Post, St George and sandcastles

Post, St George and sandcastles

The workings of the postal system have, for you regular readers, become a source of frustration, anger and bewilderment for me of late.  However, the inefficiency now extends to the international postal system.  You may remember that on 29^th November 2010 I posted three parcels at the same time to the same address in China.  Two arrived together but the third did not.  This parcel stayed missing for nearly five months until last week when it was returned to me!!  Curiously it was marked up ‘unclaimed’ which considering no attempt was ever made to deliver it to the recipient was strange.  The parcel has now been repacked and forwarded to Spain for collection later this year when my friend visits her family (at a much cheaper price too I might add!)

My cold has just about cleared up after nearly seven weeks, however the cough still lingers.  I even resorted to a GP appointment for reassurance that I do not have bronchitis (after much nagging by my mother on the subject).  However, I continue to cough day and night, varying between a dry cough and a chesty cough depending on what medicine I take – instead of curing the cough, the tickly medicine causes a tickly cough and the chesty medicine aggravates the productive cough.  Whichever variety of cough I have, it changes every hours and I can feel popping bubbles when I splutter.  I was described the other day as sounding like an old kettle when I breathed too deeply. A little unkind, but I guess being described as an old boiler would have been worse.

If you fancy a patriotic day out next St George’s Day head for Nottingham.  The castle featured the right flag for the day and hosted some medieval events.  Later on, two chaps kitted out in Crusader outfits trotted through town on horseback, accompanied by the band of the Scots Guards (yes, I thought that was a little bizarre), marching bands and majorettes.  The town hall was dressed in an enormous St George’s flag and there were many patriotic souls (dressed in England football shirts) frequenting the local hostelries.  I expect they were drinking German beer, but hey, what the heck!

Disturbingly, I heard today that someone had gone to more than one branch of W H Smiths to purchase St George’s Day cards only to be told they did not sell them as the flag is the symbol of the BNP.  Oh for go0dness sake, whatever next?

Royal wedding fever approaches and I am banking on everyone being indoors as I will be heading down to the coast for two days.  No way am I going to be anywhere near the capital amongst all that madness with the risk of terrorist attacks, big crowds and overpriced food stalls.  By the end of Friday there will be litter knee deep and roads still closed.  No room at the inn for anyone unfortunate to arrive in London on Thursday or Friday without a prior booking.  Much like Christmas really but without the snow and Santa.  My bucket and spade will be packed together with flips flops and knotted hanky all ready to hit the sands.

Happy flag waving.

Sparse farming and even sparser post

Sparse farming and even sparser post

This week I took two children to a local farm which is often recommended by other people.  The leaflet describing the farm indicated there would be a large amount of animals to see and handle, we would be able to see animals being born (it actually stated ‘you will be able to experience seeing some of the baby lambs and calves being born......’).  In reality there were a few pens in the barn where people could walk in and stroke goats and rabbits.  No birthing to be seen anywhere.

The lambs were out of bounds for access into their pen although they could be stroked from outside – a case of handle those animals but not these.  Reminded me of Keeping Up Appearances when Hyacinth Bucket (pronounced bouquet) would invite her neighbour in for coffee and tell her to “sit anywhere Elizabeth............but not there.......”

No chicks or ducklings anywhere, a few cows huddled together and one horse.  Outside, the large field was mostly given over to a park and picnic area.  Inside the second barn was a huge climbing structure and cafe.  Most of the children at the farm were in fact using the play equipment rather than interacting with the small selection of animals.  Very disappointing and certainly not a place we will be returning to.  With a high entrance fee of £5.00 per child and £5.50 for adults it was not good value for money.  There were a lot of entrance fees being taken and all in cash Mr Taxman......................enough said.

Postal service does not improve.  Will be writing to man in charge this week as his minions have failed miserably to respond to my last missive.  Had someone knock on the door at the weekend to deliver a card which was correctly addressed to me. Sadly this was not a postman but an old blokey from two streets away.  Bless him, he trotted round on a Sunday as he thought it was important to deliver cards on time.  I wish I had had an application form for the Royal Mail to hand as I would have encouraged him to fill it in.  It goes without saying that the December post has still not reached me.

My neighbour lost her mother two weeks ago at the grand old age of 102.  Until two years ago the old lady and a handful of female relatives took an annual trip away for a week at the seaside.  My neighbour, in her mid seventies, was the youngest of the party!  Great to be so fit and active at that age.  I daresay the recently departed old dear is already organising a day trip to the far flung corners of the heavenly heights.  RIP.

Getting older, lack of post and webcams

Getting older, lack of post and webcams

This week I celebrated another birthday which was a good excuse for two birthday cakes, one for the family lunch at the weekend and another to entertain the after school kids.  Despite my best efforts at dangling over both cakes with loose hair, I did manage to avoid setting fire to the ends.

The arrival of another birthday caused the internet offers to go into overdrive.  Within four minutes of the clock striking midnight to signal the dawning of 6^th April my inbox was festooned with offers for a powered wheelchair with 50% off (does that mean only one wheel?); insurance for the over 50’s (hello, get your facts right, I am not 50 yet); various herbal products to relieve joint pain (not that sort of herbal); an offer for a retirement home (just what planet are these people on?) and finally details of a walk in bath.  I can hardly wait to see what I am offered when I do hit 50.

I accosted a postman in the street this week as he was stuffing his sacks into one of those holding boxes and asked if my missing Christmas post was amongst the mass of envelopes.  He told me he was not surprised that I am still waiting for post this far after Christmas as the Royal Mail is being run into the ground by the management, the staff are leaving in droves (yes, tell me about it…….…no end of different staff on each week with varying speeds of delivery) and there is still post in the sorting office to be sorted from pre-Christmas but they are not allowed to touch it.

They failed to deliver my electricity bill last month and I received a letter from NPower’s debt people asking for payment.  One swift call into NPower to find out the postage date and I have more evidence to tackle them with.  Two weeks further down the line and the original bill has yet to show up.

We have absolutely the worst (and most expensive) postal service in Europe without a shadow of a doubt.  I was so pleased to have to spend even more this week to post a card as the prices have gone up.  Needless to say, the Royal Mail have still failed to respond to my letter from February (could be lost in transit but I guess they just cannot be bothered to address the issues raised).

Baboons could run the customer service department more efficiently and they wouldn’t need to keep nipping out for a smoking break either.  They would also be more appealing eye candy than the current employees.  Think of the savings in the wage bill too by paying them in bananas instead of hard cash.

Perhaps I could renovate an old stagecoach and start up my own postal delivery service.  There is the option to carry extra goods to generate an additional income e.g. a few yogurts, newspapers, garlic to keep the vampires away during overnight travelling………….hmmmm…….I will give this some serious thought.

In this day and age of electronic mailing, webcams and the like you would think the Royal Mail would be doing all they could to encourage the public to use their service instead of the free and easier option of virtual post. 

I have installed Skype this week to keep in free contact with friends around the planet.  Brilliant idea……..until I saw my face on the webcam.  Perhaps the old age product invites were not so far off the mark after all.  Off to order some herbs, a walk in bath and powered wheelchair.

This is all.

Toilet humour, boobs and feline dentistry

Toilet humour, boobs and feline dentistry

Why is it that toilet humour never goes out of fashion with the 5-10 years age group?  As a child carer I am constantly bombarded with the same old rhymes year in and year out which becomes more tedious each time.  The current favourite is ‘Milk, milk, lemonade, round the corner chocolate’s made’.  I had not come across this one until about twelve months ago when it was used in a scene on Coronation Street.  Apparently it is an old favourite.  Not at my school it wasn’t, we were far more refined.  One of the nine year olds I look after added an extra dimension to the end of the ditty......... ‘If you look inside the hole, you will find a mini roll’.  Education these days, cannot fault it.

Actually, thinking about it, toilet humour goes through to adulthood with the male of the species.

For some time now I have been meaning to get measured in the chest department so on the recommendation of various people I headed off to a well known underwear establishment, the name of which sounds more like an Italian coffee brand than a bra shop.  Anyway, I wandered in early on Saturday morning and explained my predicament, i.e. not changed bra size in ages so thought I ought to be measured.

A girl of about 12 (in fact I thought she was on work experience) with the obligatory poker straight long blonde hair, orange spray tan and heavy black make up ushered me into a spacious cubicle and explained that the company does not believe in tape measures but in fact just look at a woman to decide what size garment is needed.  A little unorthodox, but hey I was willing to try it out. 

Over the next twenty minutes I tried on several cumbersome garments which ladies in the olden days probably could have used to carry a stone of potatoes home in.  I specifically said I wanted a totally plain bra, no lacy bits, but three lacy creations appeared.  During my time there I was first sized at 34F for the lacy items and bizarrely at 36DD for plain items.  How does that make any degree of sense?  I did keep saying that the contraption of whatever style felt too tight, but apparently that is how they are supposed to be.  I left the shop with a bag containing two plain bras at a cost of £52.

Today I have revisited the store and returned said items.  I saw a different assistant who seemed a little surprised when I told her I like to be able to breathe in my underwear, but she did refund the items without too much bother...............although I had to give my address details on Saturday “for our records so we can trace you in any of our stores” and instead of number 25 I had been entered onto the database as number 3.  The young chap living at number 3 never struck me as being interested in wearing women’s garments, but one can never be sure who lives in the same street.

My cat had her day out at the vets for dental work, arriving home one root and one tooth less but with clean and shiny teeth that would put Simon Cowell in the shade.  I left the vets £207 lighter in the coffers.  I was advised to only give her a little food that evening as her mouth would be sore and she would still be woozy from the drugs.  After three bowls of chicken and a pile of biscuits I eventually told her she would have to wait until the following day for a refill in her bowl........  She spent most of the evening guarding the kitchen door and at the slightest indication of me moving in the direction of the kitchen she scuttled to the fridge and sat staring at the handle willing it to open!

Animals, owners and lack of respect

Animals, owners and lack of respect

It is often reported that we Brits are a nation of animal lovers.  This is something I can identify with as a cat owner, frog rescuer and hedgehog over-winter carer.  However, one thing that really tries my patience is the dog owner who almost daily trots past with a small terrier and allows the mutt to wee up against my fence.  Do I wee up against the dog owner’s fence?  No, I most certainly do not and nor do I intend to take this up as a hobby.  In any case, being a member of the female species it is infinitely more bother to wee outdoors bearing in mind the various layers to be removed to prevent wet trousers or rivers down the inside leg.  Why does this person believe she has a right to use my fence post for her dog’s bladder activities?  Does she pay me a rent for the post? No.  Does she ever attempt to drag the dog away or mop up the yellow peril? No.  Does she ever look embarrassed? No.

Short of electrifying the fence (too time consuming and expensive) what can I do to prevent it?  Speak to my vet friend about sewing the dog’s urethra closed?  Take the fence down?  Sprinkle the area with hot chilli pepper (dog walks on area, licks feet later, goes through roof....)?  None of these solutions are workable.  The only option is to confront the owner...............hmm.........right then, it looks like some serious gardening out in the front garden is needed at a time to coincide with the pooch being paraded around the street.  Ok it may look strange being gloved up with trowel in hand at breakfast time but it must be worth a try.  Watch this space.

Why is it deemed acceptable practice to leave a pile of dog poo near to the dog poo bin?  How much effort does it take to bag it and put it in the bin next to the steaming pile?  What happened to having respect in this country for our surroundings?  Bring in Singapore laws - that will shake these people up.  I am grateful that my cat uses her litter tray and not my garden........poo appears, is picked up with loo roll and flushed away. Seeeemples!

My cat is off to the cat dentist this week.  She had a worming tablet at the weekend (something she hates with a passion) and instead of spitting it straight out, she spat a canine out instead.  Root removal and a descale and polish lined up for her on Friday.  Cat dental work makes private dentistry for owners look reasonably priced. 

Having said that, I have now booked to go to a different NHS (yes really, a surgery still taking NHS patients!!) dentist in a few weeks time.  Despite the six lengthy appointments for root canal work at the end of 2010, the tooth has lost another bit and I really cannot be bothered to sit through another six sessions with the chap who, although a pleasant enough dentist, announced he does not specialise in root canal work which is why it takes him so long........Surely it cannot be too tricky?  Drill, stick rod in, drill a bit more, stick rod in, fill gap, job done. 

Still no sign of the missing post and no reply from the Royal Mail to my letter.  I guess it is lost in the post.

Census time again (or plain nosiness by another name)

Census time again (or plain nosiness by another name)

Well, the time has come around again to complete the National Census (or Household Questionnaire as it is headed).  Today’s postman staggered up the path with an armful of purple and white envelopes, complaining about how heavy they were.  I was somewhat bemused at this as there are only four houses on this stretch of the street and he had to reload his bike basket with the spare ones.  Hey ho, perhaps he was trying to be macho.................or just plain daft.  My original hopes that he was staggering under the weight of my still missing Christmas post were dashed again.

Anyway, since the last census times have progressed and there was an online submission option.  Excellent!  I sat down, filled in the required boxes and it took all of six minutes to complete.  However, their flaw in the plan is, unlike online tax forms, you cannot obtain a copy of what you have admitted to, you simply get a confirmation number that you have completed the form.  There is no way back, the form cannot be amended once submitted so anyone who has made omissions has to live with it.  In any case, who is going to check that the information is correct?  I was tempted to state my ethnicity as Gypsy or Irish Traveller just for the fun of it and also to make future relatives question their heritage when tracing the family tree............ However I was sensible and gave the true information.  In any case I am nowhere near wealthy enough to be a Traveller, having seen on the recent Channel 4 documentary series how much they spend, in cash of course, on anything and everything they want.  Perhaps I should look into retraining as a tarmac layer.

I love some of the census questions:-

Question H1 – Who usually lives here? No option for ‘a load of squatters’.

Question H4 – Who else is staying overnight here on 27 March 2011?  Unless I get my tea leaves, crystal ball and runes out, how would I know for sure?

Question 2 (Individual Questions) – What is your sex? Only two options here.  No provision for eunuchs, people going through gender reassignment, those who are born with two sets of sex organs.

Question 31 – Have you ever worked?  This is included for the lazy sods amongst us who appear on the Jeremy Kyle Show to brag about spending their dole money on cannabis, drink and cigs but cannot be bothered to get up off their backsides and look for work.

Question 41 – How do you usually travel to work?  There was no option for ‘I walk down the stairs’.

My long term plan is now to obtain employment compiling the next census form with questions that are useful to the local community, name the criminal fraternity and dodgy MP’s with inflated expense accounts and are published for all to see.  Data Protection Act?  What is all that about then?  Perhaps there could be a section for providing tasty and easy recipes to assist reluctant (make that very reluctant) cooks like me.  How about a question asking who knows the names of the little yobs that continually knock and run from my front door?  I fully expect them to still be doing it by the time the next census is due.  In fact, it will probably be their own kids who are at it by then.  Should I fail in my plan to work on the census team, then there may be an opening for me on Grumpy Old Women – move over Jenny Eclair.

Oh good grief.................I have just realised that by the next census I will be almost retirement age.  Looks like I had better start replying to the emails I keep receiving for powered mobility scooters, incontinence materials and arthritis potions.  I expect the missing Christmas post will still not have arrived by 2021 either.

Post, doorbells and a spider

Here we go again............still no sign of the missing Christmas post.  I did eventually receive a reply from the Royal Mail, telling me they are in the process of spending 2 billion pounds updating their systems to provide a more efficient service. Yeah right, like that is going to happen.  No wonder they keep raising their prices.  I have replied to the (lack of) Customer Service Department and asked what happens to the backlog of post.  Does it get sorted and delivered or simply destroyed?  I also reminded them that when Deutsche Post takes over at least they will know how to run a postal system, with seven day opening plus an efficient service.  I await their next letter to me – incidentally the letter I have already received took eight days to reach me from the date of issue....................

Still having bother with antisocial behaviour from the local teenagers when they knock on the door or ring the bell then disappear.  The police response has been great and they are as keen as the rest of us to catch them.  Where are their parents?  Why don’t they know where they are and what they are doing?  The local Friday night youth club is a great ruse for them as they get dropped off and picked up there, but never actually go inside as there is more ‘fun’ to be had annoying the local residents.  Apparently there is a doorbell on the market which takes photos of whoever is ringing so I am in the process of sourcing one.  It is either that or drop a piano on them from the roof, the only problem being storing a large enough supply.

Half term beckons next week which in my house usually means lots of noise, mess and children of various ages.  Looks like the make and do box will be in constant use for the creative little souls.  Hopefully the rain will hold off so we can at least head out for some spring walks, although with my luck it will rain all week and the sun will return when they start back at school.

Amusing incident at my parents’ house this week.  Dad was eating his tea and saw a spider on the floor.  Knowing my Mum’s total intolerance of anything with more than two legs in her house, he started to chase it around with his foot to try and encourage it to move elsewhere.  Every time he poked at it, the spider rolled over but didn’t run away.  Eventually he turned the light on and discovered he had actually been chasing his garlic tablet................ Pesky little critters these health pills.

This is all.