Whatever and ever, amen
Wish I had time to write a proper blog post, but I have about a month's worth of work to procrastinate about over the next two days. Instead, have a link to the
Christmas-iest song ever written.
Five parts ELO, four parts Paul McCartney, one part Val Doonican.
Happy Christmas everybody.
Something's gone wrong again
Why is it that the shit stuff always seems to happen in December?
After a very pleasant evening out on Saturday, we arrived home to a note from our downstairs neighbours to say that they had discovered water dripping through a light fitting outside their bathroom. One expensive visit from a plumber later, we discovered that the bathtub that was put into our flat about three years ago has been an accident waiting to happen - incorrectly plumbed in, and a mess in general.
Job one on the list is to track down the perpetrators of the crime and take them down to Chinatown. Never piss off a person who is good at admin, like me. I have already planned out a systematic and comprehensive business-ruining drubbing that involves two local councils and Trading Standards.
Job two, infinitely less fun than part one, is to find a competent plumbing firm that would be able to fix the problems for us. This will take several hundred pounds, I estimate - that's not to mention the cosmetic stuff that will need doing as a result of the works, and the sheer bloody inconvenience of having no bath or shower available to us during the coldest week of the year thus far.
One word:
bastards.
Labels: plumbing hell
Same as it ever was
I had a post all written up and ready to go about the family argument that broke out last week, but I figure that all you need to do is go back about three years or so here and read the posts relating to the event known as
Tablegate. There isn't much point in posting about round two here, because it's almost identical.
Put it this way, there's not much chance of a game of football in no man's land this Christmas.
The season has started early with my work party last night. I'm tired and a little queasy today, but to be honest, that's how I feel most days. The days of me going out on a works do and ending up blotto are long gone. I pace myself carefully, watch what I say and leave before I disgrace myself. Not a bad philosophy to have, and one I wish I had employed earlier in my life.
Down through the years my relationship with The Booze has changed. It's gone from being my beloved partner in crime to an acquaintance that I'm ambivalent about seeing, because I have nothing left in common with it.
A pal once accused me of being a control freak for not getting drunk. I suppose that's a factor. But the over-riding thing that stops me from overdoing it is that I'll do
anything to avoid vomiting.
Yes! Yet another
emetophobe!
Labels: arguments, booze, vomiting
