So, first thing I see this morning is the news that Tine is leaving The Boonaraaas. Quite a bummer but these things happen so I'll be posting the vacancy in the hope that it'll help them find a replacement toot suite. In keeping with getting oneself into the proverbial fankle, I head downtown to stop at the docrors surgery and then to the post office to mail my Gaff donation. The place was bloody queued out the door. This is indicative of trying to access any such service and sure evidence that the early bird can sing for a bloody worm.
Fast forward an hour or so and I go to read the electricity and gas meters and find that the gas one's l-e-d's are gubbed. Hoping this won't be the start of another round of hassles with the supplier, the fault was duly reported but who even approaching their right mind would trust these people?
And the icing on the cake, I figured it was time to donate a pint of blood. Putting aside my utter hatred of the venue, I venture over to find that it's not all running smoothly. Not at all. But anyway, wishing to have the blood taken and to get out of there - a modicum of patience was summoned and I make it to the bed. Only to have the person who puts in the tube make an utter lady's front bottom of it. So now I'm gonna have a technicolour forearm into the bargain. Joy of joys. So, note to self - make an appointment at the proper donor centres in either Glasgow or Edinburgh in the future. The evil spirits that inhabit the "Sports Complex" won't get their chance to screw me over twice.
So here's an admission - I may have been better off going to work today. Nurse - the screens and the padlocks!
I look forward to the remainder of this day passing without further incident but you never know...