More junk mail

I had a follow-up phone call from a representative of the company that sent me the mobility scooter bumf. Had I received it? Would I like to arrange an appointment to talk about my requirements? He seemed rather nonplussed when I told him what I'd done with his catalogue. He said he'd take me off his database - we'll see.

Meanwhile, amongst today's offerings was a flyer from some local estate agents offering me the world. They are concerned about me: 'Are you about to loose [sic] your dream home?' I'm tempted to ring them and say that should I ever have a cottage in Northumberland that I plan to release back into the wild I'll let them know. They have also used commas in place of apostrophes. Good grief.

Then and now

I can't settle until the postman has been. He brings me something most days, even if it is only junk mail, but I do enjoy the satisfying rattle, plonk of a letter being delivered. However, this morning's post has been particularly disappointing. It isn't me that has a significant birthday in a few weeks' time, but that hasn't stopped Forever Active sending me a personalised catalogue about mobility scooters. Five wheels are better than four, apparently. There was even a DVD included so I could see the latest machines in action. Er, no thanks. The whole lot is going back in an unstamped envelope.

My Mum I were thumbing through some old photo albums over the weekend, laughing at hats worn at weddings and remembering friends and relatives no longer with us. Can you imagine in years to come that people will be reminiscing over e-pics?

Anyway, it has been pointed out to me that Number One Son might not have been too chuffed to see his younger self posted on my blog on Friday (sorry, Sam), so to redress the balance, here is a photo of me as a toddler.