Rubber, window thieves and indiscretions

Rubber, window thieves and indiscretions

I had the usual selection of old age emails this week and did consider asking to try out the powered wheelchair as I felt it could be handy whilst waiting in long supermarket queues.  However in the end I decided to save this thrill for another day.

One bizarre email beeped into my box...............an invitation to a rubber ball.  A what?  Why would a little rubber ball need a friend?  Had it lost its bounce?  On reading further down the invite all became clear.  This was not a play date with a toy, far from it.  In fact it was a Rubber Ball........a dance for those participants dressed head to toe in rubber.  Details of where to obtain such items was usefully provided as were locations and dates of forthcoming functions for dominatrix weekends, various fetish events and bring-a-guest-to-join-us nights.  The MC for the main Rubber Ball is someone called (wait for it) Ophelia Bitz.  Think I will give it a miss, but thank you for the invitation.

The local police force posted an item on Facebook that made me chuckle.  They received a call from someone reporting their car window had been stolen.  They dutifully logged the details and later on reported the victim had called back to let them know the window had miraculously reappeared when they pressed the electric window button......................

I love the hoo ha concerning the gagging orders and injunctions taken out by the rich and famous to cover up their misdemeanours.  The old excuse about trying to protect their wives and families from unwanted media attention is a poor one.  Hello chaps, if you all kept your dingly dangly objets d’art within the confines of your designer undies then not only would these court orders be unnecessary, but you would also save a bit of money for a rainy day.

I was in Windsor at the weekend for a quick visit to the town centre.  On most previous visits Her Majesty has not been at home, but this time her Royal Standard was flapping on the flagpole indicating she was indoors.  However, she was unavailable to receive callers as she had a huge pile of ironing to get through following her visit to Ireland last week.

Teeth, fish and Little Britain

For you regular readers, you may recall me stating I am changing dental practices yet again.  The appointment was booked for a Friday lunchtime and I was all geared up to see what this new dentist would decide needed to be done.  However, on the Tuesday evening prior to said booking I received a call from the dentist himself saying I would need to re-book as he was going for an interview in Bristol and would not be working.  Hmmmm, is this some sort of omen?  Bizarrely I then received an answer phone message from the same practice the following day......”hello Miss Davies, just a courtesy call to confirm your appointment on Friday at 12 o’clock, we look forward to seeing you.............oh I have just seen that you need to re-book so can you call as soon as possible”.......enough said.  I have managed to re-book for 1^st July, that is until I receive the next cancellation call from them.  At this rate by the time I get to actually sit in the chair they will have reverted to private practice again, at which point I will bid them farewell.

Further examples of shocking customer service in this country were brought home to me on a shopping trip this week.  I wanted to buy some t-shirt transfer paper, two fish and a gardening tool. Off I headed to Staples and found a pack of paper, although with only 5 sheets instead of the usual 20.  Upon asking for a larger pack I was told “Errrrmm no, don’t think we do that now, can’t check though as I am on my own”.  Great...............but at least I got a few sheets.  Off next to Homebase for the gardening tool (that new fangled one by Fiskars that removes weeds without having to bend one’s back).  None on display and told by the staff that they hadn’t got any.  Tried at B & Q for the same device, alas “naaahhhh, ain’t got any”.  Less efficient than the David Walliams ‘computer says no’ character and certainly not as attractive. Off to an independent retailer to be told they don’t stock Fiskars products.

I then went to Pets at Home for the fish, 1 x goldfish and 1 x catfish.  An assistant with less charisma than Steve Davis said “we haven’t got any catfish”..........my reply was to ask what the things in the tank were (labelled catfish)....................”No they aren’t what you want”.  Er hello, who is the customer here?  I have bought fish on and off for years and I know what a catfish looks like.  I left the store amid a flurry of live crickets hopping around the floor as they had escaped from their box.  I only wish I had let them out.

Off next to the independent pet shop...................told they couldn’t sell fish today as they had just arrived and would be unsettled from their journey to the shop.  I pointed out that they were in fact going to have to travel again whenever they were bought.  I left the shop with a goldfish and a ghost catfish “at my own risk”.  Ghost catfish is living up to his name as he is virtually invisible in the tank.

To round off my afternoon I went online to order said gardening implement from Homebase.  It was unavailable as a home delivery item but could be reserved for collection from the store.  The store I had been into less than an hour previously was showing 4 in stock.  Upon contacting the store they confirmed this.  What a dreadful service...........I now have to make a 20 mile round trip tomorrow to collect the weeder.  It had better be worth the effort or else someone will be wearing it internally.

This is all.

Silence, seaside and seeds

Silence, seaside and seeds

What is that I can hear? Is it the sound of silence? Yes, my cough of eight weeks has finally bitten the dust thanks to the wonderful addition of a ventolin inhaler.  Apparently my breathing tubes had gone into spasm which was preventing the cough from departing, but after a few puffs on the magic potion the troublesome squatter in my lungs left the building. I have taken out an injunction to prevent it returning.

Since my last blog I have been to the seaside to escape the madness of the Royal Wedding.  Don’t get me wrong, I support the Royal family and this country would be a worse place without them, but spending quality time on a buckshee day off was more important to me than sitting in front of the television all day watching the nuptials of two people I do not know personally.  The highlights were re-run over and over on Sky news in the evening so I got to see the best bits without having to listen to oodles of presenters pontificating all day.  Apparently the DVD of the ceremony was available to buy on the following Wednesday.  I did have a giggle (like the rest of the nation I expect) at the hats on Beatrice and Eugenie.  Well done girls, you won the bet.

The seaside trip was superb, paddling on three different beaches in less than 24 hours.  Also managed to take in visits to Swanage, Sandbanks, Dorchester, Salisbury, Stonehenge, Lulworth Castle, Lulworth Cove, Durdle Door and Corfe Castle.  The weather was great, contrary to what the weather forecasters had predicted for the area, and the wind was useful in helping to propel me along the cliff top footpath.

Planting out fever has hit my garden over the past couple of weeks.  I have a stack of fruit and veg in various containers and they are growing well so far.  There will not be enough to warrant a stall outside the front of the house (well maybe the tomatoes will produce far too many for me to eat) but I should have a plentiful crop to pick as and when I need them.  If only I could grow chocolate bars in the garden then life would be sweet (pardon the pun).

This week is going to be struggle with five working days.  Having got used to shorter weeks with all these bank holidays I could do without the return of two day weekends.  Roll on the end of the month when there is another three day block.  Perhaps I should actively encourage the rest of the young royals to marry at regular intervals throughout the year in the hope we may get more days off.

This is all.

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!