Author: pete

Categories
Displeasure Guidance Meander

How to obtain a Bankers Draft

1. Walk into the bank at 9:02 in the morning. Walk straight up to the enquiries desk, and tell the lad behind it (who, incidentally, is young enough to be your son) that you want to arrange a bankers draft to buy a house.
2. He will ask for ID. You give him your bank card and driving license. He disappears into the locked-down area, calling back over his shoulder “It will take about 15 minutes.”
3. Loiter.
4. A couple of minutes later, he will reappear with a form. Eventually you will manage to wrap your head round it, and fill it in. He disappears with the form again.
5. Loiter.
6. Twenty minutes later, he will reappear and give you back your ID. He will tell you that the system is just checking your signature, and it will take a couple of minutes. He disappears.
7. Loiter. Wish you had brought a book.
8. Twenty minutes later, he reappears with a slim brown envelope. He asks you to check it.
9. You check the amount carefully.
10. You are distinctly underwhelmed by this thing. It’s basically just a cheque without your signature on it. It appears that you are going to have to deliver this thing yourself. You ask, and lad confirms.
11. 9:45 – Anticlimax.

Categories
Meander

Or maybe the gate ran into the car?

The first thing that I saw this morning, upon leaving the house, was a small white French hatchback embedded in a gate, with considerable damage to the front bumper, and two guys tugging furiously to try and free it.

The arse end of the car was poking into the street, so naturally traffic flow was somewhat disrupted. While I idled in this queue, I pondered the possible steps that could have led up to this collision, as I often do. Taking into account the angle at which the car was embedded in this gate, and the nature of the road on which the gate dwells, I could only conclude that the driver had hurtled out of a side road at inappropriate speed and… well… kept going.

Presence or absence of skidmarks on the road (now now, don’t snigger at the word skidmarks) would have given more information: did the driver attempt to turn, but lose front-wheel grip? Did the driver attempt to turn, discover his route blocked, and straighten out, after deciding that a collision with a gate was preferable to a head-on with another vehicle? Did the driver faint at the wheel?

By the time I’d done my pondering, the number of guys tugging on the hatchback had swelled to half a dozen, including a couple of well-built road workers in high-visibility gilets ((Hmmm, that was strangely satisfying. Gilet. Gilet. Gilet.)), so I considered that my skills as a computer programmer were probably surplus to requirements, and I drove on. Somehow, I doubt that the cause of the incident was a software error.

Categories
Gardening

Antagonists

If you were in any doubt that I have been neglecting my garden over the last 9 weeks, you’d only need to take one look at it to get the kind of unambiguous evidence that would make Schrödinger himself say “Oh, well that answers that then.”

Upon closer inspection, you’d notice that the ants are taking over the lawn, and I just don’t have the time to do anything about it. Little mounds of earth here and there collapse under a weighty toecap, spraying little scampery chappies hither, thither and ivirywhither.

“Enjoy it, you little scallywags,” I condescend, “because in six weeks you’re going to have a new nemesis to deal with, and he almost certainly won’t be as busy as I am.”

The ants are secretly afraid, but they attempt to cover it up with displays of anty bravado. They waggle their tongues and shake loosely clenched fists at me. Some don’t know when to stop, and just go *too far*. I call the police, and the ants get new ASBOs. Then a huge flying hippo lands on the car, and we all eat jelly.

All of this really happened.

Categories
Peril Photos

Threatening

Threatening

There’s a storm coming.

Categories
About Me

While we’re on the subject of confessions…

…oh, we’re not? Never mind.

You probably aren’t aware that I was President of a Student Union society at University. The reason why you aren’t aware of this is that I don’t talk about it very much, for very good reason.

I joined this society at the start of my first year. Initially it was quite busy, but over the course of the year the number of active members dwindled to a level that wasn’t unhealthily pathetic, but could be described as “intimate”.

The majority of these members were final-year students. The *vast* majority. Oh, okay, all but three of them were final-year students. This is how I became President – because I was too stupid to realise that the most sensible course of action would be to run, very quickly, in the other direction, and the other two evidently weren’t quite as stupid as me.

Continue reading “While we’re on the subject of confessions…”
Categories
Food Meander

Sleight Of Hand

It’s one of those days where I take my lunch break at home. There is one doughnut remaining, in a brown paper bag.

*”Take this back to work with you,”* says the Karen.

*”Why, how generous of you,”* I reply.

She takes the brown paper bag through to the other room and leaves it on my manbag, so that I don’t forget to take it back to work with me.

A short while later, I am at work. I grope the brown paper bag and am aware of the presence of not one but two ovular objects in it. I instinctively check them for lumps (and so should you).

I peer into the bag. Beside my grinning, portly doughnut lies a smarmy, self-satisfied piece of fruit.

A piece of fruit! How did that get in there?

Why, that sneaky girl.

Categories
Parenting

I’d pun on the word ‘rock’ but life is too short

I want to write about our new rocking chair, and my exciting excursion into North London to collect it, but my sentences are disappointing me. Everything I write seems cumbersome and clumsy, and I can’t tell whether this is due to a temporary inability to write, or a temporary inability to make sense of it when I read it back to myself.

The rocking chair itself is slightly less than awesome – it has a chunky lever to switch between “rock” mode and “rock steady” mode, but the lever has a tendency to crunch back into “rock steady” mode of its own accord. A temporary fix has been implemented using twine. The chair also squeaks a bit when rocking to and fro, but I don’t think twine would be much help for that.

Despite these failings, our new rocking chair provides good support for a nursing mother, which will hopefully banish her steadily-worsening backache back to whence from came it.

Categories
Displeasure

Argh Moving

Moving house isn’t so bad, really. However, what **is** laborious is sending your new address to your bank, the [DVLA][], your [ISP][], gas provider, electricity provider, the [SLC][], the [AA][], [NSI][], the council, and [mobile phone provider][], your car insurance company, and some others which I am sure that I have forgotten.

[dvla]: http://www.dvla.gov.uk/
[isp]: http://www.pipex.net/
[slc]: http://www.slc.co.uk/
[aa]: http://www.theaa.com/
[nsi]: http://www.nsandi.com
[mobile phone provider]: http://www.vodafone.co.uk/

Oh, and updating your will.

Categories
Food Parenting Photos

The effect of tiredness

Lack of sleep is having a noticeable effect upon [Karen][]. Allow me to illustrate using an example.

[karen]: http://uborka.nu/rise/

Today, I came home from work at lunchtime, as usual, to prepare a small meal, hang out the laundry, usual kind of stuff. The fridge was full of coleslaw, potato salad, and other similar items, so I made up a couple of platefuls and brought them back through to the sitting room, where Karen was sat, giving Bernard his milky nourishment.

I set down the plate in front of Karen and the change that took place in her face was remarkable. At first, her eyeballs glistened slightly. Then I noticed her chin start to quiver. Her skin reddened, and pretty soon there were tears streaming down her cheeks and wails were emanating from her mouth.

What’s up, sweetheart?

*(sob) There’s too much of it! (sob)*

This was the first time that I’d known someone cry because I’d given them too much lunch. As I wrapped my arms round Karen to comfort her, I was simultaneously crying along with her and laughing at this completely unforeseen situation.

She doesn’t know that I’m posting this. I hope that one day she’ll be able to look back on this and laugh.

In other news, my venus flytrap is currently digesting flies in *six separate traps!* This is a record, and I’m pleased that he’s getting the nutrition that he needs. I couldn’t fit all six traps in one photo, so I’ve taken two.

Snappy Meal (1 of 2) Snappy Meal (2 of 2)

Categories
Parenting

Four weeks old

Yesterday I found myself casting my mind back to the first nappy change that I performed alone, and I pondered upon how much has changed since then.

In the first few days, I handled Bernard with such a degree of cautiousness that it must have been frustrating for him. That first nappy change was such an exciting experience, requiring focus and concentration. Nowadays, they are over in the blink of an eye. I make sure that all the necessary components are in the right place, and then in a flurry of soiled nappy, wipes, vaseline and fresh nappy (and about the same amount of time as it takes to type those words) it is all over.

We’ve used approximately 200 disposable nappies in these four weeks, and this has (by my estimations) been enough to fill 6 additional black bin bags, most of which are by now in a landfill near you. But the transition to washable nappies has begun, and hopefully we will now be able to return to only producing one black bin bag full of refuse per fortnight.

Prior to this transition, I used to marvel at how soft and fluffy the brand-new washable nappies were. I’d bury my face in them and walk around with them on my head, they were so addictively soft and fluffy. Seriously. But I can’t imagine myself doing that any more. Though they will still be as soft and fluffy when fresh from the washing machine, I know where they have been.

Bernard’s vocabulary has improved, to incorporate gurgles, hums, squeaks and the occasional “ah” noise (which is probably accidental, on his part). This is fantastic. When he screamed, and I screamed back at him, this used to drive Karen up the wall (wonder why). The new system is far more pleasant for all involved.

One of the most significant improvements is that we are learning more about his preferences. He likes certain levels of light, certain levels of noise, certain types of motion, certain temperatures, certain ways of being held. Knowing exactly what values to assign to these parameters makes the world of difference. For example, if we are in the sitting room with the curtains closed and he is whining, I know that there is a 90% chance that if I carry him into the kitchen (where it is brighter) he’ll calm down. If I am sat down with him on my knee and he is whining, I know that if I stand up with him, there is a good chance that this will calm him down (he just seems to like this position more). By knowing what he likes and dislikes, we can get him a little bit more comfortable, even if that involves a completely unnecessary drive up the road and back.

On another note, and I’m not sure whether my bias is overwhelming here, but I feel like this really is an abso-fucking-lutely gorgeous baby.

Bernard pulling a simply adorable face

Incidentally, I did actually write a post a week ago, but never managed to finish it. The bit that I *did* write said this:

> I can’t believe that I’ve been back at work nearly a week and a half already, and the house move is bounding over the horizon towards us like a large, overenthusiastic dog that’s going to cover you in loving but slobbery kisses sometime in a month or so.

> Returning to work feels like the aforementioned dog is actually a wolf, for now, and has just taken a huge bite out of your leg that actually has also encompassed the other leg, one arm, and 80% of your torso. The bit of your body that is left struggles to acclimatise to the new conditions, and generally just flaps around on the ground, oozing blood and gore, spurting bad similes that lead to somewhere undesirable, and thinking to itself “I can’t wait until I get my identity back.”