitable as a sweet to follow my lasagne. But on approaching the checkout there was but one lone woman on the till, and a large queue forming, so instead of wasting my time queuing for just the one item, I left the salad bowl and the basket nearby and walked out of the store. Unfortunately I had entered the store with a red T.K. Maax carrier bag which contained the Current Archaeology magazine and the loose-bottomed cake tin in it. As I made to exit, this somewhat officious security man approached me and said, 'excuse me, sir, may I see inside your bag?' which I thought a little presumptuous of him, because I most certainly had nothing to hide and it was plain that I had left the salad bowl behind in the store, near the checkout. He looked inside the bag and could see there was nothing from the store in the bag, and I walked away, not exactly over-joyed by this intrusion on my perfectly innocent visit to Iceland and it has to be said, left a bit of a bitter taste (metaphorically speaking) in my mouth. It would be quite obvious that they don't trust a 'certain element' in their store and if they'd only had more staff on the checkouts (out of six or so, only one in operation, when there was quite a considerable queue waiting.) So, it has rather put me off every shopping in Iceland again. I seem to remember when I lived in Bedford and used the local branch of Iceland near the bus station and the somewhat curt treatment (to put it mildly) I got from one particular checkout woman, who could be quite rude, so it would seem Iceland has a penchant for employing officious staff. If you didn't place your items correctly on her conveyer, you got a sort of nasal sound, or intake of breath which suggested 'Not there, young man!' Enough to put you off shopping in Iceland with that sort of behaviour from a member of staff.
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