sloth
Weeks months go by and I do nothing. Then this afternoon, within the space of a couple of hours, I:
- went to the job centre, was redirected to its new location, asked for the forms for a new claim, was shown a telephone and told to press #2. Waited on hold for 20 minutes, then asked for the 0845 number and called it from home. They took my name and number and I'll be called back when their system is up;
- registered with the local surgery, very much motivated by the fact that my eyes are getting weepier and weepier. It definitely is an allergy, but which one? Dust? Galore. Pussy? Yes, flatmate's cat. Pollen? Straight from nearby Wandsworth Common. Pollution? Loads if I open the windows at rush hour. You name it - we've got it in our flat;
- downloaded the form I should have filled within 90 days of moving back to the UK, from the Italian embassy web site (a masterpiece of concealed and badly translated information);
I'm not sure whether I should feel proud of myself or not worthy to partake in the company of active individuals.