Thursday January 6, 2005
|Reading the small print
It’s wonderful what a charge a bit of sunshine gives to the spirits. No matter how hazy, the psyche knows it’s there. And a light breeze helps, too.
We had a conference to determine whether trash collection would be today, as it normally is, or tomorrow, as it sometimes is when holidays lead to a shortened week.
I went to get my reading spectacles, flattened out one of the black plastic liners provided by the council and did my best to read the schedule from it. I tell ya. Faint silver printing on black plastic might look very stylish but, for people who don’t see as well as they used to, it’s not altogether practical.
“There you are,” I said. “I told you so. The collection will be tomorrow.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Look here.” And I held out the plastic bag for him to double check.
“Are those your reading specs?”
“In that case I shall have to trust you. I put mine down somewhere and I can’t find them.”
“Oh dear, what?” he demanded.
“Aren’t we getting old?”
“You speak for yourself. I just don’t read small print as well as I used to do.”
“Yes, I know. That’s the way it all started for me.”
“Now you’ve done it.”
“Made it necessary for me to kill you.”
“Ah,” I said, thinking on my feet. “Better leave it until tomorrow, otherwise you’ll have to carry out all those trash bags yourself.”
“Oh. Good point. Tomorrow it is, then.”
“Right-o. It’s a date.”