I was both pleased and made anxious by the R&T Times publishing of my letter about the ban on feeding cat and birds. Rodger-come-lately cleared away the compost heap on the basis that that had been banned too. Balvinder, for Richmond Housing, said the compost bin’d be here Tuesday, same day but after I’d emailed in the letter.
I have to find out if the bin does arrive tomorrow and if the Customer Liaison Officer, Olivia, did order me not to have a compost heap because I hadn’t discerned any such order and was told I lied by Rodger. “Why would I?” I’m continuing to feed cat and birds discreetly though if asked would admit I am.
The public letter is to keep up pressure. The only people here I’ve told of the bin’s coming are Ian and Diana.
John suggested MP and councillors as follow-up. He’s the other reason I’m out of sorts. My acceptance of him is receding anyway so tackling him over breaking the lid of my little plastic washing machine without saying and not putting anything away after he’s suited his convenience, when putting anything back doesn’t, won’t turn that never-very-flowing tide back even if his response is compliant, but it does have to be tackled, also on Tuesday, tomorrow.
At least I think that’s why I’m out of sorts. It could be finding my cholesterol level’s on the high side. Could be none of these things. The worry has persisted though. Thomas didn’t cheer me up enough for me to be able to face Yvann who fortunately didn’t come up. I’m not happy is all. I’m worried at the consequences while thinking I’d no choice, and have none, but to act as I did and as I will do.