Today Rock HQ was supposed to be visited by a small lorry containing a large sofa. The reason I know this was that I wasted 20 minutes of precious lifespan looking in shop for said sofa, paid for it, fought off enthusiastic sales pitch for extra insurance that protected the surface of sofa from the thrills, spills and general trauma of life with two small children and 12 large dogs, and in closing the deal made absolutely certain that the nice salesman (called Steve) understood that only a small lorry, the type used by supermarket delivery persons, would be bale to make it from the gateway to the world to Rock HQ's front door. He very carefully wrote it out in red crayon on the sales ticket and stapled it to the forehead of the warehouseperson.
So it came as no surprise that today whilst I was enjoying the real alternative to work, meetings, I had seventeen missed calls from a frantic delivery driver in an articulated lorry stuck in the lane. Suffice to say despite phoning Steve to enquire what he had written in crayola on the sales docket and confirming it said small lorry, the sofa has not arrived and we await further developments.
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