I didn't sleep at all well last night. Ironically “er
indoors TM” and the dogs all slept the sleep of the just. I gave
up trying to sleep, got up and made toast, and as I sat myself in front of the
telly things felt rather cold. Somehow or other I'd ripped the arse out of my
favourite pyjamas.
I watched an episode of "Shameless" which
was rather good but... The whole premise of the show is a love triangle. Who
will Frank choose? But Frank has to choose between two rather attractive and
likeable women. And Frank is (quite literally) a rather disagreeable
tramp who stinks of his own piss (as he is regularly pissing himself).
Not very plausible, is it?
I then set off to work. Via the post office to post more
legal paperwork to my brother. I pulled up outside the collection office, and
posted the letter and was away in less than twenty seconds. The whole thing
passed off without incident... which was a bit of a shame. Traffic wardens
regularly lay in wait outside the sorting office and I'd been looking forward
to a fight.
As always I listened to the radio as I drove up the
motorway. As I drove the pundits on the radio were interviewing Fergal Sharkey
(of all people) about recent announcements made by the UK water companies.
It would seem that the UK water companies have formally
apologised to the UK public about the sewage spills into the country's rivers
and seas, and have announced a ten billion pound clean-up of the nation’s
waterways. However as Fergal Sharkey pointed out, this ten billion quid is
coming from increased water bills. the water companies are still keeping a
tight grasp on their profits.
And there was talk about how the average obese person costs
the NHS twice as much as the
average not-obese person. As a fat sod I take offence at that. I don't choose
to be a fat sod. According to my Samsung Health app, I walk an average distance
of three and a half miles each day. That’s more each day than over four fifths
of the people of my age, and still the pounds pile on.
I stopped off at Sainsbury’s on the way to work. Not
content with not having anyone on any of the tills forcing me to use the
self-service checkouts, they then insisted on physically checking that I’d paid
for everything in my shopping bag.
I told them to stick it up their arse; I shan’t be shopping
there again.
As I did my bit at work I had an email… Over the last few
months I’ve been so grateful for dad having put his affairs in order, but it
turns out there was one thing he didn’t do. He didn’t take Mum’s name off of
the deeds of the house. The solicitor wanted to know who this “Doreen”
was, and would she be involved in the sale of the house… I sighed.
They wanted a copy of mum’s death certificate… I’ve not got
it. Fortunately you can get them sent out from the registrar’s
office on the day after you ask for one. It would have saved a
whole load of farting about if they could have sent it straight to the
solicitor, but that’s not possible. Apparently. I’m sure it could be *if*
they tried. After all, they had to check that I was the right person to be
asking for a death certificate, and sending it to a solicitor’s office is a
rather crap way to run some sort of scam, isn’t it?
The death certificate should be in the post to me tomorrow.
That’s another thirty-five quid…
“er indoors TM” boiled up a rather
good bit of dinner which we scoffed whilst watching the final episode of “The
Great” which didn’t so much “end” as “fizzled out”.
As we watched we swilled a bottle of plonk… that’s a
headache for the morning…
No comments:
Post a Comment