Post #76: Friends (Not The TV Show)

Yesterday afternoon and evening one of my (few) friends came over, let's call her Sarah for the purposes of this blog.  She tends to visit every six-eight weeks or so - the process is always the same: she brings over back copies of Red magazine in exchange for my old Esquires (we both get them free as part of our bank account benefits.) Sarah brings dessert and a bottle of wine, always purchased from Asda. We drink tea, make polite conversation then switch the TV on.  Sarah, who's long-term single moved out from the sanctity of her parental home in her late thirties and now, three years on, she's still not upgraded her bed to a 4ft 6in double or even a 5ft King Size (ooohhh) and remains loyal to her 2ft 6in small single divan.

I think that Sarah was secretly gutted that I'd downgraded the Virgin Cable TV package since her last visit because, quite frankly, we weren't watching 90% of the content and it was a waste of money.  Oh well, it's my life.  I did get the distinct impression that she disapproved of my current lack of employment and the fact that she rises at the (ungodly) hour of 05:30 every morning is the only suitable life choice for the working woman (she's made many a disparaging comment about working parents in her time ...)

The thing that did make me laugh was her tales about her having to undertake excessive lawn mowing in the back and front gardens of her terraced property(!) and the fact that she refuses to place anything in the council-provided recycling boxes, choosing to recycle via the bottle bank network(!) whilst out and about. It's fair enough if you're single, but purrrllessseeee?  Yes, I know that I shouldn't be unduly judgemental and maybe, just maybe she shows traits of OCD, but would never admit it, nor seek any suitable support to address the condition, which isn't the way that I'd choose to live my life, but when's all said and done, I'm a completely different person.