Sunday May 14 2006
“I’ve been doing a bit of research,” Graham said. “We don’t want to live in either of those houses over in Donniford. The neighbourhood isn’t the kind of place where we’d be happy.”
“Fair enough. Are you sure?”
“Right. I’ll get onto the agent first thing tomorrow and cancel our appointments to view.”
And so it shall be. Another example of our veto system swinging into action to resolve a potential conflict before it ever happens.
It’s like this, you see. When we’re undertaking a major purchase, like a house, or anything above and beyond a book or a record, we each of us have an equal power of veto. No reason need be given, and it’s against the rules to ask for one. And there’s to be no sulking or pouting, either. Once the veto has been issued, the discussion is over, and we get on with solving the next problem. Or the same problem another way.
It’s a system that works very well for us.
Ye gods and little fishes but I wish it were possible to issue a veto against the common cold in the same successful manner. I’ve cleared my chest condition, praise be, and with sincere thanks to those evil-tasting potions, but my sinuses seem now to be in freefall and I’m reduced to a state similar to that of a snivelling, runny-nosed schoolboy. I’ve resisted the urge to wipe my nose on my coat sleeve, of course. So far, anyway. I must admit, though, that it’s a lot easier to understand the practice just now.
Graham has a theory that this was actually triggered by an acute atttack of hay-fever, responding to a peak in airborne pollens of all kinds, and the cold bug snuck in while my defenses were otherwise engaged. Could be.
Theorising aside, I’m profoundly grateful to have cleared the whistles and bubbles from my chest and tomorrow I shall buy a large bottle of Day Nurse, which will bring the sniffles under control. I have a lot of faith in nurses. Even those that come in a bottle.