Why am I reading Wednesday's FT on Sunday ?
Good question? I ask myself, but in truth, it is the only time that I can really dedicate to doing it. I made myself a promise about ten years ago that because I was degree less and not willing to go back to school and feeling slightly in need of some education on the ways of the world,that I would commit myself, to reading the Sunday papers. Not the News of the World but a broadsheet, you know the one that takes half an hour just carry from the front door to the living room. I still haven't mustered the art of turning the pages without getting in a pickle or why there are single sheets, that when dropped, never seem to go back in the right order!! Anyway, ten years later I am still doing it! I have a sort of routine, as I am sure most of you do, I have tried to steer away from it and approach the paper from the beginning, but alas, the routine wins every time. I start by making sure all the sections are there and that the delivery van hasn't dropped half of it on the way to my house just to save a few kilo's on the journey. I then proceed to scan the front page but within minutes, I am ripping the plastic wrapping of the magazines section and as the flyer's, fly across the floor I try and catch the one entitled " Scots of Stowe" or " The Bathroom Company" just in case I do find a bargain that will never get used. At this point I usually grab "Style magazine" and enter the kitchen on the basis that dinner will be scheduled for 7pm and with it now being 10am I may as well see if there are any culinary delights that I may want to cook instead of what we bought, that is sitting in the fridge. This, then leads to many conversations with my husband about" what he would really like for dinner " and being very husband like he says " Darling, whatever you cook, I know it will be delicious" and disappears back under the sport sections in the News of the World. Half of me wishes he had said something like lobster but the other half is very glad he didn't as lobster, on a Sunday morning in Bath is quite tricky to track down and "Style magazine's" topic was covering chicken livers and that, was not something I could contemplate at 10am on a Sunday morning.
I am now at the point where the Times is laid open on the dining room table and waiting patiently for me to cover myself in black print or fight with it for half an hour whilst I try and turn a few pages. Having learnt this I decide that it can wait but being full of good intentions I promise myself to read whilst dinner is cooking or at least finish it by bedtime. As the afternoon progresses, I catch up with a few chores and as I watch the potatoes browning nicely in the oven I begin to notice the paper has moved and appears to be following me into the kitchen. Disregarding this stupid notion and replacing it with" I must have moved it whilst laying the table", I commit once more in my head to reading it by bedtime.
It's 10pm and the Sunday Times has made it to the top of the stairs!! Not by itself in case some of you were now thinking that this was turning into some sort of Hammer House of Horror. It is my last attempt to prevent myself from looking at Monday's paper as it pops through my door and worrying to myself that it will be Wednesday before I can read the FT !!
I now know what the Beatles meant when they sang " 8 days a week"
Have an excellent week , I am off to tackle the last few sections of the Sunday Times!!
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