Escape

Today has been a day of escapes, both attempted and successful. Nana is due to escape hospital tomorrow, having passed the "please walk up these stairs" test with flying colours.* Somebody escaped at work. I don't think anyone I know died.

Actually, it has hardly involved any escaping at all; it would appear that my escape preoccupation makes me a little preoccupied with the whole escape thing. Funny things, preoccupations. And yet I do not appear to be near to escaping. I'm scarcely getting any closer to attempting to do so.**

On the plus side, I have acquired a lovely little cabinet to put my soap-making supplies in. This will clear my current soap cupboard to take my climbing equipment and all of the assorted crap which sits in that corner of the front room. I should be able to bring it home on Monday, all being well. It has wheels, which are very important for items expected to sit still for years at a time. The cabinet is bad news for the little octagonal table made by HWSNBN's relative, which sits just where I want the cabinet to go. Actually, this table is protected by local bye-laws (is that how you spell it? If not, should I be modifying my spelling to conform to yours, or do you not know how to spell it either? This is a bit useless - in the age of the Internet, you'd have thought I would have the initiative to run a quick Google search. But I do not. Does that tell you anything interesting about me? Not really); otherwise it may have been removed many years ago. It is exceptionally useful for putting Christmas trees on, but just gets in the way most of the rest of the time.

The other good news is that I get to stay in Louise's bed tomorrow night. This is good because I think the parents prefer her to me; they showed their love by buying her a rather superior bed. I believe that they are also putting the heating on in anticipation of my visit. I should really be going to Louise's 21st birthday party in London instead, but I am not. Hey - I don't even have the initiative to perform a Google search - what chance do I have trying to find free accommodation in London? I shall wish her a happy birthday from afar. I'm not on the guest list, anyway.****

I still don't know who is vicaring***** on Sunday, nor who is choosing the hymns. I meant to get onto that today (and yesterday), but was too busy. I better hadn't be too busy tomorrow, or I shall have a very stressful time on Sunday morning. Also embarrassing, when they realise that practice doesn't actually improve my playing at all, and I may as well just sightread the whole lot. Actually, they may have worked that out already.



*She asked if they'd like her to walk up another flight.

**No, this is not some sort of suicide metaphor.*** That would be stupid. Is it bad that I thought that it looked like one? Whatever. Face? Bovvered?

***Or even non-metaphor. Leave me alone - I'm tired.

****Because I didn't say I was coming. Nothing sinister.

*****My spell-checker seems to think that this is a real world. This makes me sad - I thought that it was one of mine. Does it mean what I want it to mean, I wonder? Is it a neo-thingummy? Oh, but Blogger does not think that it is a word. Vi caring is, apparently. Well, two words. Whatever.