NOT a good day . . .

Please excuse the garish red border, but that’s just the way I feel.
 
 
The day started well enough, with things planned including writing the rest of the Xmas cards.  Then I got up . . .
 
 
The first, and most dominant thing that happened was I noticed that the kitchen sink drain (on the patio) was overflowing.
 
Vacuumed out the water and sludge, but little improvement.
 
Got the drain rods on the go and managed to shift something, but still sluggish.
 
Opened up the rodding point (blip) and found that I couldn’t get the rods up the pipe as the hole was too deep and my new rods don’t bend that well - how on earth did I do it fifteen years ago?
 
Finally, through various improvisations, I managed to clear the blockage.  GOK what it was, but I guess residue from the dishwasher tablets - fifteen years’ worth!  Being a very hard water area doesn’t help.
 
As it got just past lunch time the heavens opened.  Fortunately the blockage was cleared by then, but tools and stuff were everywhere, and now soaking wet along with me.  On top of that these old bones were ACHING.  All relative joints creaking in sympathy. 
 
On top of that I lost a screw from the rodding point cover - an old imperial screw!
 
So all the tools etc are in odd places drying.  I’ll put them away and sort out the screw tomorrow, weather permitting.
 
Mrs W made me beans-on-toast for lunch; then I received an email from Fred Olsen agreeing to return our deposit.  Brilliant, and they are back in our good books.  So what’s bad about that you may ask?  Well I filled in the claim form only to find that the bank sorting code field only has space for five digits.  A bank sorting code is six digits, or eight if you count the spaces!  A snotagram has been sent.
 
So here I am, aching and very tired, having a rant about my day.  Well if I suffered why not you lot . . . ????
 
(And it’s not even Saturday!)