Monday, June 11, 2007


I was up half the night with a runny nose, a thumping head, and a sore throat. I ran the kids to Newton Mearns at 6-30am then collapsed on the bed. I wasn't going to make work. I took some paracetamol and cough sweets and slipped back under the duvet. It was about 8-30. I had probably been asleep less than half an hour when the phone rang. I was disoriented when an Indian-sounding voice asked if I was Mrs Widmann. 'No, sorry', I said. He introduced himself as Imran and asked who I was. I told him in the croakiest, sleepiest voice that I was 'the person who lived with Mr Widmann'! He then inquired whether there was anyone elderly in my house having trouble with the stairs? Emm, well at 39, I am the most elderly, and it's a ground floor flaming flat. 'So no one is likely to want a stair lift fitted?', he continued politely. 'It's a GROUND FLOOT FLAT', I repeated exasperated and now fully awake. He wished me a happy day and hung up.
An hour later as I was about to drift off again, the phone went. A voice, English this time, asked if I was Mrs Widmann - god here we go again, 'No I'm the person who...' They informed me that if I could quote the correct bonus product code (whatever that is) I would win a makeover for my bathroom...give me strength! I gave up trying to get better by sleeping and got up for a coffee.
(Oh, and Thomas, go ex-directory, please for the sake of my health!)

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