Any excuse or How to take the rough with the smooth

I don't need an excuse to go to Winchester.
That said, in stark contrast to the opening statement, I have managed the following excuses to go there in the last three months:
1 It's a convenient place to stop for lunch on the way to the where we're going
2 It's a useful route away from the the traffic jam on the way back from where we were going
3 It's a convenient place to stay when visiting a friend who lives in a town 15-20 miles away
4 It's a nice place to meet up with another friend and his wife for Sunday lunch tomorrow

It's hardly the social whirl of the century. But it is good to remind myself that the place I want to live is somewhere I always want to go back to.
Other excuses could have included
1 The torch lit procession through town for Guy Fawkes day
2 Because I want to
3 It's a really nice place to go
4 I feel at home there. In fact, I almost feel as though I own it although I know that I will probably never have the money to own so much as a bath and a sandwich toaster there

Tomorrow's trip is pretty important in that it will give Diana the chance to meet the final piece of my friend jigsaw. It's the man I inappropriately call Fildew. It's also the man I should accurately call Paul. He's married to Sarah whom I've never met. Should all the invited people turn up to our wedding next year, there will be three Sarahs and three Pauls. So, Fildew he remains.

And Fildew is an enigma wrapped up in cling film. If he felt comfortable with communicating with the outside world he'd be the most popular person around. But he's not so he has to make do with those who are dogged. In this case, that's me.

Anyway, if I thought he'd be able to stand the pressure of being sociable and organised for an entire day, I'd consider asking him to be my best man. But, like me, he's not.

Of bricks and mortar
After much gentle persuasion and idiotic determination, Nationwide finally deigned to lend us the money to buy the house in Ascot. Even after the decided to tell us that we had to stump up an extra £12,500 or go to hell, it took them three days to make a decision.

And within 24 hours of finally having the mortgage approved? The phone call. The estate agent. The news. The vendors have been knocked back by the owner of the house they wanted to buy. So, we're back in limbo. They want to sell us the house. We want to buy it. Where we go from here is anyone's guess.