10 September 2017
As some of you may already know my last post was delayed due to a visit to A&E.
I was slightly embarrassed by all the concern as the visit was not for me. It was the Domestic Manager that needed attention. They did something to make her better, a procedure she described as “Really painful”. As painful as standing on an upturned plug in bare feet? I doubt it.
We had to wait about an hour at the hospital. This gave us plenty of time to observe the other patients and they were certainly a rum crowd. I would estimate 30% were exactly the same as us. Folk in need of occasional help and for whom the A&E department was a foreign place.
The rest were frequent flyers and – not to put too fine a point on it – scumbags. Obese, loud, rude, impatient, selfish human vermin clad in fake sports leisure wear (Addidaz, Reboc), they sat and fiddled with their phones while their feral spawn went mental.
They were only there because they fancied a trip out. Try as I might, I was unable to identify which one was in need of medical attention. I suspected none.
Now we know all is well I think a few related issues need to be raised. The unexpected 70 mile round trip into Aberdeen used more than smidgen of diesel, plus I missed the highlights of the Italian Grand Prix which is far more important than a small bout of serious infection.
When I mentioned all this to my friend Kimberley in Edinburgh she proposed I charge the Domestic Manager for my time. I reminded her it should be time and a half as it was a Sunday. Think I will make up a little invoice. I’ll let you know how well it is received.
The week after my last post was of little consequence as I was riddled with disease. Some said it was ‘just a cold’ but I knew it was much more serious. Men always do.
The one notable occurrence was a meeting I attended with other worthies at the fun factory. The purpose was to constructively progress a large and important project. It was going to be no fun for me with snot on draught, but the agenda looks pretty sensible and lunch was provided, I thought I’d make the effort to turn up
Disappointingly and like so many meetings, it turned out to be two hours of being shouted at by a loud, aggressive extreamly rude person who spoke only of problems and offered no solutions.
The cacophony showed no sign of abating as we entered the second hour and I began to wonder if the speaker had mistakenly exceeded the recommended dose for a prescription medication.
The middle week was a little more exciting as it meant one day in Glasgow and two days in Edinburgh. The disease was subsiding and it was an opportunity to soak up what remained of the festivals.
I won’t mention anything about the work undertaken as some people at the factory are so very sensitive, but I will say that over the three days a team of two did the work of five. I doubt very much their efforts will be recognised. Sadly.
As they had to work late into the evening it meant I had to go to the best all you can eat buffet Edinburgh has to offer on my own. Twice.
The first night they sat me next to two large young ladies who were really enjoying the gluttony. I heard one of them say “So I’ll just get a bit fatter. So what?” Couldn’t have put it better myself. So what indeed.
The second night I was sat next to three generations of the Greedie family. They spent the entire visit eating as if it were their last mean on earth while at the same time complaining loudly to each other about how fat they were.
My gast was well and truly flabbered when I heard one of them say “There should be a law to stop companies opening places like this” as they mashed large chunks of pizza into their already overflowing mouth.
Jesus wept! No one made you walk in and visit the chicken and chips counter two dozen times. I resisted the impulse to state the bleeding obvious, but if I had and it had upset them, what could they have done? I could have outrun them with little more than a gentle stroll.
On my return home there was more excitement as the Domestic Manager told me about her encounter with Mr Chav our neighbour. It is petty but it matters. If you live in a country other than the UK this is an excellent example of how we do things here.
We have a carpark for our row of seven houses and each house is entitled to two spaces. They are not marked. It is a free for all and until Mr Chav moved in it worked pretty well.
Mr Chav caused a stir when he first moved in. His first action was to erect a small forest of three foot high plastic trees that lit up at night at the front of his house. A little odd as all our houses face the main road, but no one said anything. Having no taste is hardly a crime.
He has a BMW with what I believe are illegal number plates and every go faster option available. He clearly loves it and when he cleans it throws all his rubbish into the other spaces. The bastard. He also parks in the middle of two spaces because ‘They are his and he is entitled’, but not the ones full of his rubbish, obviously.
Trouble is when other members of the Chav clan come to visit they park in our spaces. This means the last people to arrive home have to park out on the road. This is not great at this time of year when tractors pulling trailers piled high with bales have to negotiate the narrow highway at the front.
While I was away the DM arrived home to find a visiting chav-mobile in one of our (as in everyone else’s) spaces. You can tell because all the family have matching private number plates. She decided enough was enough and knocked at the door to complain, however no-one came to the door. Undeterred she blocked them in and left a note on the offending windscreen to call at our house.
A few hours later Mr Chav came to our door and the Domestic Manager answered. He was most argumentative and essentially said he can do what ever he likes. This was an unwise tactic as the DM is a highly skilled arguer. She always counters with a well-constructed defence built on common sense, reasonableness and logic.
I asked Alice if she overheard any of the verbal exchange.
“Yes” she said. “He complained a lot and Mum just kept pointing out how he was wrong. After a few minutes all the guy kept saying was ‘You’re not listening to me!’”
This made me laugh. The Domestic Manager hasn’t listened to me in nearly 20 years so he had no chance.
Last Monday was Alice’s 14th Birthday. My parents came to visit the day before and bought a very expensive chocolate Birthday cake that would have fed about 10 people.
Then on the Monday Alice had friends round for tea. Unfortunately I had other things to do otherwise I would have loved to have eaten with a gang of loud, argumentative piss-taking teenage girls while Alice did her best to show off.
The week went downhill on Wednesday when Alice went off to the local play park and promptly lost the house key. There were arguments and recrimination as we re-traced her steps. It was raining, darkness was falling and she kept changing her story. It was not a fun night.
By Thursday she was able to provide details of her movements with some degree of consistency, so that evening I spent an hour in the rain raking through an acre or so of wood chippings. With no sign of the key.
I am not prepared to invest in new locks just yet. This is the most honest, crime-free place I have ever lived so if found I am sure it will be returned.
Even so and just to be on the safe side, just before I go to bed I connect the door handle to the mains. Anyone trying to gain entry will receive 240 volts through their thieving key holding hand. You may think this a bit too much, but it is only 240 volts because I lack the equipment to step it up to 1,000. It is what they call ‘a deterrent’.
To finish a joke from Frankie Boyle, a Scottish comedian who treads the fine line between comic genius and deeply offensive with insufficient care.
“Oscar Pistorius – sounds like something Harry Potter would say to make someone’s legs fall off”
Late news – you may remember a post from earlier in the year concerned with the fairytale marriage of Sarah and Stew.
Last week their dog was sick so Sarah had three days off.
This week Stew was sick so she went back to work. In London.
Marriage. It changes people.
Murrays Musings 