Wobbles

My previous post has gone into hibernation for a while. I got a lot of "You can't say that!" and "What's got into you?" "It's not like you" sorta stuff on and off line. And I mean A Hellava Lot. In a nutshell, I should be more, ahum, 'understanding'. Hookay..... Just this once...


Actually, it is like me. Given the right circumstances. I spend a lot of my time, day to day, being told what to do, when to do it, and how to do it by people who think they are 'caring'.  Otherwise I'm invisible. It's a bit of a shock when Clark Kent turns into 'SuperGob'. I make no apologies. However, I will attempt to be more measured in my expression of my opinions (rolls eyes). Warning though. The Wheelie is not dead yet..

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Went for a wobble to the local 24 hour Asda with The Bear for the first time ever late tonight. Felt closed in, needed to get out. Took us absolutely bloomin' ages.  Takes her half an hour alone, bumping into mates not withstanding.


It was creepy. All that space. Lots of  staff beavering away, and lots of bargains tucked away, I noticed, for unusual stuff for our area, like pitted olives and jarred garlic cloves or sun-dried tomatoes tucked away amongst the horribly expensive. Interesting sales technique.


I was gobsmacked by the space above my head. It seemed to go on for miles. I mean, why? Those odd self service / weight tills are a revelation. They're so inaccurate, so some poor lass had to flit from station to station resetting them. Might as well have a normal checkout.


And what's with the talking escalators? Do I really need to be told when to get on and off? It echo'd around the whole store. I half expected Arnold whats-his-knickers to burst out out, red eye gleaming with his BFG (Rather large weapon, madam) asking us to "Stup aside, I zeed a Kingsmill". 


There was a lift. Yup. A lift. Even that talked to us. Asda, take note. Belt up. You obviously aren't married. I have a missus who insists on that. Show some respect.


I was pleased with the dropped curbs, level access, rails, and safe crossings around the store. Though I'd hate that 20 foot Asda sign shining 24/7 in my window.


On the way back, only a few yards away, I noticed a café I never knew existed. A real, old fashioned café that serves a full English breakfast. Remember those? I may even do a #deathwalk tomorrow when Tots has gone to school. Next door to Asda.


G'night folks.

Vat.

Might have noticed I mentioned VAT-free in one of my tweets. Hmm. Thorny subject that.


It took me years to discover it, and until they introduce PIP (personal independence payment) when who knows? If you are on Higher Level, or Mid Level Care DLA (disability living allowance) and a number of other aid benefits here in the UK, some aids are available VAT free.


More information here. Yup, I know it's an archive. Interesting in itself that it is. DLA and VAT


This tax relief is meant to cover basic disability aids. This means anything you can get from a Mobility or Disability shop, or anywhere else that supplies that equipment. I won't give you a list. 


But all you need to do, at least until April 2013, is you, or a carer fill in a VAT exception form or provide the details, or provide the details to enable such a form to be filled in.


More, most places require you to present to sign the form. Which, as you can imagine can be difficult.


Which is why it's a thorny subject for me. Word got out, didn't it. For the record, the magic phrase in the document is "products made widely available for a group of people to use".


So electric drills, sanders, bench saws, circular saws, planers, lathes and nail guns et-al are out. 


Yeh. I know. "If I just happened to have one?" it would make life so much easier. True. I wish. 


Sorry chaps. Nice try. ;)


~~~~~


Tomorrow, I'm going to remove the tick boxes from the bottom of these posts for a while. I hope that doesn't inconvenience anyone.

S'alright then

Well, I've been checked out, prodded, and tested. That threw up a "a couple of areas that it might be wise to look at" (isn't it always the case?). Nothing that would cause visual or auditory quirks.


'At the worse' it was speculated,  I could have had a momentary blank-out. Strokes have been known to cause epilepsy-type conditions of varying degrees. Apparently lots of perfectly healthy people have unusual experiences. They just don't talk about it for fear of ridicule. 


So they've said not to worry about it, (which I'm not) and chalk it up to experience. Just to let them know if that sort of thing gets much more frequent. Fair enough.


Which is good. :)

Um, I dunno.

I had a very odd experience this tea time. 


Actually, it was between 16:31 and 16:34. How do I know? Because I've got that kind of mind.


There was a tap on the front door, and a tall, slim distinguished gentleman with short white hair and a white goatee beard asked for me by my christian name. That got my attention immediately because he used the name I'm normally called by. I have two christain names, I've used my second all my life except for official purposes, when I use both. Long story :)


He shook my hand, asked whether I was well, how Bear and Tots are, (by their real names) looking relaxed but somewhat distracted, then he looked straight at me, hands in trousers pockets, very intently, for at least 20 seconds. During the pause, I got the chance to, well, look him up and down. I'll get to that in a minute.


"Look" he sighed, shrugging and relaxing again "This is going to sound a bit strange, but no worries? Is that ok with you?" I wouldn't have known him from Adam. So I asked, excuse me, but... He replied "I wouldn't bother about that. I just need you to know, ok, yes?" 


He was tall. Taller than me. About 6'4" I'd say. Late 60's early seventies? Very slim, slicked back very short white hair, goatee beard, neat moustache. A thick material suit, with a waistcoat, really out of keeping with the weather (26 C) with a dark, mid brown, almost tartan pattern. Buttoned. Light tan well polished expensive looking laced shoes. I've racked my brains trying to remember his shirt and tie, but I'm stuck on that one.


There was something about his eyes. Can't put my finger on it.


If I'd seen him in the street, I would have noted a tall slightly eccentric but dapper antique dealer. 


Here's the disconcerting bit. He smiled, turned away, and disappeared. 


I was on my doorstep, I can see all the way up my path to my gate. He sort of, went. He turned and he wasn't there. This bloke was solid as a rock. He shook my hand. He just went.


I know what you're thinking. Strokie, brain damage? Right? No. Never hallucinations. No history of any mental illness including depression. 


I've no idea what to make of it. Well, not quite true. I do, but I don't like it.

Olymipics

A very interesting post by Paul Lewis.


Click here. http://paullewismoney.blogspot.co.uk/2012/05/selling-olympic-torches.html

Handshake

Y'now, there are certain unwritten rules in business.


That's because if you want to keep in business you need be part of the business community, however loosely. For instance you get more orders than stock in - who do you turn to for stock? If you get overwhelmed, who can you pass trade to, who you know will offer it back if things get slack? A customer has an unusual request, like wise. 


Of course there's nothing wrong in thinking "What's in it for me?". You're in business to make money after all. Competition is good for everyone. But it's the way you conduct yourself that oils the wheels. Honesty, integrity, and gaining respect aren't only principles, they're useful tools.


I made a little deal not long back. We shook hands on it. In my world, that handshake was 'it'. I set the supply chain in motion, drafted the contract and started knocking together the invoices. Then zilch. Nothing.


So I made the call. "Welcome to the real world kid". Kid? I'm over twenty years older. "It's dog eat dog out there. I told them your offer, they bettered it." Ahuh? Quality? Quantity? Supply? As a matter of interest, did you tell them my offer, or use it as base? "Look kid, this is the way it works. I go to an auction, Until that gavel comes down, all options are open, right until the end".


I pointed out that an auction is an open public competition where everyone is present. That's true whether it's a stuffed cow head or a stock trading floor. "F**k" he replied before hanging up. "Can't believe you're so naive."


Nah. I'm not actually. Not the first time I've been at the wrong end of a brain-picking scam. I made a few phone calls, and his accountant is going have to explain on his tax returns about the 'difficult trading environment' to Her Majesties Revenue & Customs. 


He didn't just inconvenience me, after all. But I have good rep, and I was wise enough to have nothing clicking up a gear until I'd bunged the paperwork in. Sorry, in english that means my suppliers won't do their thing until there's a proper paper trail, at my request. I'd never do supplier credit. Too many have gone to the wall doing that. 


Community, integrity, honesty, but most of all, reputation :)

Don't worry be happy

I've just read a restaurant review that that included the word 'excrescences'. Though I hate those places with a passion, I love reading reviews. The reviewer was the excellent Matthew Norman, so I'll let him off. Just this once. Excrescences indeed. I could do without reading words like that at tea-time, aka Lunch, if one's posh.


From Google. 

• A distinct outgrowth on a human or animal body or on a plant, esp. one that is the result of disease or abnormality.
• An unattractive or superfluous addition or feature.

Looks over shoulder and whispers.. Hey, you'll never see me wordy like that. Honest.....

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Went for a wobble with Bear to a shop. Across the field, then across a main road. It's hills, hills all the way. 

Not bad on the way down. Roads are ok. These have steps and drop kerbs, which is cool. 35 degree fields are not. Yes. I admit it. I measured it. I'm nerdy, and there's an app for that. Oh, and just for the record that's, given a 35 degree angle, and knowing the distance, a roughly 155 foot rise between top and bottom. So there. Don't need an app for that.

Takes The Bear 25 mins alone there and back. Took us 40 mins together. Might have been a bit quicker without Bears swearing breaks. I wos shocked. Shocked I tells you :) Ker-knackered I am.

~~~~

I spoke to a politician today. I don't know what I expected. I'm old school. Come from a time they made sense, even if it was disagreeable. It started out fine. They phoned me. Hard as I tried, I couldn't get any sense out of the chap.I wheedled, cajoled, jollied, pushed and parried. I reassured him he wan't being recorded. 

And.... ? Nuthin. He talked sound bites and rubbish. I swear he was a confused actor who'd never seen a script. Maybe he had one, but I wasn't following it. I'm not even sure it was English. So here's a word for you.

Obfuscation. 

• Obfuscation (or beclouding) is the hiding of intended meaning in communication, making communication confusing, wilfully ambiguous, and harder to interpret.

G'night folks.

Wow, what a day. Bear, a nephew, father-in-law, and good neighbours have been running trip after trip, at their own expense decanting my lads furniture into his sisters and my place. 


He lost his job at a major bank a few weeks back, was messed around by the Jobcentre - they cancelled his claim because he failed to sign on on a bank holiday. They aren't open on a bloody bank holiday. Luckily, the private company who does housing benefit have refunded his rent, which he'd paid from his meagre reserves, too late. He had to give notice to his private landlord well before that, as he couldn't see any income coming in.


More they agreed to pay his full rent (which he's already paid from his own pocket) until the time he moved out. Beyond that, nope. It's crazy.


Have the Jobcentre admitted their mistake? Hell no. New claim, and he has to appeal. Twots. He should get some income in a few days under the new claim


SO he's moving in with his sister. He was/is given priority preference for social housing. But nah. Nothing. Good job he has somewhere to go, temporarily. Digging around the Net, this isn't unusual.


Meanwhile, I've been cat sitting. A kitty, a three-legged, ours, and a woofler. It's been like negotiating with United Nations, what with pets and people in and out  all day. I'm shattered.


Time alone now though. It's good.