Yesterday after another frustrating day at work and another long wait at the school gate, Nugget and I arrived home to a lovely surprise. A potted orchid was at our front door with a card.
It was from a very classy lady called Bryanne who had a bit of a crash outside my house last Friday afternoon. She was OK but I think she was a touch more shaken than the young bloke who had bent his mum's car on her Citreon. I didn't see the crash but I heard it while I was having a wine on the couch (and tapping away on the laptop of course). They had parked outside my house so of course me being the Dorrie Evans I am (don't tell me I'm the only one that remembers No.96?), I poked my head out on the balcony to ask if they needed any help.
Some passing jogging women (in matching black lycra of course) who saw the whole thing came across the road to help as well. After they gave their details to both the drivers they jogged off again (somebody tell me what's the attraction of running again?), another lady pulled up to see if she could help.
I started chatting to her and went down (left my glass behind just in case the wine police turned up) to see if she needed anything. It looked like Bryanne was having trouble with her phone so as I had my mobile in my hand I offered her it to call her insurance company. Trouble is I didn't remember how long you can be on the phone explaining every minute detail of the damage and the history of your insurance policy to some disinterested chick on the other end. It wouldn't have worried me so much had I not been waiting for a friend to call back to say she may come over for pizza and a whine and a wine or two.
So an hour later and two tow trucks later she finally gave up waiting for "Lisa" to come back from putting her on hold and took the first dodgy looking truck driver that was offering his services. She was very nice and thanked me profusely and asked my name but I didn't think it was so she could send me a living thankyou! She even asked on the card how much the phone call cost and wrote her number, but seeing I had no inclination to look that up or worry about it, I texted her back not to worry.
Bryanne was classy.
The zombie looking man who almost rolled over me at the lights while I crossed over today (it said WALK!) while he shoved a huge roll of some undescribed meats into his mouth with both hands (no steering required), he was NOT classy. And when inexplicably I came up behind him in my car an hour later in the traffic and he stopped dead in the middle of the road while he lit a cigarette, he was NOT classy.
And now I've spent all night on the computer while watching the excellent SBS episode of Who Do You Think You are and then live chatting to Shaun Micallef after (OK, he didn't actually answer my question).
I've always loved Shaun (remember Fabio?). A couple of years ago I met him at his book signing, where he not only signed his book (which I bought) but also the book my husband bought, which was unfortunately John Howard's autobiography. It was also unfortunate that Shaun was mistakenly introduced as Shane (which is my husband's name) by the host at his Author's Talk which he brought up at least three times. He also put alot of shit on John Howard. So when husband asked Shaun to sign JH's book "To Shane", he was not pleased. I pretended I was not with him of course but I don't think he believed me.
Have you encountered exceptional class or monstrous ass lately?
And let me know what you think of the new Birdy Banner, I had to change it as I might have been breaching some sort of copyright with my previous banner by publishing an artwork that I bought in Byron Bay.
And don't forget to enter the comp for a Family Pass to Taronga Zoo - good chance at winning this one as hardly anyone has entered and it closes on Saturday!
AND..... I'm linking up with Jess for IBOT!