I have a handful of sundries left : a few friendly airline pilots with less friendly wives; the man in the garage; the coal merchant; two headmasters; a flautist who put me in touch with a source for raw milk; the man who sold us the washing machine and the one who delivered it – without the latter’s help in opening some difficult doors the precious new acquisition would have had to stay outside – as he was leaving he inquired with concern “will you be alright with them doors ?” – and many, many more.
To sum up, I love them all very much, even if at times one or two of them are a little slack with helping ladies on or off with their coats, opening doors for them or helping them with chairs when it comes to sitting down.
I heard recently that I have an admirer who calls me “dishy Dag”. It tickled my family. I rather like it.