Saturday, 15 December 2007

That's Life

I got the coffee. Hurrah. Didn't have to remember to buy it; a friend remembered I was out and brought some round. Now that's service! That or she's she's really scared of how poorly I function without it. I also got the bath. Of course, the bath would have been more relaxed had Bob's message informing me he would not be coming today had been received beforehand, so I didn't need to rush to be dressed before his arrival. But still, a bath in the company of an unread book, without children, not to be sniffed at. Actually, sniff away, it smelt pretty good.

Mog's room is mostly decorated. She is very pleased with it, particularly with this wall. No, that isn't her in the picture and please don't show her the outfit; she doesn't need any more ideas! Of course, in the sales pic for this wall, the room itself is quite a bit larger than Mog's. Somehow the picture looks different when it's pasted across a couple of corners with a giant perspex cot covering the coach and horses. But it was ready for her when she got home from school yesterday, and she loved it so much she refused to come out for tea last night, and only agreed to leave her room this morning after being bribed by the prospect of buying new shoes.

New Shoes. Mog LOVES shoes. Since her hip op, it has been decided that she no longer needs to wear ankle splints. Not because her feet are better, sadly, but because her tone is too high to cope with the splints. The good news as far as Mog is concerned is that this means her shoes (bought to fit over the splints) are all too big. So we have been waiting for a time to buy new ones.

Into town. A wonderful discovery; two new disabled parking spaces right in the centre of town, in the most central, perfect, spot ever. We've had major roadworks through the town centre for the past year or so, these spaces have been added in the last two days and I LIKE them! So, a good start.

Through town and over the road and up to the hole in the wall machine to grab some money. First problem; my card is accepted by the machine but it refuses to give me money. Also refuses to give me information on my balance. Worrying - I know I have money in the account, so has it been emptied by persons unknown? I have £3.27 in my purse, and a checkbook.

On to the shoe shop, where Mog falls in love with a pair of boots. Brown boots with zips at the side, embroidered with red roses and green leaves. They're yummy; I want a pair. They're not cheap - prices are not displayed, but when the shoes come in a tin instead of a cardboard box, you can be reasonably certain you're no longer in bargain city. Happily for Mog, the shoe shop takes cheques, so I pay and we head back to the car.

Home via Argos, for a new blender. Five years of daily use and our old Braun has given up the ghost. Waiting until Christmas isn't really an option; both girls need "whizzed" food and like to eat more than once a month. Argos does not take cheques. I hand over my card, preparing to be embarrassed and apologetic. But it is accepted by the machine and the sale goes through. It is however refused at the food place. Odd.

Getting home I call the number on the back of the card. This gives me two options. The first is irrelevant, the second is for all other enquiries. I hit number two and get the following message "this is a dedicated phone line for problem number one. Please call your local branch". Marvellous. It's a Saturday, the bank is shut, and by now I'm worried that either someone has nipped into my account and stolen all my money, or that the bank has decided that my Christmas shopping is unusual spending and put a hold on transactions. It does specialise in doing this at odd and frustrating times, usually when I'm trying to spend money. Almost never when I am trying to pay money in.

I find another phone number and ring it. I am put on hold. after 14 minutes and 55 seconds a woman answers the phone. In my excitement at reaching a real live human being I accidentally shut off the phone. Rats. No matter; I redial. 17 minutes and 37 seconds later I reach a second real live person. She requests my card number. I begin to read it off, she interrupts me "sorry madam, that is card X. This is a line for cards Y and Z only." Before I can start to cry properly, she offers to transfer me to the number I actually need. I thank her. 2 minutes and 13 seconds later the phone is answered yet again, by a woman who needs bank details not listed on the card. I put the card down and rifle through my handbag to find my chequebook. She gets the information she needs, and then asks for my card number again. Card has, of course, disappeared in my hunt for the account number.

Thankfully, before I am forced to hang up and shoot myself
make plans to withdraw all my money and hide it under the mattress before firebombing the bank hunt for the card and redial, I notice the card. Lying in a puddle of yoghurt on the work surface. Excellent. She runs my details through the computer and decides there is no problem at all, which is annoying, but better than discovering someone has cloned my identity and spent Bob's fee. She will arrange for a new card to be sent out, and in the meantime I can continue to use the old one. More or less.

Right. Lunch. The girls have been fed and watered whilst I have been waiting on hold (multitasking), so I grab something quick for myself and then it's on to finding things to do this afternoon. We need milk, vegetables, bread, and a few other things. So naturally we spend the afternoon listening to music, playing with photographs, and listening to Little Fish discipline her baby dolls. I'll shop on Monday. Maybe.

Bed time.

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