Utter Utter Somethings

Just Guybo and myself in the office today, which is a recipe for two things; entertainment and disaster (generally in some kind of combination) First half of the day went well if not, perhaps, productive. Then we left for Youth Cafe and the fun began.

First; we missed the bus.
Second; sitting at the bus stop I managed to lean on my glasses and pop one of the lenses out.
Third; I found the screw and pulled out my little knife/tool thingo to put it back in but just as I went to insert the tiniest screw on earth I slipped and lost it in the dirt on the side of the road. Several minutes of Guy and I scratching about like chickens, me with the lens squinched in my eye like a monocle, produced nothing even when we enlisted the aid of a girl at the bus stop (who picked my accent as aussie, well happy with that as I've been told I'm losing it)
Fourth; realise about two minutes after getting on the bus that we left the cushion covers for the couch at the office.
Fifth; get a call from Guy whilst sitting in the Optometrist waiting to have my glasses fixed informing me that he thinks he has left the key to the cafe in the office in Haddenham.
Sixth; Optometrist informs me that my glasses are buggered as the screw was not loose but rather there is a crack in the frame. He managed to fix it so that it will stay for a bit but if it goes again its stuffed.
Seventh; get to cafe and find Guy standing outside talking to Charlie. Briefly consider taking her and Guy down the pub and sitting out in the beer garden for the rest of the afternoon, rehearse my explanation to Wendy and Mal when they ask why Charlies irate parents are calling them about the youth workers who took their daughter to the pub and dismiss this course of action despite the temptation to do it for the sheer comedy value.
Eighth; boost Guy over the fence when we realise that we don't need a key once we're past the spiked gate, just the security code to the door. Once inside realise that in order to set anything up we need the key to the cupboard which we don't have and that the cushion covers for the sofa are also in the office in Haddenham. Decide to sit up top drinking tea, playing Hackey and chatting.
Ninth; Guy decides to teach us to sing. Charlie, it turns out, can sing like a nightingale. I, on the other hand, can't. The singing lessons get better and better as we go and end up replacing all the words to This Little Light of Mine with "moo". Guy informs us both that we both can sing very well despite our protests to the contrary.
Tenth; Charlie leaves and Guy looks at me with and says "Do you want the good news or the bad news?" Same thing he asked me when he called me in the optometrist. Bad news first. He pulls out the cafe keys and informs me he found them in his pocket about halfway through our singing lesson but didn't have the heart to tell me, and besides our singing lesson was going so well.

We had an entertaining chat, that involved a v comic discussion of the "take Charlie to the pub idea" (which incidently had crossed his mind as well) and the ensuing explanation, in his version Charlie had had twelve triple vodkas and was in hospital having her stomach pumped whilst we explained who we were, where we were from, and who precisely was responsible for our actions to Charlies parents. Before we parted for the day and headed for home thanking God that he works through our weakness and not through our organisational skills.