'Racehorse Fits Car into Diary' Problem ... or Similar

There are weeks when the many strands of life resemble those racehorse games that used to be seen at the fairground.  Those of you of a 'certain age' may well remember them.  Each position along the front of the stall was assigned a horse on the big board at the back, and you propelled your horse toward the finishing post by means of scoring points as a result of rolling balls into holes in front of you.  Sometimes your horse would appear to have lost its legs completely, so long did it remain in one place; then all of a sudden it would shoot forward several yards, as the mechanism beneath jerked it into life.

Fairgrounds apart, there are days when I return home after hours away and say to an empty doormat, "Right, that's the post dealt with; what's next?"  After a sequence of such days, yesterday was definitely not one of them.  I returned home at lunchtime to find three white envelopes waiting for me.

Following the anniversary of my little sports car being written off, and the subsequent acquisition of a new replacement, the said replacement has just had its first annual service, and is resplendent in the afterglow of a professional clean courtesy of the local Volkswagen showroom.  As part of the anniversary celebrations, I had renewed the VW insurance policy, and the first envelope I opened contained all the confirmatory documents ... and the all-important Certificate of Insurance.

The second one was a leaflet from the National Health Service, distributed by my GP's office, offering a free general health check for an age range that includes me.  This seemed a very worthwhile service, so I rang the surgery immediately to make an appointment.  It's actually two appointments, because they do a blood test first and then chat to you after they've seen the results.  Coming only two days after I responded to an earlier letter about an annual Asthma Check, they would appear to have commandeered my diary for the coming month.

They don't get it all their own way, though.  A little over a year ago, I decided to change my broadband provider after being told by a nice young lady at Virgin that, when my introductory discount was about to expire, I could call their customer service number and arrange a new discounted deal to replace it.  Fool that I was, I believed her and, a week or two before the expiry date, I rang the number only to be told that nothing could be done, because my existing contract was still in force.  Though I pleaded my cause, I got nowhere and now that the full price has kicked in, they have e-mailed me to say that this will be increased even further from from September.

So, when I opened my third letter this morning and found an attractive offer from BT, I looked for the almost-hidden important phrase 'will revert to' and, having found it, did some comparisons.  The outcome is that I have now arranged to return to BT as a new customer and enjoy a discount for 18 months for their latest variety of high-speed broadband, before moving to a new price within a pound or so of what I would be paying Virgin next month.  And with BT there are a lot of hidden extras and good service, too ... the only reason I left them was the attraction of discount ... and a pretty voice!  Another appointment has been entered to my diary, this time not a go-out, but a stay-in event, just in case the engineer can't do all he has to from outside the flat.

The excitement isn't all over yet, however, for this evening I received a long-awaited e-mail from another committee I was invited to join a few weeks ago, inviting me to fill out a doodle-poll to say when I would be available for the first meeting to involve me.  This will shortly lead to another filled slot in the August diary.  This one will have the added excitement in that the other committee members are in Edinburgh, Bristol and a host of other locations I've yet to  memorise and the meeting will take place on line, using technology hitherto beyond my horizons.  Very much a case of 'watch this space'!

Of course, there is one horse in the race for my time that is presently becalmed mid-course.  Some months ago I attended a meeting in the town, where it was decided to produce cooked meals during the summer holidays for some of the less well-off families in the community.  Cooking is not my strong point - far from it! - but I decided I would be willing to help behind the scenes.  The other week I responded to an appeal to collect food being donated by two local supermarkets.  Last weekend, I was shifting chairs in church alongside a friend who is helping with the same venture, but wasn't the one who had sent out the appeal.  To my surprise it was this friend who apologised for not getting back to me with the details of what I shall be required to do.  It seems that, in that committee, the one who sends out appeals isn't the one who actually deals with responses!

No doubt there'll be more diary excitement next week.