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Showing posts from September, 2010

What goes around reverses around.

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Assuming anyone it actually reading the drivel, then you'll know that I eventually managed to take out some money from my current bank account. This was for my daughter's new car that was to replace the old Peugeot 106 that some random woman decided to reverse into last month. Usual long story: Her fault, take in for repair. "£1300", "How much?" , please don't write it off. Oh you have. Here's £900. I take that - I only paid £600 for it two years ago. So after much trolling around UCD's 1 I find a nice Corsa on eBay - with aircon, power steering and the like. We collect from the depths of Essex and it's all fine. On the way home the engine management light comes on and the aircon stops working. I pull the codes the next day and it's the " you have a problem between the air intake and the tail pipe (code P0170) " which turns out to the MAF unit - new on eBay for £30, job done. The aircon, err, yeah. One secondhand compressor an

The Generation Game

It was Mom's 95th birthday last week and we went up to visit. We took our usual places in the knackered armchairs - y'know, the ones that when you sit in them the arms neatly tuck themselves under your armpit and they're impossible to get out of without the aid of an engine hoist. And, when you do finally manage to stand up you have to reset the positions of the fabric throws that were put there in 1940 1 to "save the upholstery". My sister had previously warned me that they'd finally given up the ghost but Mom had refused to let her swap them with the good pair that were now languishing in the garage. We put them there after we'd turned the front room into Mom's downstairs bedroom. "You see if she'll let you swap them, you're her favourite..." Thanks. To digress a little. Every since I've been little, I'd always noticed that the chairs in the front room never matched the sofa and the chairs in the back room were only ever a

Halley-Bloody-Looya.

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After 11 months and two previous failed attempts my youngest son finally passed his driving test today. I'm not sure who was more nervous, me him or the DSA Examiner. I did find it rather strange that he (the examiner) came straight into the Test Centre afterwards and disappeared quickly behind his locked door without pausing to say "yes he's passed" or something equally helpful. Maybe it was something to do with me earlier ringing the door bell furiously 18 minutes after the test was due to start at 12:30 and then berating him about time-keeping. To be fair he did keep his cool and mention that the test wasn't due until 12:48 and that they weren't "on strike" as I'd politely suggested. I remember when I took my test. My Dad said it was the longest 45 minutes he'd ever spent. I now know what he meant. My son ceremoniously tore up the "L"-Plates. It took me ages to get the sticky tape off the rear window...

How to take money out of a bank.

When my Dad was alive: "Hello" "Hello Sir, I recognise you because you've banked with us for 30 years. How can I help?" "I'd like £1,300 please" "Certainly. There you are. Good day." "Thank you, good day" Today: Go onto www.satander.co.uk, click "Contact Us", spend 10 minutes scanning the page and eventually find " To talk about >Bank Accounts ", click that. Eventually find " Managing your account ". Dials number. "This is Satander. Please press '1' for Bank Account. Press '2' for Credit Card. Press '3' for other bollox. Press '4'....! 1 "...please enter your 16 digit card number and then your Telephone Banking Number..." "Thank you. Press '1' if you want to hear your balance. Press '2' to transfer money. Press '3'...." I don't want any of those, so I pressed '0' a lot of times. "Sorry, we didn'

Padlocks? Possibly misheard.

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After all the panic about my son's missing-and-now-found passport had subsided, we were left with the fact that we had two padlocked, but openable, suitcases. Not a problem during the week, but at some point we would have to zip them properly for the journey home. I went to reception (again). "Hola, have you got a set of...". I stopped at that point thinking that maybe "bolt-croppers" wouldn't translate too well into Spanish. "Um, I need to cut some padlocks off a suitcase" and proceeded to make a gesture that looked like I was beating a small child in both ears at the same time. The woman behind the desk looked at me blankly for a while and then the light dawned. "Come back at 4 o'clock, the man weel be ere weeth 'is chopper" "Hokay, thank you" Eventually at about half-four a young bloke turned up at the apartment sporting a manic grin and holding a *huge* DeWalt cordless angle grinder. It was brand new and he was obvio

All's Well That Ends Well

After remembering something I read on the Internet about how to break into a suitcase we all managed to get a few hours sleep before my son's phone went off with a "you have a voicemail" alert. "...my area fund jackeet wit sport ...ssss...'ere...airaporta you collect cold air...ssss..." click. "WTF?" "Sounds like they've found your jacket & passport mate." "Can I drive?" "If you must". We got to a *very* hot and crowded Palma airport at about midday having spent a while getting "satnav lost" again in the very same town from a few hours earlier. Nowhere to park near the terminal, we ultimately parked back in the rental bays on the other side of the terminal building. We had no idea where to go. So we guessed and headed for the information desk in Arrivals where my son played the message to the man. "That sounds like Maria. She ees on the Goldcar desk wheech is just there.&qu

You can probably guess where this ends.

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Before we came away on holiday, my eldest son confided in us that he was going to "do it properly" and propose to his pregnant girlfriend whilst we were all away on holiday. He went shopping with my daughter (for her advice and approval) and he bought a lovely engagement ring which he showed to my wife and I just before we got into the cars to drive to the airport. "I'm not going to let this out of sight", he said, "I'm going to keep in on me at all times." "That's really lovely, Just you be careful with it.", my wife remarked... and he put it in his buttoned 1 jacket pocket along with the keys to the padlocks to his & girlfriend-soon-to-be-fiance's suitcases. We arrived at the apartments at 5:00am and we all had to show our passports to the receptionist. (This presumably is because they think Immigration Control at Palma Airport isn't good enough). "Can I have my jacket please, doll?" "Um,