Strangest Sunday Ever

Was determined to have a very relaxed Sunday by not moving out of the house or cooking or getting worked up about the dust (tough one, that) or fighting with P. Bathed, ensured fridge had things to munch when hungry and plonked myself on the bed to read. Had two new books to start with plus another half-read one. Fixed a hot chocolate and a plate of fabulous cookies and homemade cakes, sent over a friend of mom-in-law’s. In other words, was ready to enter the world of sloth and sluggishness when…tantarrrra……..the doorbell rang.
A man from Mother’s Diary stood there with his card. The purpose? Can deliver milk packets to my house every, he had come to tell me that. Fantastic! Couldn’t he have slipped the card under the door instead of making me get up? Well, obviously not. What if memsaab wasn’t able to understand, even if the card said free home delivery! I thanked him for his wisdom, plonked back and began chapter one. Georgette Heyer seemed perfect for the day, having heard a lot from Anita about ‘These Old Shades’, the one I was about to start.
Things were going fine. The hot choc was fabulous, the cookies were getting over and the Duke was being super nice to his page Léon, leaving no cause for doubt that this boy actually was a girl (If you don’t understand this bit, never mind). Even P was in best behaviour and left the house almost as soon as he stirred, to play squash, have lunch with people and so on.
I fixed another hot choc, snuggled in more on the bed and waited for Leon to become Leonie and the Duke to fall in love. And then, ha ha, the doorbell rang. Two little girls had come to collect money for their annual school fair. I parted with the money and silently abused the school. A fair in this hot summer? Were they mad or what!
From then on, the doorbell never gave up. It seemed to attract anybody passing by with ‘Hey! Here I am! Gimme a go! Now!’
There was the neighbour’s son (borrow Calvin and Hobbes), the plumber (why do they turn up only when you don’t want them?), the cablewala (some reason), the watchman with the maintenance bill (shock and awe), new neighbour and wife, coming to enquire if our driver knew another reliable one, lady from building inviting me to join her kitty party group (Very hard to shake off). By the end of it, I had packed up the books, given up on the bed and gone back to the living room. Why read when you can play such an exciting game as ‘answer the door’?
Have no idea if the Duke fell in love!