For this week’s Friday Photo, I present the evidence of the one and only time in my life when I was persuaded that dungarees were an acceptable item of clothing. Of course, I didn’t call them “dungarees”. No, to me they were, and forever shall be, “dongledees”. (“Dong’el’deez”). To this day, I have a deep and abiding mistrust of anything that looks even remotely like it could be related to the “dongledee” family. Hey, I wonder why?
In other news, the gym called. They wanted my membership card, my free towel and a written undertaking to never whine about them on the Internet again. Nah, I’m just kidding – although this would possibly be a much more interesting post if they had. No, the gym were doing one of their regular “user surveys”, and let me tell you it COULD NOT HAVE COME AT A BETTER TIME. Terry took the call, and I could see from the panicked glances he was casting in my direction that he was thinking, “Oh God, what have you said in your blog this time?). But it was all good. In fact, the manager who called us said there had been other complaints about the “pool full of kids” things, and that this is something that tends to happen any time there’s any influx of new members, which there has been after new year, as everyone makes resolutions to get fit, lose weight, and leave their offspring in the middle of the fast swimming lane while they lounge in the spa.
Anyway, the woman said the gym are going to “take steps” to resolve the situation, and hey, you know, “steps” are all I ask. So basically Amber – 1, The Gym – 0. Even although I didn’t actually do anything other than whining in my blawg.
In yet other news, our house is still standing after the Watergate affair, but I’m not sure how much longer that’ll last. The huge crack o’doom in the ceiling (or ‘Mount Doom’ as I like to call it) had widened, and also bulged, giving every appearance of being about to fall down or heads at any seconds. The wood floors in the hall and living room, meanwhile, are slowly rising UP to meet the ceiling (Terry says no one else but me would even notice this, but I think not. And also: don’t care, I want it fixed.). Everything else, including me, Terry and the dog, is just permanently coated in a thick layer of dust, which is replenished every time Terry goes to the bathroom and begins knocking more tiles off.
I was trying to clean this dust up as we went along, but I started to feel like I was fighting a losing battle with that one so recently I, er, just haven’t been bothering. I’m not much liking this “2008” business AT ALL, to tell you the truth…