Signs of Spring

This morning I did some more work on the service sheet for our friend’s service of thanksgiving, and printed off and delivered a couple of proof copies to his son for checking.

I then spent a very frustrating three quarters of an hour at the computer with Smithers by my side, endeavouring to get through on an online chat to BT to let them know that our landline isn’t working. I explained this briefly to the chatbot, who then asked for our telephone number (which it said the system didn’t recognise) and our account number (which I took from our latest bill). It didn’t recognise that either. 

We’ve had this number since we moved here in 1997, so you can imagine our frustration. The chatbot transferred us to an operative on the chat, who might just as well have been another chatbot from his robotic replies. We hit a brick wall and after I’d spent half an hour altogether trying to sort the problem out, he ended the chat quite suddenly, saying he couldn’t help me.

Smithers could see I was getting upset (almost tearful I’m ashamed to say) and was mortified that he wasn't able to contact BT for me, but he can’t see the screen well enough any more. 

We gave up and had a bite to eat, then I took myself out into the garden in the sunshine with my macro lens. I could feel the tension melt away as I played with the settings, and I make no apologies for using nine photos today because all these little signs of spring brought me great joy and lifted my spirits.