I’m not a list kind of woman. Lists horrify me as they have a tendency to go on and on. Some mornings Danny sits down at the kitchen table and makes a list. By the time dusk has fallen several things on his list have been crossed off. Impressive.
I decided to do the same once. Danny was very enthusiastic. I added a handful of jobs that I had already done. I didn’t wait until dusk just crossed them off at lunchtime. He was stunned until he twigged that I hadn’t shifted from my chair.
In the past I’ve bought diaries and notebooks in a vain attempt to organise my time. They have been enthusiastically welcomed, received one or two entries and then forgotten. Leather bound books make great firelighters.
I used to remember all future dates in my head until one disastrous evening about 20 years ago. I was happily making cheese on toast when the phone rang. Bring, bringg, bringgg.
“We are just finishing off our cocktails and wondered if you’d forgotten our invitation…”
My mind whirled. Deep in the darkest shadows of memory the dinner party was lurking.
The problem was that this dinner party was in London and I was grilling supremo cheese on toast seventy miles away. I grovelled.
I was never invited again by this couple.
Forgetting the date was quite scary. My 20/20 mental diary and filing system had finally stalled.
Remembering the expensive diary firelighters, I didn’t rush out to buy another one. I now write very important dates on our calendar. Danny looks at this most days and has been known to mention pertinent events. My old brain sill remembers the invitations that D has agreed to in an exuberant wave of beer and bonhomie. These are carefully written on the calendar so need not be mentioned. Every few weeks there is a roar.
“We’re supposed to be dining with X at the weekend. Why? I don’t want to go. .I’m not sure that I like them. I’m too busy. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I told you last month and you wanted to go. It’s too late now to cancel unless you are ill. As they live 50 yards from here blowing them out means leaving your car in the drive for three consecutive days from today. No driving to the corner shop or even walking.”
D loves the ‘corner shop’ in the village. Gossip and Galaxy dairy milk chocolate.
After an endless pause.
“I think that I’m just fit enough to go, if you iron my shirt.”
Smiles all round.
Thank goodness I invested in a couple of non-iron classy Charles Tyrwhitt cotton shirts for Danny’s Christmas present last year. I don’t need a list to remind me to always have these laundered and hanging on the bedroom door, ready to go.
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