Category: Uncategorised

Royal Mail in “are ****” (again) shocker

OK, on the 23rd, someone attempted to deliver a package. Now, several points. The little card says they tried to do this at 10:30. This is ****, as Sarah was in then. Secondly, they’ve ticket the box that says “too big for your letterbox”. This is also ****, as I know what I’m waiting for. It’ll be in three small Jiffy bags, each of which will fit easily through the door.

What we’re dealing with here is a postperson who can’t tell the time and hasn’t figured out how those awkward rubber bands that hold things together work.

So I call the number on the card to arrange redelivery as Sarah’s going to be in one day this week. It rings… and I get the standard BT message that “your call cannot be taken at this time”. Bugger. So I ring back, and it’s engaged.

A-ha! Someone’s on the phone! So I keep hitting redial until it rings again. And rings. And rings. And BT message.

So I’ve left a voicemail. It’s currently 8:30am and the sorting office is open until midday (hence why I can’t collect the packages from them but we’ve been through this ages ago if you go digging through the archives). What are the odds I’ll actually get a call back before they shut? And, more to the point, even if they do who reckons they’ll actually redeliver on the day I ask them to? Because, funnily enough, I have no ******* faith in them at all.

I’ve also just noticed the little tagline on the note from them: “with us it’s personal^TM“. Well, that half-sounds rather Mafia-esque and scary. And half-sounds like a laughable lie given I’m getting a generic BT answering service…

It must be great running a monopoly. You can be as utterly *****-awful as you want with no worries or repurcussions.

Update: I kept trying to ring them and finally got through at 11:53. Seven minutes before they close for the day. I’ve asked to have the package redelivered on Thursday. I fully expect to have a little card through the door tomorrow saying they couldn’t deliver it.

Silly girl

Just swapped a few texts with Louise. She’s heading to London for a couple of days (first class on the train, natch) and some guy was chatting her up. Or in her words, “I’m trying to read my book and this guy won’t stop talking to me”. So he wasn’t exactly off to a flying start.

Then it was, “Now the sob story about his breakup with his girlfriend. Which means he doesn’t like blondes, prefers brunette. Surprise!”

It got better, “I told him I’m a nurse. Now he’s going on about all his little sports injuries. He says he has a big scar on his lower back and he’ll show me it if I go into the toilet with him!”

Classy.

As they neared London, “He’s gearing up to ask me out. I can tell.”

Finally, “Bingo – he’s asked if I want to have dinner at his posh hotel tonight. I told him I didn’t think my boyfriend would be too happy. He looks crushed! Aw, bless!” Two hours of his time wasted (well, he wouldn’t shut up despite her hints) only to get blown out of the water. And yet she’s still sympathetic about it. You wonder why she’s such a good nurse?

The thing is, this makes no fewer than four people who’ve asked her out in the last three weeks. The others were a patient’s relative and two new doctors. Plus all the retards groping her in a nightclub recently.

And yet… she chose me.

Silly moo. Joke’s on her, then!

Catchup

OK, y’all. Now I’ve finished my coursework (woo) and have a little bit more spare time, here’s a bit of a catch up on what’s going on in my life.

I’m still incredibly busy. I have a new housemate (Sarah) who I’ve known a couple of years. She used to share with a couple who started to split up and things got messy so she moved out. The place she got of her own didn’t work out, so she needed somewhere in the interim and knew I had a spare room so… She’s a really nice lass, but not as “blonde” as Kim so I doubt there’ll be as many funny stories to tell!

She brought a lickle kitten called Ed with her when she moved in. KK isn’t massively keen on this, but has learned to deal with it remarkably quickly. My only major issue is that Ed’s still doing the “litter tray first, ask to go out second” order of business and as a result my bathroom smells of stale cat piss. This is improving, but will take time.

The other major news, and main reason for lack of spare time recently, is that I’m seeing someone new (well, if 2 months still counts as “new”) and she lives in Newcastle. As a result, I’ve been up and down there every weekend, plus we went on holiday to Scotland a few weeks ago.

She’s called Louise, she’s a nurse (yes, she has the uniform; no, she won’t wear it “outside of work”) and she’s bloody wonderful, not that I’m biased in the slightest.

The down side to this is that as of October 9th, she’s going abroad for 18 months. So I am going to go from having no free time due to visiting her, to having no free time due to excessive masturbation. And from working spare time and extra hours to save up and go to New Zealand next year to visit her. Twice.

At least it gets me off my arse to go and have a holiday (or two) next year. This means I also get the chance to visit Belinda and Elaine, who live in Brisbane and who I’ve not seen in years. Unfortunately, I’ve already had the time off work confirmed (it had to go via the Board as I’m taking more than 10 days for obvious reasons) and one of my mates has arranged his wedding for the first weekend I’m away. I can’t change the dates without waiting 3 months for the next board meeting… Arse.

Shitty ******* medical staff

My little cousin (she’s just gone 4) has to have an operation next month to sure a bone problem in her ankle. My aunt noticed it quite some time ago, but every paediatrician, doctor and health worker she mentioned it to checked it out and said “na – nothing wrong with that”. Until recently when a new neighbour (a doctor herself) spotted it in passing and asked why they’d not had something done about it.

Now, this one little incident seems like a bit of bad fortune on the part of the umpteen useless ******** who were pointed towards the problem. I’d now like to bring into question the abilities (or lack thereof) of the inept, useless bunch of utter ***** who didn’t spot another problem she had when she wasn’t even a year old. Her hip wasn’t developed properly so she had no control over one of her legs. Again, my aunt noticed this – Louise (same name as my g/f) would kick one leg while she was having her nappy changed, but the other would just lie there.

Again, this was pointed out to the GP. Who waved it away. Then a paediatrician. Who fobbed it off. And another paediatrician. Who said it was nothing and that my aunt was just being silly. Until one of the nurses my aunt knew spotted it and had it sorted (result – child in bandagy thing for about 6 months, holding the joint together). And my aunt was asked why they hadn’t had this dealt with sooner as it would have been easier and less distressing for the little kiddy.

Needless to say, aunty went ballistic.

How the **** do these people have jobs? At best, they’re unobservant. At worst, they’re criminally negligent. Were it my kid, I’d have sued them for malpractise, though is this possible when they haven’t done anything – even though that’s the problem? While I confess that I’m going to feel worse as this is my little cousin I’m on about, but what about all the other kids who go to see them? Louise lucked out, partly due to my aunt’s persistence with other people and partly out of luck. What else have they missed, even when it’s staring them in the face? How the hell can these people be allowed to carry on working, especially with children?

Am I over the top here?

Now for the hard part

As of 3:03 this morning I have no more coursework to do. That’s when I submitted my last assignment.

OK, I resubmitted it at 10:00 after a work colleague recommended re-doing the conclusion, but it’s in and done. No more coursework. This is going to be weird.

The worst part now begins. Waiting several months for the mark to come back, and I have no idea when that will be. I just need 40% and i was lucky with my project to get that exact mark. Fingers crossed I’m as lucky this time round, too!

Off to Newcastle for the weekend to get very drunk indeed. Which won’t be hard tonight as I’ve had less than four hours’ sleep. Mind, having two fillings at the dentist’s ought to wake me up. Assuming I don’t just not off on that big, comfy seat.

As I type this it’s just gone midday (bye-bye coursework deadline), and I’m finishing at 2:00 to get to the dentist. I have two tasks on my “to do list” and both require input from other people. I will put money on the fact that I will get neither set of input before 1:30, therefore making it impossible to do the jobs I have to do before I leave.

Just a typical Friday.

Bizarre pricing

I was just checking the Royal Mail’s airmail prices page and noted a couple of weird things. First off, I thought it was meant to be cheaper to send printed papers than other items in the post. It seems this is the case… but only within Europe. Send to anywhere else in the world and paper costs more to send than the equivalent weight of blancmange or whatever. So I’m guessing you just lie about what’s inside.

Even more mind boggling is that it costs more to send a letter than the equivalent weight of printed material or a small packet. So if you’re writing a very large letter… put it in a box.

It gets worse… then better

Homelets Property Management Services
468, Thornton Rd, Girlington, Bradford, West Yorkshire BD8 9BS
Tel: 01274 484000

Please feel free to write to or ring this company regarding my neighbour as they won’t speak to me! I rang them this morning about last night’s incidents and explained what happened to the receptionist. She offered to put me through to Mr Zorin (I think was the name).

I got as far as:

Zorin: Can I help?
Me: Well, I hope you can as you’ve done nothing much so far.
*click*
Me: Hello? Hello?

Rang back again and straight through to him this time.

Zorin: Look, if you don’t think we’ve done enough to help you then put it in writing.
*click*

So I rang again.

Me: You seem…
*click*

For ****’s sake. Please. Write them letters. Tell them what happened last night. Say you know me, be polite but firm. Let them know that this is an issue. Before I kill the little **** next door and all his friends.

NEWSFLASH UPDATE

This occured just as I was about to post this. He came round. Him and his other half. And apologised. Looking genuinely contrite as well. Blow me down.

He even offered to mow my lawn for me to make up, and wash my door (so I assume that was what was pissed on). He’s apparently told the lads involved that they’re no longer welcome and he was upstairs being sick while it was all going on. Whatever.

So I’ve had to ring the home owner and get him to call the letting agent first thing so that they don’t act on the letter I sent them this afternoon…

I am mad

I’ve agreed with my other half to enter the Great North Run in 2007. I’m not sure if she came up with this idea before or after she heard that 4 people died on this year’s.

Should I be worried?

Magic couriers

The digital camera I bought for Louise (i.e. on her behalf – she’s insisted on coughing up for it) has arrived at last. Despatched on Tuesday on “next day” delivery. According to City Link’s web page it was “delivered successfully” at 10:50 yesterday. Despite the same page also saying it arrived at the depot this morning and was put on a van at 06:43. And being signed for here about 20 mins ago.

There must be a camera-shaped time/space wormhole somewhere.

After several weeks with nothing to report (oh, bliss)…

****-knocker next door got a dog a while ago. I gave it a couple of weeks to make sure it wasn’t just being looked after (I hate him, but I like dogs) then mentioned it to Dean, the guy who owns the house. I know Dean, and I know how house-proud he is… and I’d have been amazed if he’d have allowed it.

He didn’t.

It turns out it was her mum’s and they’d just dumped it on them while they went on holiday. Erm, yeah. Never heard of boarding kennels?

Anyway. A little blip and me just keeping an eye on Dean’s house as requested.

Tonight, I got home from work. The stereo was on full clip, but they were sat outside and the bass was low. As a result, it genuinely didn’t bother me that much. It was pleasant enough, so why not?

I popped into the kitchen, dropped some stuff off. All looked fine.

Back into the kitchen five minutes later and I spot the in the intervening time, my bird bath had been knocked over. Now, this thing’s ******* heavy. It didn’t blow over in the wind, a cat didn’t tip it by jumping on it and a dog didn’t brush against it (well, nothing short of a St Bernard). The fact that the basin was over in one direction while the stand was in another tells me that the former had been flipped off before the latter was shoved over.

As I was pondering this, a random chav wandered into my garden, lifted his shirt and started to fiddle with his flies. Then he saw me in the window, made an “I’ve been caught” face and ran back next door.

So I rang the neighbour’s parents. This time I got his dad. Despite his sarky comment about not being able to see the bird bath due to the grass being so long (cheeky ****** – it’s unkempt but not two ******* feet) I did get through to him when I mention someone was trying to piss in my garden.

A minute later I overheard fucknut’s half of the conversation as his dad rang him. Surprise, it was full of “I don’t know what he’s talking about” and “no – nobody’s been in his garden” and other utter bullshit.

Then the conversation started. The “if he comes outside I’ll batter him” stuff, followed by “you know what he’s like” and so forth. I also heard “he saw you piss in his garden” followed by “I didn’t piss there – I pissed there“. I couldn’t see where, though, as I was earwigging and ont being blatant.

Surprise, the person who came and put my birdbath together was a very slight female, not one of the blokes who was there. They’re all the ******* same these chav *****. Won’t life a ******* finger.

Quarter of an hour later and I got a knock at the door. It was the kid’s dad. Frankly, I’d not **** with him. Pleasant enough, don’t get me wrong, but if he was my dad I’d not cross him. He was a lot more forthcoming in person, but we didn’t get to deal with “Robert” as he’d “gone to bed”, leaving two of his mates and their baby outside.

The lass was worried that our talking might wake her sick baby up – funny how the stupidly loud stereo earlier wasn’t a concern. I’d also say that judging by the colour of her teeth she should have stopped smoking 40 a day during pregnancy if she was bothered about having a sick kid.

The chav lad who was sat there said they’d seen nothing, and I’m pretty certain it wasn’t him who was going to piss in my garden. He could have been telling the truth as there was definitely someone else around earlier and I’m fairly certain it wasn’t him.

I did notice a wet patch by my door on the way in. I may investigate later as I don’t normally get a puddle there…

Now. I’ve informed Dean, but do I bother with the letting agency again? Because, frankly, they’ve done **** all when I’ve complained to them before.

Anyway. I’m going to get on with my coursework now that’s off my chest.

Honest.

You’ll also have to wait till tomorrow for the dead funny stuff I wrote at work. Don’t blame me – it’s that ***** next door’s fault.