My Dads Light
He is, relatively speaking, but that's not what I meant.
My dad was really pleased with the small, very bright, reading light I gave him a while ago. Even though he never knew he needed one, once placed next to the spot where he sits to read, he couldn't live without it. Sadly the high tech 'bulb' blew within a couple of weeks. Being a man with far too much time on his hands, he called me to ask where I'd bought it, then he contacted the company concerned and organised a new one to be sent out. All I had to do was 1. Find the receipt. 2. Write a covering letter. 3. Mail it to to the company. 4. Await developments. 5. Mail the new bulb onto dad. 6. Re-file my receipt.
I need the receipt as it has the best part of a kitchen on it, the tax people may want to inspect it sometime, so no go, and life's too short for all that malarkey. I would pick up a new bulb, I told him, next time I go to the shop. If he asked me once, he asked me a dozen times, when was I going back to the shop, had I been back and finally, now I have a bulb, when am I coming down with the thing.
That lamp really has turned out to be
THE GIFT THAT KEEPS GIVING.
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