The Great British Workman and Marmalade

Rarely do I concern myself with the economy or the state of the British market, but today, I am furious about the lack of service and customer care in this country. As I write this I can hear my husband's voice protesting that customer service is no better in the States. I think he may be right, but it doesn't change the fact that here, in London, it stinks.

This morning I was waiting in for a delivery from a building materials company of loft insulation.  At 10.20am this big flatbed truck pulls up and on it is 17 (!!!) huge rolls of insulation material. I had already been warned by Ralph that the insulation would fill a room but I don't think the reality sunk in until I saw the stuff.  The delivery driver said he could only drop the stuff in my tiny front garden or in the street outside my house. When I pointed out that it was raining and that the insulation would get wet he said, "not my problem". I asked him if he could please bring it into the house into the front room that was cleared so he could just drop it there.  "no" he said, "not insured to take it over the front doorstep".  I challenged that and then asked him if a few pounds extra tip money would change that and he said "yes, I suppose it might".

At that point I had to leave for my doctor appointment so we could work out why my hair is falling out. I left the delivery in the hands of my painter, who is wonderful and a real mensch.
He dealt with the driver and put plastic sheeting on my floor and stacked up the rolls of insulation so it was all neat and tidy when I came home.  Four rolls were soaking wet and filthy. This meant I had to call the shop and complain. They said they knew their driver was unpleasant! They will deliver more tomorrow. Yippee!!

No wonder my hair is falling out!

It is also marmalade making day in this house.  This means clear the counters, jars to sterilize, huge preserving pan bubbling on the stove and sticky sugary droplets of marmalade everywhere. I mentioned earlier that I do this every year and have done for so long I can't remember when I started. I do remember one year Ralph and I hand made the labels and I'm tempted to do the same this year.  The kitchen is now sticky, the sink is full of sticky spoons, pots, dishes, but the marmalade is made. This year I made 20 lbs of the stuff, more than usual,  since last year Ralph ran out about eight weeks ago. I never eat it but Ralph sure loves it. I guess it makes me feel good to see all those jars lined up and to know that I made them. What an unreconstructed housewife I am at heart.

Anyway, I am just delaying the inevitable - the cleaning of the sugar sticky kitchen. Tomorrow is supposed to be insulate the loft day. I think I am going to go out shopping since I have no desire to be the builder's mate in the loft insulation job.  Somehow I thought when we reached this time of our lives we would no longer do these things. I guess we are younger, fitter and maybe stupider than our parents were at this age.

Oh and by the way, while the marmalade was bubbling away,  I made some great chicken liver pate. Now that I will eat!