There are 38 steep steps and 3 sharp bends leading to my apartment, and two doors to unlock, so it's a major operation going up and down even if I'm not carrying anything. Yesterday, I was grateful for my back and knees as I navigated my friend's enormous suitcase down to ground level. If he'd had to do it on his own he may still be here. We took a leisurely walk to the bus station. "I want a seat where I can stretch my legs," he said. I told him they were all assigned and he had a seat where he could put his legs into the aisle. He then asked the driver if he could sit on the front seat so I reminded him again it had been assigned to someone else. That someone turned out to be an elderly nun who asked if she could sit somewhere else. My friend was over the moon when he said she could have his seat. After two attempts to climb into the vehicle he managed to settle into the front seat, beaming broadly. He said I was his lucky mascot. I didn't have the heart to tell him there was more leg room at his original seat.
I was so relieved to be able to walk to the shop at my normal pace; if there's one thing that's guaranteed to tire me out is having to walk at someone else's pace. It must be from the years I spent galloping through Doncaster, heading to the railway station from the bus terminal and always worrying that I might miss the train to work in York.
I had one of those absolutely selfish days when I had to think of no one but myself. I settled down to read a book I've just downloaded from my Canadian library. It's put together by Simon Mason and is a collection of writings by an apparently famous writer called Philip Pullman - a man I've never heard of. I think it's going to be very interesting.
His first story is about the art of writing. When I met the leader of the dental group he told them all that he knew nothing at all about me but thought I must be a teacher. He said my emails never had any spelling mistakes, there were paragraphs and good grammar. His lady friend added, "And he always puts two spaces after a period!" I learnt this "rule" in 1954 when I learned how to type. For those who haven't a clue what I'm on about, the rule says, "After anything with a full stop/period you should leave two spaces, i.e. for a period, question/exclamation mark and for a colon. For anything including a comma one should leave one space - i.e. for a comma or a semi colon." Now you know and I shall be watching for changes in your emails.
I should have been quite chuffed but it's made me a bit paranoid and now I check everything before sending it out. In this book I was confronted with the difference between "may" and "might". The author's example was, "Britain may have lost the war" is different to "Britain might have lost the war." He said people use them as if they are the same, when they aren't. So, do you give any thought as to when you use 'may' or 'might'? Now that I have to think about it, I haven't a clue what I say; I just open my mouth and something comes out.
If you aren't interested in the difference then skip this bit. "May" means something is possible and factual. "Might" means it's hypothetical, remotely possible or counter factual. So now you'll be able to impress your friends when you use the words properly - sadly, I don't think they will notice.
A bit later on he started on about "bored with", "bored by" and "bored of". He lost me. All I learnt is that "bored of" is a new addition and it's very popular. I must be a dinosaur as I don't think I've ever been bored of anything.
Samnang didn't come over to cook so I was able to eat what I wanted and when I wanted. When I'm with others, meals have to be at certain times; I love to be flexible and I eat when I feel like it. I ended my totally selfish day by watching "The Plantagenets" on YouTube. I was quite pleased with myself that I already knew that it came from Latin and meant 'yellow flower' which was the symbol of that family of nobility. I didn't know that the blind King of Bohemia was led into battle by his knights who held onto the reigns of his horse. The poor man was killed. The Prince of Wales noticed that an ostrich feather had fallen from the King's helmet and he picked it up and stuck it in his own helmet as a sign of admiration and respect for the blind king. Since that time, the feather has been the emblem of the Prince of Wales - so there!!
