Wednesday, 3 June 2009

It started out

with an 8am meeting. The idea behind this is that other people have to go to work. Note I say "other people". I do not go to work. People who work from home do not work. It's simple. I do not know why I do not understand this. Everyone else does.
I did not even have to make the effort to get there. I arrived by magic carpet. Pedal power does not count. The meeting was only about 5km away. The traffic is not heavy. It is not yet peak hour. We will forget the extra traffic because they have pulled up the railway line. That does not count. "Oh, sorry Cat. I could have picked you up. You should have asked." I do not ask for rides unless it is pouring with rain and blowing a gale and I absolutely have to be somewhere. They know that.
And no, I am not doing the work they are paid to do. I explain this nicely, kindly, patiently. I tell them I have just been asked to do another round of unpaid work for some UN workers and some micro-aid workers who are volunteering their time for people living in tents. The faces around the table are not pleased. I am, after all, there to work for them because I do not work. I have lots of time. They go to work.
I pedal home telling myself I am not being un-nice.
Dad has been waiting anxiously. This time it is not because of me but because the elderly woman I check on twice a week has rung. She is in a state because her daughter is not answering the 'phone. I 'phone her and then go around to the next street to see if her daughter is there. She is not. That does not help much. She still thinks her daughter has had another seizure and is lying helpless on the floor. Her daughter always talks to her every morning.
Her daughter's husband is a teacher. I do not know what school he works at. It has never been an issue before. I do know what school her granddaughter goes to. I 'phone that and explain the problem and say that I am aware that privacy, security and all that goes with 21stC safety awareness will probably prevent them from letting me talk to the child and I do not wish to alarm the child anyway. The child is sensible but this is a school. There is silence at the other end of the'phone and then the voice says, "Tell me something about yourself that I can ask her."
Easy, "Ask her if she knows the Cat on the Tricycle." There is a laugh. "I know the Cat on the Tricycle. Hold on and I'll see what I can find out."
A little later there is a voice at the other end of the 'phone, "Cat, is something wrong?"
I hastily explain I do not think there is. "Oh, tell Granny that Dad has taken Mum to the hospital. It's about the skin graft from last time. They did tell her. She's forgotten again."
Thank goodness for clear headed twelve year old girls. I 'phone my elderly friend. She is almost in tears. I tell her to go and make herself a cup of tea.
There is no time for a cup of tea but I pedal off to the other meeting wondering why the school secretary knows the Cat on the Tricycle? I really should have asked her.


Katy said...

Great post, Cat, thank you. I breathed a sigh of relief all the way from the other side of the world. I love The Cat on the Tricycle name, absolutely wonderful. :-)

catdownunder said...