Tomorrow we journey north for the funeral (on friday), after checking Jake into his dog hotel with its canine hydrotherapy pool, I do hope they don't show the pool to him as he's never been in water above his ankles since the time when he was a puppy and we let him wade in the River Wharfe - he came out in a rash that needed a steroid cream to soothe it.
Today I had a threatening phone call from Her Majesty's Customs and Excise collectors, a sniffy young girl who introduced herself as "Ms", all the debt collectors who work in government departments are either very young, or very old, but invariably are women and always introduce themselves as "Ms", they are without fail very haughty and obviously read from the same script, I really would like to engage them in a conversation and enlighten them as to what life in the real world of business is all about but quite frankly I can't be bothered, in fact I've been of the opinion for some months now that if they carry out their threats to wind the company up then frankly I wouldn't care about that either, I think I've had enough of paying taxes for a while.
But we'll pay them what we owe them next week and for a couple of months they'll go away and I'll have to deal with the same sorts of women in the Inland Revenue until its time for the Customs & Excise again, and so it goes, the endless wheel of tax paying and stretching out the days when you have to pay the bills - I wish I could just stay at home and paint all day and that enough people would buy my paintings to make it worth while, they'd pay cash and I wouldn't declare a fucking bean, having donated more than my fair share of income tax and vat over the last 22 years of business, its someone elses turn now.
So I'll be absent with a good excuse for a few days then back paying the bills to miserable young and old cows at the revenue office, some sadness and a wake awaits in the northeast and in that strange way that wakes have, it will be nice to see all of the family again and say goodbye to the home that was my wifes home since she was born.
Toodle pip for now...
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Monday, May 29, 2006
Sunday, May 28, 2006
Travel insurance moans...
I'm buying travel insurance for our annual sojourn to Menorca in August.
I wouldn't bother but Suzanne insists that we have insurance.
I mean, we've been there dozens of times and the plane has never once crashed or anything, we've never lost our baggage on any holiday, even the time when we thought that BA had lost our baggage it turned up a day later sent to our door in its own taxi even, we've never needed medical care on holiday, how many types of ways can you injure yourself laying down for 14 days ?
Well ok, there was last year when Jodie got a bad ear infection from the swimming pool and I had to take her to the local doctor a couple of times, but even then I had to pay in cash and it was less than the insurance policy excess so we couldn't claim, the bastards.
And we are EU citizens so we are entitled to free hospital medical treatment - so what could go wrong eh ?
But she insists.
So I do as I'm told.
She even made me take out insurance when I went to France for three days in March, three fekkin days and I had to be covered for £8million or something equally ridiculous, good job it only cost me £5.
She gave me a leaflet that she'd picked up in Asda for Asda Travel Insurance, a person could live their whole life from birth to death with Wallmart Asda - checked their online quote, £47.
Thats bloody expensive for two weeks lying down.
And it doesn't include baggage cover. Personally I'm not bothered about baggage cover, I hate dealing with insurance company's and I don't want to be one of those families that wander around the resort for ten days of their holidays wearing the same clothes,stinking and complaining that their insurance company hasn't sent any money for new clothes yet - just go buy some new fekkin clothes for gods sake and balls to the insurance.
So I checked online at some other companies, I can get roughly the same cover for £9.75.
I've never heard of the company and I haven't even read the what cover you get for £9.75, probably not much is the answer, but it'll keep her happy unless we ever have to make a claim.
And then right at the end one thing caught my eye - the £9.75 one didn't include "insurance tax", when you added on the insurance tax it came to £39.95 - what the fuck is all that about then ?
The UK government slaps a massive tax bill on anything that you do that even remotely sounds like you're enjoying yourself - lets face it, the only reason that we're taking out insurance is to pay the medical bills if we're ever run over by a bus while lying down in the sun on our holiday.
Taking out insurance just guarantees that you'll get the hospital treatment that you're actually entitled to get for free as an EU citizen anyway, its just that if your insurance company will pay for it then the Spanish government won't have to claim it back off the UK government, so we're actually doing them a huge fekkin favour by paying for it ourselves and they thank us for that by slapping a £30 tax bill on us.
I sometimes think it would be easier to just hand my pay cheque over to HM Government and ask them to feed and clothe me, it would be much, much easier.
I wouldn't bother but Suzanne insists that we have insurance.
I mean, we've been there dozens of times and the plane has never once crashed or anything, we've never lost our baggage on any holiday, even the time when we thought that BA had lost our baggage it turned up a day later sent to our door in its own taxi even, we've never needed medical care on holiday, how many types of ways can you injure yourself laying down for 14 days ?
Well ok, there was last year when Jodie got a bad ear infection from the swimming pool and I had to take her to the local doctor a couple of times, but even then I had to pay in cash and it was less than the insurance policy excess so we couldn't claim, the bastards.
And we are EU citizens so we are entitled to free hospital medical treatment - so what could go wrong eh ?
But she insists.
So I do as I'm told.
She even made me take out insurance when I went to France for three days in March, three fekkin days and I had to be covered for £8million or something equally ridiculous, good job it only cost me £5.
She gave me a leaflet that she'd picked up in Asda for Asda Travel Insurance, a person could live their whole life from birth to death with Wallmart Asda - checked their online quote, £47.
Thats bloody expensive for two weeks lying down.
And it doesn't include baggage cover. Personally I'm not bothered about baggage cover, I hate dealing with insurance company's and I don't want to be one of those families that wander around the resort for ten days of their holidays wearing the same clothes,stinking and complaining that their insurance company hasn't sent any money for new clothes yet - just go buy some new fekkin clothes for gods sake and balls to the insurance.
So I checked online at some other companies, I can get roughly the same cover for £9.75.
I've never heard of the company and I haven't even read the what cover you get for £9.75, probably not much is the answer, but it'll keep her happy unless we ever have to make a claim.
And then right at the end one thing caught my eye - the £9.75 one didn't include "insurance tax", when you added on the insurance tax it came to £39.95 - what the fuck is all that about then ?
The UK government slaps a massive tax bill on anything that you do that even remotely sounds like you're enjoying yourself - lets face it, the only reason that we're taking out insurance is to pay the medical bills if we're ever run over by a bus while lying down in the sun on our holiday.
Taking out insurance just guarantees that you'll get the hospital treatment that you're actually entitled to get for free as an EU citizen anyway, its just that if your insurance company will pay for it then the Spanish government won't have to claim it back off the UK government, so we're actually doing them a huge fekkin favour by paying for it ourselves and they thank us for that by slapping a £30 tax bill on us.
I sometimes think it would be easier to just hand my pay cheque over to HM Government and ask them to feed and clothe me, it would be much, much easier.
annoyed....and jealous
Dropped off the nearly eighteen daughter at her restaurant job last night at 7pm.
Saturday night she normally finishes at either 11pm or 1am depending on how busy they are and who gets the early finish, either way I get the call to pick her up (see why I want her to pass her driving test now).
So I'm fast asleep in bed and I wake up at 00.30am and check the clock, she's obviously got a 1am finish now so I stay awake until just after 1am waiting for the call.
At 1.30am I send her a text message asking where she was, she replied almost instantly, too quickly I thought in my tangled half asleep mind to say that she had a lift sorted - well thanks for nothing I thought and tried to go back to sleep.
I have clues as to whether she's back in the house or not - I leave the landing light on and hse turns it off when she comes in so if I wake at some godforsaken hour and the landing light is still on then I know shes not back yet - its not for nothing that I was voted "spy of the year" for two years running at MI5 summer camp you know.
5.30am I hear the door alarm cheep as the front door opens - its nearly 18 daughter coming in, I check the clock, it really is 5.30 am and bad news for nearly 18 daughter - her mum has just woken up and wants to know what time I picked her up last night, I reply that I didn't pick her up, she's just arrived back under her own steam. She gets up immediately and is out on the landing waiting for nearly 18 daughter to come upstairs where they have an interrogation session that would not look out of place in a cheap 1950's war film - she got a lock in at the bar.
I'm annoyed that she's coming in at 5.30am, I'm annoyed that its light outside and she's coming home from a night out, I'm annoyed that she's discovered the delights of the lock-in, but it me I'm annoyed with. I'm bloody annoyed that it never happens to me any more and even if it did I'd still be at home tucked up in bed at midnight, I just can't be arsed with staying up all night any more, that sort of thing is for teenagers.
Now, what time shall I wake her up this morning ?
Saturday night she normally finishes at either 11pm or 1am depending on how busy they are and who gets the early finish, either way I get the call to pick her up (see why I want her to pass her driving test now).
So I'm fast asleep in bed and I wake up at 00.30am and check the clock, she's obviously got a 1am finish now so I stay awake until just after 1am waiting for the call.
At 1.30am I send her a text message asking where she was, she replied almost instantly, too quickly I thought in my tangled half asleep mind to say that she had a lift sorted - well thanks for nothing I thought and tried to go back to sleep.
I have clues as to whether she's back in the house or not - I leave the landing light on and hse turns it off when she comes in so if I wake at some godforsaken hour and the landing light is still on then I know shes not back yet - its not for nothing that I was voted "spy of the year" for two years running at MI5 summer camp you know.
5.30am I hear the door alarm cheep as the front door opens - its nearly 18 daughter coming in, I check the clock, it really is 5.30 am and bad news for nearly 18 daughter - her mum has just woken up and wants to know what time I picked her up last night, I reply that I didn't pick her up, she's just arrived back under her own steam. She gets up immediately and is out on the landing waiting for nearly 18 daughter to come upstairs where they have an interrogation session that would not look out of place in a cheap 1950's war film - she got a lock in at the bar.
I'm annoyed that she's coming in at 5.30am, I'm annoyed that its light outside and she's coming home from a night out, I'm annoyed that she's discovered the delights of the lock-in, but it me I'm annoyed with. I'm bloody annoyed that it never happens to me any more and even if it did I'd still be at home tucked up in bed at midnight, I just can't be arsed with staying up all night any more, that sort of thing is for teenagers.
Now, what time shall I wake her up this morning ?
Saturday, May 27, 2006
Out on the streets ...
The beauty of having a nearly 18 daughter is that you get to see parts of your city late at night that you wouldn't normally get to see.
Take last night for instance.
Headingley is a suburb of Leeds that in the last 20 years has transformed itself into student surburbia, its about halfway between the city centre and where we live on a direct route. I used to live in Headingley when I was a kid, it was a nice area to live in, lots of shops to keep our mum happy, lots of shops to drag us kids around on a saturday afternoon, an ordinary suburb, ordinary housing full of ordinary people, a cinema and two pubs.
The houses are now all student lets, all of them, and we are talking several hundred houses here. Consequently the demography of what was our mums "shopping area" has changed too, there are still a few shops selling groceries and so forth but most of what used to be shops are now bars and small restaurants, the two original pubs are still there with bouncers on the doors (still strange fo rme to see a pub with bouncers but they've all got them now), but I couldn't even hazard a guess now as to how many other bars there are, I did a visitors guide to Headingley on RLfans for visiting supporters of opposition teams and someone actually tried to list all of the bars on there, but that list is not exhaustive, just a recomendation of some of the better ones.
All of which is fine and dandy when you are a student living in a student house and having a hell of a time in your three years of complete reckless fecklessness, and yes I'm jealous that when I was 17 I had to go straight into work and only the top 5% went into further education (now only 5% of 17 year olds go into work, or so it seems) - think of the John Belushi film "Animal House" and you get the idea of a typical student house in Headingley, the lucky bastards.
But Headingley on a Friday night is not a place for faint hearted motorists.
Last night I was purloined by my nearly 18 year old daughter to give her a lift into Headingley after she'd finished work in a local bar - she was going out on the town at a time when I was considering going to bed, a surefire indicator that I am now entering my middle life grumpy old man phase.
The main road through Headingley is a main route into Leeds and is always busy through the day, you never drive through Headingley, you queue through Headingley, but at night the motorists are replaced by taxi drivers and police cars, both of whom use the two lane carriageway at random, seemingly ignoring the rule of "drive to the left" or "park only in designated spaces" - being a common tax paying driver in Headingley on Friday night is a bit like playing a video car chase game where you've actually spun your car around and are driving back into the oncoming traffic - am I the only one who does that ?
It was complete chaos in Headingley last night, you cannot drive through the crowds on the road in some places and where you can actually see some of the road then a taxi driver will quickly pull out of a side street, ignoring you, and then stop in the middle of the road to pick up a drunken fare.
100% of the young people on the road last night were drunk and having fun and god bless 'em thats how it should be in their young lives, but why does student life involve getting drunk as fast as you possibly can of a Friday night and then making a complete tit of yourself ?
At one point as I waited for the road to clear outside one of the busiest bars a young lad staggered over the road right in front of me, leaning on my car bonnet for support, the side of his face all grazed from a recent contact with the pavement, a bottle of beer still in one hand, eyes completly vacant, he came around the side of the car and opened my passenger door, poor kid thought I was a taxi because I'd stopped despite the fact that it was him that had made me stop.
If I'd been a lone female driver I could imagine that this may have been quite frightening but the universal language of drunks dictates that a simple "fuck off pal" will usually suffice in these circumstances, its happened to me before. It worked with this kid, he shut the door and was rescued by one of his mates who guided him to a proper taxi just as a police car pulled up alongside me and gave me a long hard stare, the terminally confused police officer trying to make some sense of the chaos on the streets, I shrugged my shoulders at him and moved off slowly.
Maybe its just me at my current age but I can't help but feel a tad jealous of these carefree kids while at the same time feel concerned for them out in that environment - I'd just dropped off my nearly 18 year old into that mayhem to meet some friends who had just travelled 100 miles to be in Headingley and Leeds last night, and she thought it was a fantastic atmosphere to be partying in, as a parent you have to let them go and hope that they don't come across the one person out there who wants to do them harm or steal from them - no doubt the daft lad who tried to get in my car last night has parents at home who were thinking just the same as me.
Take last night for instance.
Headingley is a suburb of Leeds that in the last 20 years has transformed itself into student surburbia, its about halfway between the city centre and where we live on a direct route. I used to live in Headingley when I was a kid, it was a nice area to live in, lots of shops to keep our mum happy, lots of shops to drag us kids around on a saturday afternoon, an ordinary suburb, ordinary housing full of ordinary people, a cinema and two pubs.
The houses are now all student lets, all of them, and we are talking several hundred houses here. Consequently the demography of what was our mums "shopping area" has changed too, there are still a few shops selling groceries and so forth but most of what used to be shops are now bars and small restaurants, the two original pubs are still there with bouncers on the doors (still strange fo rme to see a pub with bouncers but they've all got them now), but I couldn't even hazard a guess now as to how many other bars there are, I did a visitors guide to Headingley on RLfans for visiting supporters of opposition teams and someone actually tried to list all of the bars on there, but that list is not exhaustive, just a recomendation of some of the better ones.
All of which is fine and dandy when you are a student living in a student house and having a hell of a time in your three years of complete reckless fecklessness, and yes I'm jealous that when I was 17 I had to go straight into work and only the top 5% went into further education (now only 5% of 17 year olds go into work, or so it seems) - think of the John Belushi film "Animal House" and you get the idea of a typical student house in Headingley, the lucky bastards.
But Headingley on a Friday night is not a place for faint hearted motorists.
Last night I was purloined by my nearly 18 year old daughter to give her a lift into Headingley after she'd finished work in a local bar - she was going out on the town at a time when I was considering going to bed, a surefire indicator that I am now entering my middle life grumpy old man phase.
The main road through Headingley is a main route into Leeds and is always busy through the day, you never drive through Headingley, you queue through Headingley, but at night the motorists are replaced by taxi drivers and police cars, both of whom use the two lane carriageway at random, seemingly ignoring the rule of "drive to the left" or "park only in designated spaces" - being a common tax paying driver in Headingley on Friday night is a bit like playing a video car chase game where you've actually spun your car around and are driving back into the oncoming traffic - am I the only one who does that ?
It was complete chaos in Headingley last night, you cannot drive through the crowds on the road in some places and where you can actually see some of the road then a taxi driver will quickly pull out of a side street, ignoring you, and then stop in the middle of the road to pick up a drunken fare.
100% of the young people on the road last night were drunk and having fun and god bless 'em thats how it should be in their young lives, but why does student life involve getting drunk as fast as you possibly can of a Friday night and then making a complete tit of yourself ?
At one point as I waited for the road to clear outside one of the busiest bars a young lad staggered over the road right in front of me, leaning on my car bonnet for support, the side of his face all grazed from a recent contact with the pavement, a bottle of beer still in one hand, eyes completly vacant, he came around the side of the car and opened my passenger door, poor kid thought I was a taxi because I'd stopped despite the fact that it was him that had made me stop.
If I'd been a lone female driver I could imagine that this may have been quite frightening but the universal language of drunks dictates that a simple "fuck off pal" will usually suffice in these circumstances, its happened to me before. It worked with this kid, he shut the door and was rescued by one of his mates who guided him to a proper taxi just as a police car pulled up alongside me and gave me a long hard stare, the terminally confused police officer trying to make some sense of the chaos on the streets, I shrugged my shoulders at him and moved off slowly.
Maybe its just me at my current age but I can't help but feel a tad jealous of these carefree kids while at the same time feel concerned for them out in that environment - I'd just dropped off my nearly 18 year old into that mayhem to meet some friends who had just travelled 100 miles to be in Headingley and Leeds last night, and she thought it was a fantastic atmosphere to be partying in, as a parent you have to let them go and hope that they don't come across the one person out there who wants to do them harm or steal from them - no doubt the daft lad who tried to get in my car last night has parents at home who were thinking just the same as me.
Thursday, May 25, 2006
Phil Collins needs another divorce
Got listening to "Both Sides" on Napster last night, the album that Phil Collins recorded in his house after his seperation/divorce/skinning alive in the courtroom.
Its heartbreak central
It wrings with emotion in every line
Its superb
And he's written crap for Disney Corp ever since
Take these lyrics from "Everyday"
It picked me up, knocked me off my feet
I've got no way to explain
still I love you, love you, love you but this fire inside
will never see the light of day
So everyday goes by
and everyday I fall
it makes me wonder why,
my life's worth nothing without you
The book closes and we try to forget
but I know that things won't change
how we feel, how life goes on
and that seems so strange
And so the light fades away
try, try, try as I may
I can't stop thinking about you
it seems my life's worth nothing without you
But everyday I say I'll try
to make my heart be still
'til then every way there is to cry,
ourselves to sleep, we will
You can feel the angst in every line can't you ?
Wonderfull stuff
Now consider this one from the cartoon film "Tarzan"
For one so small,
you seem so strong
My arms will hold you,
keep you safe and warm
This bond between us
Can't be broken
I will be here
Don't you cry
'Cause you'll be in my heart
Yes, you'll be in my heart
From this day on
Now and forever more
You'll be in my heart
No matter what they say
You'll be here in my heart, always
I rest my case
You need some pain Mr Collins, get another divorce before your sales suffer too much.
Its heartbreak central
It wrings with emotion in every line
Its superb
And he's written crap for Disney Corp ever since
Take these lyrics from "Everyday"
It picked me up, knocked me off my feet
I've got no way to explain
still I love you, love you, love you but this fire inside
will never see the light of day
So everyday goes by
and everyday I fall
it makes me wonder why,
my life's worth nothing without you
The book closes and we try to forget
but I know that things won't change
how we feel, how life goes on
and that seems so strange
And so the light fades away
try, try, try as I may
I can't stop thinking about you
it seems my life's worth nothing without you
But everyday I say I'll try
to make my heart be still
'til then every way there is to cry,
ourselves to sleep, we will
You can feel the angst in every line can't you ?
Wonderfull stuff
Now consider this one from the cartoon film "Tarzan"
For one so small,
you seem so strong
My arms will hold you,
keep you safe and warm
This bond between us
Can't be broken
I will be here
Don't you cry
'Cause you'll be in my heart
Yes, you'll be in my heart
From this day on
Now and forever more
You'll be in my heart
No matter what they say
You'll be here in my heart, always
I rest my case
You need some pain Mr Collins, get another divorce before your sales suffer too much.
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
We were conned, bloody hell...
A couple of weeks ago we took a phone call in the office from a "Mr Khan" who wanted to buy some product from us, he came around to see us and took away several items leaving us with a cheque for £940 - its been returned unpaid by the bank.
We had his business address which is in a nearby town and so my brother went to pay him a visit only to find that a builder was on the premises redeveloping the building, the builder was owed a lot more money by Mr Khan than we were and gave my brother a phone number for the landlord of the building who was owed more money again.
The landlord told us that he was collecting a dossier of all the complaints againts his former tenant and was intending to present the facts to the police, so far he'd found fraud in the sum total of arund £68,000.
Last week he presented his findings to the police including the last known address of Mr Khan and on Monday the landlord rang me to give me the name and nunber of the CID officer that was dealing with the case.
I've just spoken to the officer today and he has told me that they will not be proceeding a case against Mr Khan as his misdemenour appears to be in the "civil domain", in the eyes of the police he has not obtained goods by deception, merely obtained goods then failed to pay his account - a civil matter that means that each individual company concerned has to persue Mr Khan through the civil courts to get their money, he then concluded by warning me that he knew of one company who had taken Mr Khan to court on three occasions in order to enforce an original order to make payments to them.
All of which means that we have to write off £940, I have no intention of taking the matter to a civil court as the procedure will cost more money and ultimately lead nowhere. We have been down this route before, have sued company's for money owed to us, have obtained a court ruling in our favour, and have collected the sum of precisely nothing as a result.
All that a court order does in these circumstances is confirm to you that the person owes you the money, well whoppee-fuckin-doo, we already know that, after receiving the court order (which you have to pay for of course) you can, if you wish, then try and enforce the order by trying to find the person concerned (paying someone else to do this for you) and then dragging them to court to get a promise to pay, or alternatively sending the bailiffs to the offenders premises to take goods to the value of his debt to you, both procedures cost you more money and ultimately lead you nowhere.
The court system is a huge joke when it comes to business debts, a judgment in your favour is not even worth the cost of the paper its printed on.
All of which means that Mr Khan has got away with his seven days of theiving from gullible company's, and yes I admit we were gullible, maybe he caught us with our guard down, yes we know we should have waited for his cheque to clear before releasing the goods, it won't happen again, and it wouldn't have happened inthe first place if my dad was still alive and running the business, then again he was racist and wouldn't have dealt with someone called Khan in the first place, or at least only if cash was involved. In this case, and it hurts to say this, but he was probably right.
Hey-ho, such is the roller coaster ride that is running a business in the UK in 2006.
We had his business address which is in a nearby town and so my brother went to pay him a visit only to find that a builder was on the premises redeveloping the building, the builder was owed a lot more money by Mr Khan than we were and gave my brother a phone number for the landlord of the building who was owed more money again.
The landlord told us that he was collecting a dossier of all the complaints againts his former tenant and was intending to present the facts to the police, so far he'd found fraud in the sum total of arund £68,000.
Last week he presented his findings to the police including the last known address of Mr Khan and on Monday the landlord rang me to give me the name and nunber of the CID officer that was dealing with the case.
I've just spoken to the officer today and he has told me that they will not be proceeding a case against Mr Khan as his misdemenour appears to be in the "civil domain", in the eyes of the police he has not obtained goods by deception, merely obtained goods then failed to pay his account - a civil matter that means that each individual company concerned has to persue Mr Khan through the civil courts to get their money, he then concluded by warning me that he knew of one company who had taken Mr Khan to court on three occasions in order to enforce an original order to make payments to them.
All of which means that we have to write off £940, I have no intention of taking the matter to a civil court as the procedure will cost more money and ultimately lead nowhere. We have been down this route before, have sued company's for money owed to us, have obtained a court ruling in our favour, and have collected the sum of precisely nothing as a result.
All that a court order does in these circumstances is confirm to you that the person owes you the money, well whoppee-fuckin-doo, we already know that, after receiving the court order (which you have to pay for of course) you can, if you wish, then try and enforce the order by trying to find the person concerned (paying someone else to do this for you) and then dragging them to court to get a promise to pay, or alternatively sending the bailiffs to the offenders premises to take goods to the value of his debt to you, both procedures cost you more money and ultimately lead you nowhere.
The court system is a huge joke when it comes to business debts, a judgment in your favour is not even worth the cost of the paper its printed on.
All of which means that Mr Khan has got away with his seven days of theiving from gullible company's, and yes I admit we were gullible, maybe he caught us with our guard down, yes we know we should have waited for his cheque to clear before releasing the goods, it won't happen again, and it wouldn't have happened inthe first place if my dad was still alive and running the business, then again he was racist and wouldn't have dealt with someone called Khan in the first place, or at least only if cash was involved. In this case, and it hurts to say this, but he was probably right.
Hey-ho, such is the roller coaster ride that is running a business in the UK in 2006.
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
Its time...
Aw poo,
I've been trying to find something different to write about tonight, a distraction of some kind but there is no getting around this, Suzannes mum died this afternoon, finally gave up trying to hang onto life, stopped the family having to make the impossible decision about when to disconnect the ventillator.
Its been a big thing hanging over all six of her children since easter, shes been ill, then recovered, had three heart attacks and recovered, had all her organs stop working and recovered and even last night the doctors were baffled by how this woman was sitting up in bed talking to everyone when all of the machines were saying that her lungs were not inflated properly but her SATS were still high - its been hard for them all, medical staff included.
But she left them around 3pm this afternoon and I came home and told our kids that their grandma had died, just plain and simple like that no fancy language, "your grandma died this afternoon" and the sad fact that hung over that sentence is that she is the last grandparent that they had, Amanda was matter of fact, we'd been expecting it since easter after all, but I'm not so sure about Jodie, shes a bit too quiet tonight and she doesn't want to ring her mum to speak to her, I need to keep an eye on her I think.
Its supposed to be a great subject for jokes is "the mother in law" but to be honest both of my parents in law have been great to me over the years. I moved up to Newcastle when I was 19 and for the first two years didn't have any kind of a firm base, lived in guest houses and hotels, sometimes didn't speak to anyone on an evening for a whole week which was kiind of hard coming from a huge circle of friends in Leeds.
But then I met Suzanne and the first time she took me to her home I was just taken in, plain and simple, no fuss, just "sit down and heres some of our food to share", thats the way it is inthe northeast, they are very hospitable people and my in-laws treated me as if I were one of their own six offspring rather than the outsider that I was.
So it'll be a trip to the northeast later on this week to collect Suzanne and her stuff and then back again next week for the funeral and then when all is done we have no special reason for going up there on visits again, which is the main reason why I want to buy a mobile home in Northumberland so that we keep in contact with her brother and sister who still live there, apart from which its also one of the most beautiful areas in this whole country and I need to get away from the frikkin office on a weekend.
In the meantime I'm writing tonight, another episode in the story of me, this chapter is about working mens clubs and amulititude of stories of crap club turns and after hours fights, which sort of links me back to the in-laws because some of the funniest nights I've spent were in the WMC over the road from where they used to live, sounds funny saying "used to live" now, but thats the reality now they're both gone.
When I've got a draft of the WMC chapter I'll post a link on the JerryChicken.com web site.
I've been trying to find something different to write about tonight, a distraction of some kind but there is no getting around this, Suzannes mum died this afternoon, finally gave up trying to hang onto life, stopped the family having to make the impossible decision about when to disconnect the ventillator.
Its been a big thing hanging over all six of her children since easter, shes been ill, then recovered, had three heart attacks and recovered, had all her organs stop working and recovered and even last night the doctors were baffled by how this woman was sitting up in bed talking to everyone when all of the machines were saying that her lungs were not inflated properly but her SATS were still high - its been hard for them all, medical staff included.
But she left them around 3pm this afternoon and I came home and told our kids that their grandma had died, just plain and simple like that no fancy language, "your grandma died this afternoon" and the sad fact that hung over that sentence is that she is the last grandparent that they had, Amanda was matter of fact, we'd been expecting it since easter after all, but I'm not so sure about Jodie, shes a bit too quiet tonight and she doesn't want to ring her mum to speak to her, I need to keep an eye on her I think.
Its supposed to be a great subject for jokes is "the mother in law" but to be honest both of my parents in law have been great to me over the years. I moved up to Newcastle when I was 19 and for the first two years didn't have any kind of a firm base, lived in guest houses and hotels, sometimes didn't speak to anyone on an evening for a whole week which was kiind of hard coming from a huge circle of friends in Leeds.
But then I met Suzanne and the first time she took me to her home I was just taken in, plain and simple, no fuss, just "sit down and heres some of our food to share", thats the way it is inthe northeast, they are very hospitable people and my in-laws treated me as if I were one of their own six offspring rather than the outsider that I was.
So it'll be a trip to the northeast later on this week to collect Suzanne and her stuff and then back again next week for the funeral and then when all is done we have no special reason for going up there on visits again, which is the main reason why I want to buy a mobile home in Northumberland so that we keep in contact with her brother and sister who still live there, apart from which its also one of the most beautiful areas in this whole country and I need to get away from the frikkin office on a weekend.
In the meantime I'm writing tonight, another episode in the story of me, this chapter is about working mens clubs and amulititude of stories of crap club turns and after hours fights, which sort of links me back to the in-laws because some of the funniest nights I've spent were in the WMC over the road from where they used to live, sounds funny saying "used to live" now, but thats the reality now they're both gone.
When I've got a draft of the WMC chapter I'll post a link on the JerryChicken.com web site.
Monday, May 22, 2006
Problem - defending the kicker
Disclaimer - This post will be totally meaningless to anyone who is not a supporter, or has never watched a game of either code of rugby.
Saturday I went to Stanningley to watch my first NL3 game of the season, we do some minor sponsorship of Bramley Rugby League club so its only right that I should turn up now and again but I've been so busy this year that this was the first opportunity I got.
Anyway,
One problem in rugby is that when a player wishes to kick the ball upfield he is always very vulnerable to a late tackle from the opposition after the ball has left his foot, quite often the referee is following the flight of the ball and is unsighted when the kicker is hit late, and the kicker is also unprepared for a late hit and can often be badly hurt, while the tackler just claims that he mistimed his tackle.
I saw the ideal solution to this problem on saturday.
A Bramley player had put in a huge kick and as he landed we could see a Hemel player moving in on him, unfortunately this Bramley player has been hit late several times in the past and as he landed he made sure his elbow was raised at around, well around head height actually.
The Hemel player hit him hard but had obviously not seen the raised elbow which caught him right on the jawline.
He went down like a sack of spuds (as they say in these parts) and took no further part in the game and I understand was later taken to the A&E department at Leeds General Infirmary, I think its safe to say he won't be putting in any more late tackles on kickers despite what his coach tells him to do.
I love rugby league :)
Saturday I went to Stanningley to watch my first NL3 game of the season, we do some minor sponsorship of Bramley Rugby League club so its only right that I should turn up now and again but I've been so busy this year that this was the first opportunity I got.
Anyway,
One problem in rugby is that when a player wishes to kick the ball upfield he is always very vulnerable to a late tackle from the opposition after the ball has left his foot, quite often the referee is following the flight of the ball and is unsighted when the kicker is hit late, and the kicker is also unprepared for a late hit and can often be badly hurt, while the tackler just claims that he mistimed his tackle.
I saw the ideal solution to this problem on saturday.
A Bramley player had put in a huge kick and as he landed we could see a Hemel player moving in on him, unfortunately this Bramley player has been hit late several times in the past and as he landed he made sure his elbow was raised at around, well around head height actually.
The Hemel player hit him hard but had obviously not seen the raised elbow which caught him right on the jawline.
He went down like a sack of spuds (as they say in these parts) and took no further part in the game and I understand was later taken to the A&E department at Leeds General Infirmary, I think its safe to say he won't be putting in any more late tackles on kickers despite what his coach tells him to do.
I love rugby league :)
Thursday, May 18, 2006
Its near the end now, or is it ?
Nearly another week of turmoil and headless chicken running around at work and no time to blog, coupled with the news bulletins from Newcastle that Suzannes mum has dropped to a new low after her perk-up at the weekend and remained on the high dependancy ward breathing with the aid of a respirator all week.
The hospital staff don't know how she is still alive after three heart attacks since easter, no kidney or bowel functions at all now and her diabetes putting her blood through hell with two transfusions needed recently - oh yes, with no bowel or kidney function she fills up with fluid every few days or so which affects the already seriously inconvenienced lung capacity, which then lowers her oxygen levels and place strain on the heart again and around we go again on the "just get her stabilised" routine.
And then every seven days or so she sits up in bed, takes off the ventillator, eats breakfast and sits and chats with the family as though theres nothing wrong with her, and the doctors all stand there scratching their heads and muttering "how the fuck does she do that"
But yesterday her consultant informed the family that she was very low now and with all major organs failed it was time to consider whether or not she should be sedated and the respirator removed and just let nature take its course, and it would take its course very quickly he warned.
With the family living all over the country there were several hours of frantic phone calls last night but all six of her children agreed that the consultant was right, there is no future in a ventillator keeping her alive just so that they don't have to let go, the next heart attack will probably claim her and she may suffer at the end with that, the dilema is of course that you know that when the ventillator comes off then you have just agreed to kill her.
Its not the way that I look at it because the person that she once was has gone now and cannot possibly return, the person in the bed could not even be moved to the CAT scan room yesterday for a lung scan as she would not have survived the lifting and moving, so my opinion was to follow the doctors advice, not that they asked my opinion, she's not my mother, its up to her children to decide and I won't get involved.
The decision just about agreed upon (there were still some doubts in two minds) the family started gathering in Newcastle again, I drove Suzanne up there again this afternoon, one of her brothers rode his motorbike all the way from London to arrive at the same time as we did, and the other one in London is arriving tomorrow.
We arrived to be told that she's sitting up in bed again talking to one of her daughters in law.
Which throws the question completely up in the air again - its one thing to agree to have you mother taken off a ventillator when shes been unconcious for the best part of a week and fading away in front of you, but its quite another thing to sit talking lucidly to her knowing that tomorrow you are going to agree to let the nursing staff remove the one thing thats keeping her alive and talking to you.
It sounds awfully cruel to say it but I'm sure that most of them are hoping that another heart attack will solve the unanswerable question for them.
The hospital staff don't know how she is still alive after three heart attacks since easter, no kidney or bowel functions at all now and her diabetes putting her blood through hell with two transfusions needed recently - oh yes, with no bowel or kidney function she fills up with fluid every few days or so which affects the already seriously inconvenienced lung capacity, which then lowers her oxygen levels and place strain on the heart again and around we go again on the "just get her stabilised" routine.
And then every seven days or so she sits up in bed, takes off the ventillator, eats breakfast and sits and chats with the family as though theres nothing wrong with her, and the doctors all stand there scratching their heads and muttering "how the fuck does she do that"
But yesterday her consultant informed the family that she was very low now and with all major organs failed it was time to consider whether or not she should be sedated and the respirator removed and just let nature take its course, and it would take its course very quickly he warned.
With the family living all over the country there were several hours of frantic phone calls last night but all six of her children agreed that the consultant was right, there is no future in a ventillator keeping her alive just so that they don't have to let go, the next heart attack will probably claim her and she may suffer at the end with that, the dilema is of course that you know that when the ventillator comes off then you have just agreed to kill her.
Its not the way that I look at it because the person that she once was has gone now and cannot possibly return, the person in the bed could not even be moved to the CAT scan room yesterday for a lung scan as she would not have survived the lifting and moving, so my opinion was to follow the doctors advice, not that they asked my opinion, she's not my mother, its up to her children to decide and I won't get involved.
The decision just about agreed upon (there were still some doubts in two minds) the family started gathering in Newcastle again, I drove Suzanne up there again this afternoon, one of her brothers rode his motorbike all the way from London to arrive at the same time as we did, and the other one in London is arriving tomorrow.
We arrived to be told that she's sitting up in bed again talking to one of her daughters in law.
Which throws the question completely up in the air again - its one thing to agree to have you mother taken off a ventillator when shes been unconcious for the best part of a week and fading away in front of you, but its quite another thing to sit talking lucidly to her knowing that tomorrow you are going to agree to let the nursing staff remove the one thing thats keeping her alive and talking to you.
It sounds awfully cruel to say it but I'm sure that most of them are hoping that another heart attack will solve the unanswerable question for them.
Monday, May 15, 2006
When its good to be the boss
Sometimes its good when you're the boss of your own small business.
The times when you get to tell tiresome custoemrs that they don't count are the best.
I had someone ring me this morning, and I'd been expecting her call, to complain that I hadn't sent the three employee ID cards that she'd ordered last week even though she'd stressed in the email just HOW IMPORTANT they were to her organisation.
We print "swipe cards" as part of our business, usually they have a logo and they are individually numbered and usually customers are ordering anything from 20 to 500 of the things, we just set the parameters on the computer and let the thing run off as many as we need.
And then occasionally we get pain in the arse customers who want employee photos putting on the cards, which isn't too much of a pain in the arse if they wany say 20 or 50 doing and the photos are stored in a database, again we set the parameters and let the computer run.
But this customer orders photo cards one at a time, sometimes just one a month sometimes three per week, but all individually, which means setting the whole thing up just for one card to run off - ok its not a massive pain in the arse but it still breaks you off from doing something more constructive and for £2.95 per card this customer is hardly going to make us millionaires anytime soon - so we tend to wait until they have two or three to do so that it makes the invoicing worthwhile, because of course they need billing on their 30 day account which then never gets paid for 60 days - you should by now be agreeing with me - pain in the arse.
So she rang this morning and asked for the company manager, I always love this bit because more often than not they are ringing to complain about me, she asked my name, I told her, she just said "oh", she asked again if I was the manager, I told her I owned the business, she paused and then with a deep breath let fly with her complaint - it was taking far too long to return these photo cards etc etc etc, I didn't really listen to the rest.
She finished with "...can you tell me why you take so long to return them ?"
I replied that an order for one single card wasn't really going to capture our attention or make its way to the top of the priority list, she was stunned into silence.
But stunned just for a few seconds before letting fly with another litany of complaint all voiced without the need to inhale, basically she was disgusted with my attitude and couldn't believe what I had just told her.
I reminded her that she had asked for a reason and that I had very reasonably told the truth and not tried to bullshit her, she didn't have to like the truth but there it was anyway, her one card custom wasn't really all that important to us, bear with us, we'll see to it when we have nothing else prioritised.
She put the phone down in a right temper and I'm sitting here now waiting for her boss to ring so that I can tell him exactly the same thing over again, the funny thing is that I'd printed the cards five minutes before she rang but I wasn't going to tell her that, I love it when customers lose it over teeny weeny little things and I have the freedom of choice as to whether I give a damn or not.
The times when you get to tell tiresome custoemrs that they don't count are the best.
I had someone ring me this morning, and I'd been expecting her call, to complain that I hadn't sent the three employee ID cards that she'd ordered last week even though she'd stressed in the email just HOW IMPORTANT they were to her organisation.
We print "swipe cards" as part of our business, usually they have a logo and they are individually numbered and usually customers are ordering anything from 20 to 500 of the things, we just set the parameters on the computer and let the thing run off as many as we need.
And then occasionally we get pain in the arse customers who want employee photos putting on the cards, which isn't too much of a pain in the arse if they wany say 20 or 50 doing and the photos are stored in a database, again we set the parameters and let the computer run.
But this customer orders photo cards one at a time, sometimes just one a month sometimes three per week, but all individually, which means setting the whole thing up just for one card to run off - ok its not a massive pain in the arse but it still breaks you off from doing something more constructive and for £2.95 per card this customer is hardly going to make us millionaires anytime soon - so we tend to wait until they have two or three to do so that it makes the invoicing worthwhile, because of course they need billing on their 30 day account which then never gets paid for 60 days - you should by now be agreeing with me - pain in the arse.
So she rang this morning and asked for the company manager, I always love this bit because more often than not they are ringing to complain about me, she asked my name, I told her, she just said "oh", she asked again if I was the manager, I told her I owned the business, she paused and then with a deep breath let fly with her complaint - it was taking far too long to return these photo cards etc etc etc, I didn't really listen to the rest.
She finished with "...can you tell me why you take so long to return them ?"
I replied that an order for one single card wasn't really going to capture our attention or make its way to the top of the priority list, she was stunned into silence.
But stunned just for a few seconds before letting fly with another litany of complaint all voiced without the need to inhale, basically she was disgusted with my attitude and couldn't believe what I had just told her.
I reminded her that she had asked for a reason and that I had very reasonably told the truth and not tried to bullshit her, she didn't have to like the truth but there it was anyway, her one card custom wasn't really all that important to us, bear with us, we'll see to it when we have nothing else prioritised.
She put the phone down in a right temper and I'm sitting here now waiting for her boss to ring so that I can tell him exactly the same thing over again, the funny thing is that I'd printed the cards five minutes before she rang but I wasn't going to tell her that, I love it when customers lose it over teeny weeny little things and I have the freedom of choice as to whether I give a damn or not.
Sunday, May 14, 2006
Jerry Chicken - The Vegas Days
At 50 years of age (nearly, in september to be accurate) I decided some time ago that it was time to get something of my life down on paper, not that I've had a particularly exciting or variable life, but still, my teenage years were spent living through the most exciting decade (or 15 years) of popular music and its associated cultures and so that much at least is worth writing about.
And so the Jerry Chicken project started at JerryChicken.co.uk and the latest chapter is The Vegas Days, its not actually on the web sites menu yet but that link will take you to the as yet unedited page, its what I've spent the last few days working on rather than blogging, decide for yourself whether it was worth it.
And so the Jerry Chicken project started at JerryChicken.co.uk and the latest chapter is The Vegas Days, its not actually on the web sites menu yet but that link will take you to the as yet unedited page, its what I've spent the last few days working on rather than blogging, decide for yourself whether it was worth it.
Saturday, May 13, 2006
More bad news...
Yesterday afternoon while we awaited news from the north east there was the small matter of Amanda taking her driving test again, and while I sat in the office ready to ring the insurance company and be frightened silly by the quote to add her onto Suzannes car policy, Amanda was driving the streets of Horsforth in an attempt to convince the examiner that she should be let loose on the unsuspecting road using public of Leeds.
She failed.
She failed for the strangest of reasons - undue hesitation.
In the six months that she has been taking lessons I have also been taking her out in Suzannes car and whenever we have stood at road junctions I have always told her to wait until she is absolutely sure that it is safe to proceed. Most road accidents, probably all road accidents that are not on motorways, occur at junctions and so it seems to be no problem to me for anyone to wait for a few more seconds, or even minutes, until they themselves are totally confident of completing the manouvre without causing problems for other road users.
Apparently this attitude is wrong, according to the examiners you should proceed across junctions with all due haste and without hesitation - it explains a lot of what I see on the roads.
From the hospital yesterday came news that Suzannes mother had "perked up a bit" when her two sons travelled up from London to be with her in her final moments, she's a fighter and while the hospital staff say that there is no chance of a recovery she doesn't seem to be listening to them, as always there is nothing else for them to do but sit by the bedside and wait.
She failed.
She failed for the strangest of reasons - undue hesitation.
In the six months that she has been taking lessons I have also been taking her out in Suzannes car and whenever we have stood at road junctions I have always told her to wait until she is absolutely sure that it is safe to proceed. Most road accidents, probably all road accidents that are not on motorways, occur at junctions and so it seems to be no problem to me for anyone to wait for a few more seconds, or even minutes, until they themselves are totally confident of completing the manouvre without causing problems for other road users.
Apparently this attitude is wrong, according to the examiners you should proceed across junctions with all due haste and without hesitation - it explains a lot of what I see on the roads.
From the hospital yesterday came news that Suzannes mother had "perked up a bit" when her two sons travelled up from London to be with her in her final moments, she's a fighter and while the hospital staff say that there is no chance of a recovery she doesn't seem to be listening to them, as always there is nothing else for them to do but sit by the bedside and wait.
Friday, May 12, 2006
Waiting for bad news...
Yesterday afternoon we got the call that we had been expecting from Suzannes sister in the north east, her mother has been in hospital for some weeks now after her heart attack at easter and in the last week has had multiple organ failure, one problem after another, something picks up and another things stops working, one set of drugs work here, but cause problems elsewhere, medicine is often a balancing act but often the body will fight back against the drugs that are supposed to be helping it.
And so we got the call "get up here now, she hasn't got much time" and we left home at 4pm on the two hour trip to Newcastle, receiving text messages all the way from her five other brothers and sisters as to what was happening and where were we now ?
Made the trip in almost record time without breaking the speed limit (much) but then got stuck in a 45 minute traffic queue at the Tyne Tunnel, not funny.
We got there in time and I dropped Suzanne off and left her with her family and returned home to Leeds to look after our family, the call later on in the night was that the ventillator was the only thing keeping her alive and it was now just a matter of "when" rather than "if".
So I await news from the northeast, its lunchtime now and I've heard nothing and I can't ring Suzanne as her phone has to be switched off in the hospital, but it looks fairly certain that we'll be planning a funeral for next wek.
And so we got the call "get up here now, she hasn't got much time" and we left home at 4pm on the two hour trip to Newcastle, receiving text messages all the way from her five other brothers and sisters as to what was happening and where were we now ?
Made the trip in almost record time without breaking the speed limit (much) but then got stuck in a 45 minute traffic queue at the Tyne Tunnel, not funny.
We got there in time and I dropped Suzanne off and left her with her family and returned home to Leeds to look after our family, the call later on in the night was that the ventillator was the only thing keeping her alive and it was now just a matter of "when" rather than "if".
So I await news from the northeast, its lunchtime now and I've heard nothing and I can't ring Suzanne as her phone has to be switched off in the hospital, but it looks fairly certain that we'll be planning a funeral for next wek.
Thursday, May 11, 2006
Haven't you heard, its bad for you ...
Dropped the two offspring off at their high school this morning and as I drove away there was the sight that I hate more than almost anything in the world - young kids smoking.
A whole group of them outside the school gate, some only looked around 12/13 years old, all puffing away on a ciggie before going into school - if it wasn't illegal to do so I'd love to bang their heads together and ask them if they thought those lessons on biology and "personal development" that they have in school are just a joke or perhaps a work of fiction to be studied along with Dickens and Shakespeare.
Of course, and it has to be said, many of these children will simply be copying the habit from parents and who knows, perhaps some of them have been addicted to nictoine since they ingested it in the womb ?
I can sympathise with smokers, some of my friends still smoke and promise me that they cannot give up the habit, one of them has not smoked for 20 years but swears that if he was ever given six months to live then he'd start smoking again, such was the pleasure that he got from a stick of tobacco first thing in a morning.
But there can be no excuse now for people who start smoking in the face of all the accumulated data, no-one would condone the sale of heroin in shops even if they did have a "warning, injecting heroin can damage your health" on the packet, so why can we be so blase about watching young children start on a lifetime of addiction to something that ultimately will damage their health in so many ways ?
Not that my own family is without blame - our eldest daughter went through a short phase of smoking a couple of years ago, she alwasy denied it to us saying that she was looking after the cigarettes for a friend (like we'd never heard that one before) but after a few months of of ridicule, despairing shakes of the head from me, and "I thought you knew better" type comments she dropped the habit, fortunately.
Apart from all that, I need these kids to be fit, healthy and working and paying taxes to support me and my meagre state pension in 15 years time.
A whole group of them outside the school gate, some only looked around 12/13 years old, all puffing away on a ciggie before going into school - if it wasn't illegal to do so I'd love to bang their heads together and ask them if they thought those lessons on biology and "personal development" that they have in school are just a joke or perhaps a work of fiction to be studied along with Dickens and Shakespeare.
Of course, and it has to be said, many of these children will simply be copying the habit from parents and who knows, perhaps some of them have been addicted to nictoine since they ingested it in the womb ?
I can sympathise with smokers, some of my friends still smoke and promise me that they cannot give up the habit, one of them has not smoked for 20 years but swears that if he was ever given six months to live then he'd start smoking again, such was the pleasure that he got from a stick of tobacco first thing in a morning.
But there can be no excuse now for people who start smoking in the face of all the accumulated data, no-one would condone the sale of heroin in shops even if they did have a "warning, injecting heroin can damage your health" on the packet, so why can we be so blase about watching young children start on a lifetime of addiction to something that ultimately will damage their health in so many ways ?
Not that my own family is without blame - our eldest daughter went through a short phase of smoking a couple of years ago, she alwasy denied it to us saying that she was looking after the cigarettes for a friend (like we'd never heard that one before) but after a few months of of ridicule, despairing shakes of the head from me, and "I thought you knew better" type comments she dropped the habit, fortunately.
Apart from all that, I need these kids to be fit, healthy and working and paying taxes to support me and my meagre state pension in 15 years time.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Selling finance II
Munching on my sandwich, browsing t'interweb this lunchtime I clicked on our NatWest web site and clicked on "loans".
Just before I clicked I noticed a note informing me that someone could speak to me via a live webchat if I wished, clicked away anyway and entered all the numbers and got an instant quote.
Was just reading the quote when a big red box popped up and there was Habib from Birmingham asking if he could assist in any way, "bloody hell" I thought, "thats good" and clicked the NO option.
Nothing personal Habib its just that I was in the middle of a sandwich but nice try anyway.
Just before I clicked I noticed a note informing me that someone could speak to me via a live webchat if I wished, clicked away anyway and entered all the numbers and got an instant quote.
Was just reading the quote when a big red box popped up and there was Habib from Birmingham asking if he could assist in any way, "bloody hell" I thought, "thats good" and clicked the NO option.
Nothing personal Habib its just that I was in the middle of a sandwich but nice try anyway.
Selling finance
We are always being informed in the media just how easy it is to dig yourself into a very deep financial hole with easy money lending schemes, and last night this was illustrated to me in a phone call.
On sunday evening I was browsing t'interweb looking at finance sites with a view to borrowing about £8000 for a caravan, sorry, holiday home, purchase. The bank sites were on the whole very helpful giving online approximate repayment figures for any term that you chose. It was still very easy to click "proceed" to actually submit an application but I'd hope that at that point the checking and dilligence process would come into play, humans would get involved and a computer wouldn't just send you £8000 tomorrow - I'd hope that is how it works anyway.
But I happened to browse upon another web site that simply promised to organise loans for any purpose, I'd never heard of them and they seemed to be just "fixers" referring you to other loan providers. I started to fill in the first bits then got bored and logged out.
Last night (monday) I got a phone call at home from a chap from the aforementioned loan fixers who wanted to know what I wanted the money for, could he help, etc etc. With nothing to lose I explained what the loan was for and he went away to search my credit history.
Five minutes later he came back and offered me a loan of £25,500.
I explained that I really only wanted £8000, and that was only a "possible" and not a "definite", but he'd seen some old loans and guarantees for the business on my credit history and decided that maybe I'd like to "wrap them all up into one loan".
Apart from the fact that one of the loans was no longer in existance and another loan was actually in the business name and is completed in November of this year, he seemed convinced that it would be a great idea if I "wrapped all this up" with the holiday home loan and spent the next seven years paying a sum which would be in excess of my current mortgage back to his company.
It would be so easy to just say yes.
Especially as the sum of £25500 would buy you a superb "holiday home" after you'd paid off the credit cards.
I didn't say "yes", but its easy to see how people, and not stupid people either, could be seduced by such offers and find that in a couple of years time when they apply for a simple store card or want to remortgage to a cheaper deal that their credit history suddenly looks very grim with a massive £25500 loan against their name.
Its frighteningly easy.
On sunday evening I was browsing t'interweb looking at finance sites with a view to borrowing about £8000 for a caravan, sorry, holiday home, purchase. The bank sites were on the whole very helpful giving online approximate repayment figures for any term that you chose. It was still very easy to click "proceed" to actually submit an application but I'd hope that at that point the checking and dilligence process would come into play, humans would get involved and a computer wouldn't just send you £8000 tomorrow - I'd hope that is how it works anyway.
But I happened to browse upon another web site that simply promised to organise loans for any purpose, I'd never heard of them and they seemed to be just "fixers" referring you to other loan providers. I started to fill in the first bits then got bored and logged out.
Last night (monday) I got a phone call at home from a chap from the aforementioned loan fixers who wanted to know what I wanted the money for, could he help, etc etc. With nothing to lose I explained what the loan was for and he went away to search my credit history.
Five minutes later he came back and offered me a loan of £25,500.
I explained that I really only wanted £8000, and that was only a "possible" and not a "definite", but he'd seen some old loans and guarantees for the business on my credit history and decided that maybe I'd like to "wrap them all up into one loan".
Apart from the fact that one of the loans was no longer in existance and another loan was actually in the business name and is completed in November of this year, he seemed convinced that it would be a great idea if I "wrapped all this up" with the holiday home loan and spent the next seven years paying a sum which would be in excess of my current mortgage back to his company.
It would be so easy to just say yes.
Especially as the sum of £25500 would buy you a superb "holiday home" after you'd paid off the credit cards.
I didn't say "yes", but its easy to see how people, and not stupid people either, could be seduced by such offers and find that in a couple of years time when they apply for a simple store card or want to remortgage to a cheaper deal that their credit history suddenly looks very grim with a massive £25500 loan against their name.
Its frighteningly easy.
Monday, May 08, 2006
Oh dear, I'm turning old...
First of all - I sold two more paintings today to someone in alabama - yippeeee !
I'm running out of stuff to stick on the web site so must get painting again soon, for the first time in her life suzanne can't complain about me spending all my time stood at the easel - because its selling :)
Anyhow,
I'm officially turning old, middle-aged at least.
Why ?
Because I'm actually thinking of buying a frickin caravan.
In my defence its a static one, its on a site in beautiful Northumberland so it won't ever go on the road and annoy the hell out of motorists, in fact its not a caravan - its a "holiday home", there, that sounds better, I can still hate caravanners if I own a "holiday home".
But its such an old fogey thing to do, I don't know why I want to do this, if you'd asked me three months ago I'd have told you without hesitation, even before you'd finished the sentence, I'd have told you to fekk right off, no way would I become a sad old bastard who sat in their tin holiday home every weekend staring out through the rain at the sheep in the next field, no way would I have done that.
But Suzannes sister has bought one, and one of her brothers uses the same site and with her mother facing a long term health problem it just seems to fit nicely with the idea that we should return to the north east and have some sort of a base there to keep in touch with her family - see what I'm doing, I'm making an excuse already, bugger it, I'm an old git who wants to sit in his tin holiday home and watch it rain on sheep all weekend.
Our kids of course hate the idea, which is just fine and hunky dory by me, they are old enough to leave at home while we travel oop north so fekk 'em, its time they stood on their own two feet and learned that we can abandon them even if its just for two days every few weeks.
It didn't take Jodie too long to work out that if we did have a tin box in a field in Northumberland then we might forsake our annual holiday to Menorca next year, she's a bright kid, yes its true Jodie, we might just choose to forsake the pleasure of spending four thousand pounds for two weeks in august, it might just come to that, and frankly my dear, I don't give a damn.
I'll be growing a grey beard and wearing sandals with socks on soon.
I'm running out of stuff to stick on the web site so must get painting again soon, for the first time in her life suzanne can't complain about me spending all my time stood at the easel - because its selling :)
Anyhow,
I'm officially turning old, middle-aged at least.
Why ?
Because I'm actually thinking of buying a frickin caravan.
In my defence its a static one, its on a site in beautiful Northumberland so it won't ever go on the road and annoy the hell out of motorists, in fact its not a caravan - its a "holiday home", there, that sounds better, I can still hate caravanners if I own a "holiday home".
But its such an old fogey thing to do, I don't know why I want to do this, if you'd asked me three months ago I'd have told you without hesitation, even before you'd finished the sentence, I'd have told you to fekk right off, no way would I become a sad old bastard who sat in their tin holiday home every weekend staring out through the rain at the sheep in the next field, no way would I have done that.
But Suzannes sister has bought one, and one of her brothers uses the same site and with her mother facing a long term health problem it just seems to fit nicely with the idea that we should return to the north east and have some sort of a base there to keep in touch with her family - see what I'm doing, I'm making an excuse already, bugger it, I'm an old git who wants to sit in his tin holiday home and watch it rain on sheep all weekend.
Our kids of course hate the idea, which is just fine and hunky dory by me, they are old enough to leave at home while we travel oop north so fekk 'em, its time they stood on their own two feet and learned that we can abandon them even if its just for two days every few weeks.
It didn't take Jodie too long to work out that if we did have a tin box in a field in Northumberland then we might forsake our annual holiday to Menorca next year, she's a bright kid, yes its true Jodie, we might just choose to forsake the pleasure of spending four thousand pounds for two weeks in august, it might just come to that, and frankly my dear, I don't give a damn.
I'll be growing a grey beard and wearing sandals with socks on soon.
Saturday, May 06, 2006
Random ramblings and a rant
The fish are back !
Or rather they've woken up again being as they can't really leave the pond at any time.
Cleaned the pond of all the plants and surface weed that had grown over the past few months, there are no tadpoles to be seen now so they are either all in the depths of the pond somewhere wondering whether or not they should become frogs any time soon, or they've been eaten by my fish.
The pond was too murky after Id dredged it out last night so when I peeked a look in it today I was wellpleased to see my eight huge Golden Orfes had all survived their winter hibernation, even the firkin huge one that is now around four or five years old and is getting on for a foot long now, they'll be fed tonight although I don't expect them to take food just yet, but I have my suspicions about where all the tadpoles go every year.
********************************************************************************
The local council elections took place on Thursday and the Morley area of Leeds elected a BNP representative in favour of the usual three party choices plus a Green thrown in for good measure.
For those not familiar with British Politics, the BNP don't really have a manefesto for the country in the same way that most political party's do, their aim is to, (and I quote while seething), "represent the British white working class voters who have been marginalised by the major parties and their political correct pandering to non-white minorities".
I have carefully quoted that from Nick Griffin their leader who is well known to the British court system for his racist and inciting views, the best thing that can be said for the BNP is that they show just how democratic this country can be when we tolorate fekkwits like them to actually be allowed to share a ballot paper with genuine political parties and people who actually want to serve their electorate.
The suprising thing about the local elections is that the party of fuckwits can find enough similar minded fuckwits to vote for them, if we had a BNP representative in our ward ( which we never will as they prey on low income white working class areas) then I would want to know how he was going to represent me on our local council, how he was going to vote on the police budget for instance when the police spend so much time hounding him and his racist chums at their clandestine meetings, how he was going to vote on local issues such as when do our dustbins get emptied and what would he do if we had a black binman, and at what point would he press our local council to repatriate tens of thousands of British Asians and what the fuck has that got to do with local council affairs anyway ?
Thankfully when it comes to national elections the BNP do nothing, they have never had a Member of Parliament in their party and with proper publicity they never will.
********************************************************************************
Tomorrow we take a quick trip to the north east on hospital visiting duty, and we're also going to look at a caravan.
I never thought I'd ever write that last bit.
I'm saying nothing for the time being but a small piece of Northumberland may yet be ours when we purchase the tin box and its bedding plant heaven location.
Or rather they've woken up again being as they can't really leave the pond at any time.
Cleaned the pond of all the plants and surface weed that had grown over the past few months, there are no tadpoles to be seen now so they are either all in the depths of the pond somewhere wondering whether or not they should become frogs any time soon, or they've been eaten by my fish.
The pond was too murky after Id dredged it out last night so when I peeked a look in it today I was wellpleased to see my eight huge Golden Orfes had all survived their winter hibernation, even the firkin huge one that is now around four or five years old and is getting on for a foot long now, they'll be fed tonight although I don't expect them to take food just yet, but I have my suspicions about where all the tadpoles go every year.
********************************************************************************
The local council elections took place on Thursday and the Morley area of Leeds elected a BNP representative in favour of the usual three party choices plus a Green thrown in for good measure.
For those not familiar with British Politics, the BNP don't really have a manefesto for the country in the same way that most political party's do, their aim is to, (and I quote while seething), "represent the British white working class voters who have been marginalised by the major parties and their political correct pandering to non-white minorities".
I have carefully quoted that from Nick Griffin their leader who is well known to the British court system for his racist and inciting views, the best thing that can be said for the BNP is that they show just how democratic this country can be when we tolorate fekkwits like them to actually be allowed to share a ballot paper with genuine political parties and people who actually want to serve their electorate.
The suprising thing about the local elections is that the party of fuckwits can find enough similar minded fuckwits to vote for them, if we had a BNP representative in our ward ( which we never will as they prey on low income white working class areas) then I would want to know how he was going to represent me on our local council, how he was going to vote on the police budget for instance when the police spend so much time hounding him and his racist chums at their clandestine meetings, how he was going to vote on local issues such as when do our dustbins get emptied and what would he do if we had a black binman, and at what point would he press our local council to repatriate tens of thousands of British Asians and what the fuck has that got to do with local council affairs anyway ?
Thankfully when it comes to national elections the BNP do nothing, they have never had a Member of Parliament in their party and with proper publicity they never will.
********************************************************************************
Tomorrow we take a quick trip to the north east on hospital visiting duty, and we're also going to look at a caravan.
I never thought I'd ever write that last bit.
I'm saying nothing for the time being but a small piece of Northumberland may yet be ours when we purchase the tin box and its bedding plant heaven location.
Thursday, May 04, 2006
A couple of random thinks...
Wow, a week since I posted something, its been a busy week, lots of driving up and down and across the motorway network as we're working almost exclusively for a large supermarket company at the moment, they've expanded dramatically in the last two years and our work takes us all over the country now.
Random thought number one - today I learned why most company personnel offices are staffed by women, I was working in the personnel office of one of their large distribution warehouses today when one of the women picked up an employment application form from a man from Gambia who had the amusing name of Titibob,a s she read out his application she came to a question that read "What qualities will you bring to the job" to which I'd have replied "Its a warehouse picking job on minimum wage, what do you fucking think, I'll be good at picking things off shelves" but Mr Titibob had clearly given the question much intensive thought, his answer was "I will always try to be my best".
The four women in the personnel office all looked at each other and spontaneously sighed "awwww. bless him" in a mother-hen sort of way, and I couldn't help but think that if the office was staffed by four men the comments would have been more like "bloody silly bugger" and his application would have been binned, as it is I think Mr Titibob will be getting a job offer if only for the amusement factor that his name seemed to generate to the ladies in personnel.
*********************************************************************
Suzannes mum has spent the last seven days in intensive care receiving the very best of treatment that money could buy anywhere in the world, all free of charge courtesy of the National Health Service.
With most organs having failed in her body last week following two heart attacks she has had a myriad of treatments and is very slowly starting to respond in small ways whilst still being reliant on computers to sustain her, the patience and professionalism of the nursing and doctoring staff in the one-on-one ward could not have been surpased if we were the Bruneii Royal Family, and it was exactly the same when my own dad spent his last seven days in hospital before he died eight years ago - when you need the NHS under emergency circumstances there is simply nothing that even comes close to providing the same excellence of service - its why the like of BUPA don't even try and compete with them.
In fact it annoys the fuck out of me everytime I receive phone calls at work from private health insurance salespeople wanting to sell me an expensive policy that would bring me no more benefits than the NHS has to offer, except that they try and wrap it up slightly differently or frighten you into thinking you won't get the same cover on the NHS.
I usually put the phone down on such salespeople without a single comment but occasionally if I'm arsey enough I'll ask them whether they provide an emergency response service just in case I have a heart attack this afternoon, or whether they prefer to cherry pick only healthy wealthy people who fall for their scaremongering, its usually them that puts the phone down when cornered in that fashion - the bastards.
*************************************************************************
And I had a real Homer Simpson "Doh !!!" moment last Tuesday when Suzanne came home from the northeast after sitting in the intensive care unit for five days with her mother by asking her if she'd enjoyed her little break.
Doh !!!
Fuckwit brain time !!!
I defen myself here by stating that she doesn't often see her two brothers who live in London and who had flown up to spend the weekend in Newcastle, nor has she seen her other brother and sister who live in Newcastle since christmas and when not visiting the hospital they have been able to spend two or three days together for the first time in many years - what I should have said was "The situation with your mother aside, did you enjoy spending time with your family".
But I didn't , I fucked up.
We spent a very silent night back together again :(
Random thought number one - today I learned why most company personnel offices are staffed by women, I was working in the personnel office of one of their large distribution warehouses today when one of the women picked up an employment application form from a man from Gambia who had the amusing name of Titibob,a s she read out his application she came to a question that read "What qualities will you bring to the job" to which I'd have replied "Its a warehouse picking job on minimum wage, what do you fucking think, I'll be good at picking things off shelves" but Mr Titibob had clearly given the question much intensive thought, his answer was "I will always try to be my best".
The four women in the personnel office all looked at each other and spontaneously sighed "awwww. bless him" in a mother-hen sort of way, and I couldn't help but think that if the office was staffed by four men the comments would have been more like "bloody silly bugger" and his application would have been binned, as it is I think Mr Titibob will be getting a job offer if only for the amusement factor that his name seemed to generate to the ladies in personnel.
*********************************************************************
Suzannes mum has spent the last seven days in intensive care receiving the very best of treatment that money could buy anywhere in the world, all free of charge courtesy of the National Health Service.
With most organs having failed in her body last week following two heart attacks she has had a myriad of treatments and is very slowly starting to respond in small ways whilst still being reliant on computers to sustain her, the patience and professionalism of the nursing and doctoring staff in the one-on-one ward could not have been surpased if we were the Bruneii Royal Family, and it was exactly the same when my own dad spent his last seven days in hospital before he died eight years ago - when you need the NHS under emergency circumstances there is simply nothing that even comes close to providing the same excellence of service - its why the like of BUPA don't even try and compete with them.
In fact it annoys the fuck out of me everytime I receive phone calls at work from private health insurance salespeople wanting to sell me an expensive policy that would bring me no more benefits than the NHS has to offer, except that they try and wrap it up slightly differently or frighten you into thinking you won't get the same cover on the NHS.
I usually put the phone down on such salespeople without a single comment but occasionally if I'm arsey enough I'll ask them whether they provide an emergency response service just in case I have a heart attack this afternoon, or whether they prefer to cherry pick only healthy wealthy people who fall for their scaremongering, its usually them that puts the phone down when cornered in that fashion - the bastards.
*************************************************************************
And I had a real Homer Simpson "Doh !!!" moment last Tuesday when Suzanne came home from the northeast after sitting in the intensive care unit for five days with her mother by asking her if she'd enjoyed her little break.
Doh !!!
Fuckwit brain time !!!
I defen myself here by stating that she doesn't often see her two brothers who live in London and who had flown up to spend the weekend in Newcastle, nor has she seen her other brother and sister who live in Newcastle since christmas and when not visiting the hospital they have been able to spend two or three days together for the first time in many years - what I should have said was "The situation with your mother aside, did you enjoy spending time with your family".
But I didn't , I fucked up.
We spent a very silent night back together again :(
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