On the Fifth Day

I got 5 Cold Calls.

My mobile phone may be an obsolete model but I like its art deco styling, besides I've only just worked out how to use it so I certainly don't want a free upgrade with 450 minutes and 2250 texts, camera, radio, body fat counter and digital tape measure for the knockdown price of Fifty Quid a month. My ten pound top-up voucher lasts me almost 6 weeks.

My house is already fully double-glazed, with a perfectly good fitted kitchen, power shower and conservatory. I could do with some plaster boards for the garage, and perhaps a lorry full of silicone sealant but the gentleman didn't seem keen to offer me that on a buy half, get the rest done free on a buy now, pay later at 33% compound APR basis.

A holiday in Florida would be wonderful but I don't recall ever entering the competition I had purportedly won. It would be nice to have somebody else making all the travel arrangements, as Brad, the Marketing Director, offered to do if I would just give him all my credit card details so he could confirm my flights without having to bother me but I've already used up this year's annual leave entitlement and have to save enough next year to fit in Budapest, Florence and a short break somewhere with an exotic young chap from a neighbouring county.

I subscribe to Gardeners World, BBC History and Delicious magazine, buy a Sunday paper every week that takes me the next 5 days to get through, receive regular publications from the National Trust, English Heritage, the RSPB, Lincolnshire Wildlife Trust, British Conservancy Trust Volunteers, Cruse, Tesco Food/Wine Club and the Annual Screw-Fix catalogue, actually addressed to the previous occupant and not the least bit as interesting for a single girl who might want to get nailed as the title might at first suggest and have enough books to last me through the next 3 months of long dark nights. I do not need a WatchTower.

My life might well be enhanced by a handy plastic tool that clips easily onto a worksurface without the need for any permanent fixing and de-lints my cooker-hood/brussel sprouts/ tongue with 3 simple twists of the interchangeable colour-coded extendable ends but I already have more than enough crap, thanks largely to Marko who brought me a lovely little terracotta patterned butter mould set to accompany the jam funnel and electric pineapple corer last weekend. The lady from Kleenaware or Bettereze or whatever it's called was lucky to get her unsolicited catalogue of crapola back, surely she couldn't have expected a polite but firm rejection too.