What a chock-a-block week! English please, some of you might be asking. I’m afraid it is and for all I know it could be American English, too. These days I am bilingual, but I do occasionally lose the plot where separation of the two languages is concerned.
The point is that this week has been crammed with all sorts for me, especially blunders. Actually, it’s been a bit of a comedy of errors.
Starting out on Monday, I arrived early for a weekly appointment in Knightsbridge that I might go to the local Waitrose beforehand. For some reason, I stopped by Ottolenghi first to get breakfast. Normally, it is the other way around.
At Waitrose, I found myself juggling coffee, a shopping basket, a bag for life, and my handbag. No wonder while deciding on spinach, I somehow leaned the basket against the broccoli. The comedy began.
The little vegetable guy, whom I have never seen, albeit it I know a few staff in this store, grabbed my basket, and told me I was damaging the broccoli! What could I say, I was guilty as charged, but so taken a back at his forwardness, I went into a tug of war with him over my basket and finally shouted:
“Let go of my basket!”
A gasp of silence followed and I got my spinach and fled, but not before paying for it.
Then on Tuesday, the comedy continued with train travel. Though I left plenty of time to make an 11.00 meeting in Covenant Garden, I was late because as I stood on the platform, my train arrived on another without any warning or explanation from the staff. In the first instance, I sort of knew it had to be the Waterloo train. Trains to other destinations travel in the opposite direction.
And after checking the board, I deduced that the Waterloo train had come and gone. But it was likely a fluke, right. Wrong, because in five minutes or so another train arrived at the wrong platform, though crowds of us waited on the usual platform.
Quick thinking led to a few of us running down the stairs and up the stairs to just miss the train. Then the platform closed, according to the notice board. Back to the other platform I went along with several others.
After seven minutes or so, another train came to wrong platform, but this one was rolling fast and didn’t stop. Whew! Still, about three minutes later, another train approached the wrong platform with obvious intent to stop. Cleverly this time, I struck out early and made it in the nick of time. Off towards Waterloo we went without a word from anyone.
As comedic as it gets, right. Not really because on Wednesday, I drove to Hertfordshire for the day. Though I have been a passenger on this route several times, I didn’t pull it off as smoothly as I would have thought, as a driver. Let’s say I missed a critical turn in London, giving my satellite navigation system an opportunity to send me on a tour of local London and Hertfordshire, too.
Thank goodness for the Easter break or I would have surely been more than fifteen minutes late, caught up in rush hour traffic.
Speaking of Easter, the break starts tomorrow for me with Good Friday. And as the business day comes to a close, I’m thrilled that the comedy of errors is behind me. And if it isn’t, the work most certainly is, at least until next week.