3 August 2011 (Wednesday) - This n That

Over brekkie I had a mooch on the internet. Because I can because my router is working. It’s no secret that I love the entire concept of blogging – I do like seeing what other people are getting up to. And having read the most recent blog of a Canadian cousin, I spent the morning in childish giggles. My cousin was extolling the virtues of her Dutch Oven.

In Canada and the USA, a “Dutch Oven” is a cast iron cooking pot with a tight fitting lid that is used over an open fire. When camping with American scouts in Seattle I was invited to a Dutch Oven workshop in which field chefs had prepared a veritable banquet for us. And I giggled like an idiot the entire time then as well. To me a Dutch Oven isn’t a cooking vessel – it is something entirely different. I won’t go into details here - if any of my loyal readers would like enlightenment, just drop me a line: I have been told that some of my descriptions of my more recent toilet adventures have been a tad too graphic. (Sorry!)

Yesterday I whinged about how disorganised I have become. And today I find that I’ve slipped up again. Over the last few years I’ve been on many a drunken pub crawl round Hastings Old Town, and talked about organising a team for the Old Town Pram Race. I’ve missed the boat – that event happened today. It’s amazing what you miss if you don’t stay alert. Next year I shall sort something out for the pram race.

I then went on a minor shopping spree. First of all to return the unwanted router to Curry’s. The man in the shop had been rather insistent that we took what he was offering, but it turned out that he’d sold us a router with an intranodaling quadroflanger with megatoodling capability. What we actually needed was a router that had a J7-5B interfacing USB intercompatible functionality. (Or something along those lines).

I went into the shop prepared for a fight. I just knew they weren’t going to be happy with giving me a refund. I’d done my homework and found out my statutory rights under the Sale of Goods Act. I politely explained to the girl on the till that I’d like a refund. She didn’t look happy. I started to explain what the bloke last night had said. And the moment I mentioned the bloke who was on last night, her entire demeanour changed. My money was immediately refunded, and she started a minor tirade about colleagues who aren’t quite as knowledgeable about their stock as they might be.

I then went on to Angling Direct (the new name for Ashford tackle). They had a display of bargain bivvies outside the shop. (A “bivvie” is an overpriced tent used when fishing). I spent all of thirty seconds looking at the display. Any camping shop would sell a tent twice the size for half the price.

But I do like Angling Direct: I can never find what I’m looking for, and neither can the staff. We all spent an entertaining five minutes trying to find Arsely bombs.

And then to the petrol station at Tesco’s. This is another place I go to purely for the abysmal service they offer. Whenever I go in I always hope to see the two old biddies on the tills. They are constantly gossiping about inconsequential trivia, and wouldn’t dream of interrupting their conversation for anything as unimportant as a customer. And when they find a customer who cannot make a payment without their having to break off their conversation, they get quite aggressive.

I always make a point of having difficulties making my payment.

And in closing I found today’s photo on Facebook – one of my cousins had been going through her old albums and came up with this piccy of herself and her sister with my grandparents.

I’m told I look like Granddad. Can’t see it myself…..