Waited in all day for telly man, filling time with scales & arpeggios on the piano until fingers ached. Lunch – baked beans (no bread, and could not risk quick visit to Spar in case telly man arrived.) Read p7 of Dostoevsky, or most of it. Looked at Radio Times. Read about interesting film on ITV3 concerning young organist who is feared lost in Amazonian jungle but it turns out he has been teaching the indigenous population how to convert their blowpipes into flutes in order to play Poulenc, who is the young organist’s favourite composer. Film ends sadly when entire cast, as well as young organist, are boiled up and eaten by primitive tribe from across the river whose blowpipes still work perfectly. Film on from 2:30pm - 4:30pm. Telly man arrived 4:31pm and within seconds telly was working again. “Looks like some idiot left it on AV.” I think I must have blushed a little, for he then said “£10 for call-out and wasting my time. Call it £20 and I’ll bill your Mum for a faulty transistor.”
It is blackmail, but I felt obliged to agree because Mum has now missed last repeat of Coronation Street.
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