Bodies in the Bookshop

The man who was supposed to come and fix the washing machine was to come at 8 am this morning; I had a run to go on, and I wanted to be decent when the man arrived.

I set off at 6:30 – very early, by my standards. I was to run at a relaxed pace for a fixed time and include hills. Heh, hills.

The strong wind in my face and my dodgy Achilles combined to hamper my pace somewhat, so by the time I got to the top of the village’s hill, half the time had elapsed. Nevertheless, I ran down the other side a bit, then ran back down where I’d come from a bit, then ran back up a little bit, then ran home. The wind tried to stop me running uphill at all costs.

You might think the wind would help on the way back, but you’d be wrong: this is the fens, and the wind doesn’t work like that here.

The washing machine man turned up just after eight; Mr Pandammonium let him in and made him a cup of coffee. The man set about watching the washing machine in action.

It turned out it was probably just the drainage hose deteriorating that had caused the leakage, rather than anything in the machine itself, so that’s an easy fix. He put an order in for a new hose.

The service we’d paid for included a certain amount of money to be used for spare parts. He said because the washing machine was so old, it would be a good idea to use that money to order a couple of other bits that could probably do with being replaced, like the heating element and the door seal.

He told us lots of things about washing machines that we hadn’t known and didn’t really follow. He said ours was ahead of its time, although it’s over ten years old now.

He told us that washing machines don’t necessarily live longer with Calgon. I was glad I’d stopped using it, although our water has a lot of dissolved rock in it.

When he was done watching the machine doing its thing and ordering new parts, he demonstrated how he’d become so late the other day while he drank most of his coffee: he talked both hind legs off five donkeys until 9 am, when I had to get ready to go out.

I met a writing friend in a vegan cafe in Cambridge; we were both late, with me arriving a couple of minutes before she did.

We talked about anything but writing for nearly an hour before we got round to ordering. Finally, the conversation turned to writing. And then away from it. We really just had a lovely chat about all the things.

She told me about a bookshop that had opened off Kings Parade, where Kings College is, called Bodies in the Bookshop. You can guess what kind of books it sells.

My friend had to leave around 3:30, but I had plenty of time, so I pootled off, the Achilles grumbling at first, but easing up as I continued, to investigate the bookshop. I was very restrained, adding only a single book to my to-read pile.

Back at home, it’s time to relax as much as is possible with a cat that does wail so.


Thank you for the love you showed for my picture yesterday, especially the hearts :)