Raising the Temperature

Why is it we or I never learn from mistakes?
Having seen what happens when his Lordship and I shop together, and on a Saturday too, you would imagine that I would have been more than a little reluctant to agree to go into town with him this morning.

But I was lured by the promise of his buying me a remote switch for my Canon camera and also a blower brush. Both these objects were obtained amicably, but the downfall was the buying of a duvet cover for the bed.

To me it was straightforward. The sizes and whether or not it is a sheet or a duvet are clearly marked on the packet, and so his Lordship guided by me bought the appropriate article reasonably quickly, only for him to complain while on the way home that I agitate him, hassle him and am too impatient, and that left alone would manage perfectly well.
I'm sure he would eventually, having spent many dithery minutes looking at the shelves and then engaging the help of the assistant.
There was no domestic this time, just rather loud stage whispers. We were on a bus.

A lifetime of domesticity sets you up in the pole position for household management. I wish he would understand that.

This afternoon I had an interesting rendezvous with 4 ladies who shared a modern Greek class with me long enough ago for me to have forgotten every bit of Greek I ever knew. We spoke in English.
Our conversation ranged over a variety of subjects, but the most memorable one dealt with the problems of being caught in a long static tailback of traffic and bladder control. I leave it all to your imagination.

We also touched on the modern fashion of certain parents to take their children's temperatures at the drop of a hat, a bit like the man I blipped at the Farmers' Market this morning taking the temperature of his beefburgers.