Monday, 28 November 2011

The Straw That Broke This Camels Back

  1. There is much activity in the unit next but one to Asda [next door to the post office].
 And rumours:
  1. Netto in Langley Mill only leased their store, Asda has since bought the lease to stop competitors buying it.
  2. There is going to be a bookies in the old Co-op/Potters building.

Sunday 20th November:
Fairly normal day, then decided to watch a bit of rubbish on the telly - you know the sort I mean - it doesn't tax your brain but neither is anyone trying to impress me with their singing, dancing, skating, quick wit or imposing cleavage [got one]. Ergo Jackie Chan and The Medallion or some-such nonsense.

As films go it was mediocre but as I said I wasn't watching it to work out who-dunnit, because as ever in these films, it's always the English man what dunnit and they show him to us at the start, looking ever so evil and speaking with your oh so average cut-glass accent.

Anyway to make a long story even longer - well you don't have to read this - the film was ruined by the hum coming from - as I thought - an Asda chiller lorry waiting to be let in through the effin squeaky gates. It was louder than the telly - but this went on and on [a bit like this blog post really] for over two hours.

I eventually decided to go and have a wallow in the bath with my latest soggy book, as I couldn't in all seriousness sit in the living room any longer. My grumpy old man, bless him, decided that he'd go over to see what was happening.

It was not an Asda chiller lorry ... He saw a 'Kev' the night manager, he was - like all Asda staff we've spoken to - nice and polite and very, very apologetic. They must go on a 'cringing, I'm not worthy' course before being set on there ... note to self - Do not apply for a job at Asda, you're far too bolshy and argumentative.

Righto, this here thing making all the noise was a freezer container - delivered warmish - and was busy cooling down for all the frozen stuff to go in out of the main freezer. It should be much improved later when it was at the right temperature - this turned out to be utter garbage as the 'improvement' was worse. He was going to phone the manager and tell her that we'd complained and he was very, very, sorry.

Monday 04.20:
Yawn ... mutter, grumble, whinge, bleep, bleep wan**rs! ... After a greatly disturbed night with the noise and vibration, I gave up and decided to be awake and extremely grumpy. This mood went on for a considerable amount of time. I knew I'd got to be calm and as pleasant as it was possible for me to be when I went across to see Ms Asda, so I stomped around and kicked a few things to get it out of my system.

Showered, breakfasted and dressed ... 'ommmmm, ommmmmm' - getting there. The phone rang, I answered ... 'tinkly music', pause ... 'Hello' not a British accent ...
'Very nice bit of music' I replied, dripping with sarcasm and venom ...
'My name's Daniel Smith and I want -' ...
'Is it bol***s!  ... If your name is Daniel Smith, I'm Ali Mahatma Singe'.

And that was it, I was in a much better mood, I went to see Ms Asda. I passed grumpy on my way out and said 'I'm off' ... even though he saw and heard me, he didn't know where I'd gone, he searched the house before he cottoned on and followed ten minutes later.

I went in and asked for Ms Asda and gave my name. She was quite quick arriving, very pleasant and asked how I was ...
'Tired, I've been awake since 4.20 this morning and I don't need to be' ...

It seemed to come as a complete surprise that anything Asda-ish could possibly be at fault. They've never had noise complaints before [gasp, choke].
'Ah, well the problem is our main freezer looks like a grotto and so we needed the freezer container for the contents.' ...
There was more in a similar vein to what the 'Kev' told gumpy and it would be gone by Wednesday.

'Hmm I can live with that, as long as it's not going to be month after month or I will phone the council.' ...
'Oh no, there's no need for that, definitely Wednesday ... this week ... sometime.' ...
'And while I'm here and for at least the fifth time of asking, can you do something about the delivery yard gates?' ... Now this is where it pays to speak to the ACTUAL manager, rather than under-managers, night managers, men in finance, Scottish 'know it nots' or security men. It was seen to almost straight away, in fact a maintenance man was requested while I was still there.

I got out my list of other complaints - it was long and ranty and for my eyes only - 'Oh, and can you tell your night staff not to throw pallets about in readiness for a delivery ... midnight is usually the noisiest.' I did not admit that I'm usually still up for this delivery as I know it does wake other people up ... see, I can be thoughtful.

I also asked if it were at all possible to do something about the security light shining straight into our bedroom windows at the top end of the street ... this appeared to be unachievable, even though I have photographic evidence that the others must have been adjusted. I'm now wondering what reach a pocket sized catapult has got, maybe my grumpy will make me a folding, industrial sized one that I can attach to our front wall ... hmm, ammunition?

Anyway, all this complaining from moi has been a 'learning curve' - I do so like to be helpful - my telephone number was taken as a 'point of contact' ... yeah, I think it was chucked in the bin too, I will of course apologise on my blog if it hasn't. I will be phoned when the freezer container is going ... and, ahem, when we're likely to be disturbed again.

To be honest, the Asda manager couldn't really have been more helpful if she'd tried, but - as I write this - I'm very tired, stressed and in full grumpy whinging mode - as can also be seen from my 'tweets', where I'm once or twice, ahem, quite horrible ...

Monday was horrendous, ditto Tuesday, likewise Wednesday.

I 'twittered' all night Monday, just to myself as I have few followers. Tuesday I couldn't sit still, I was bouncing off the walls all day, but that night I eventually fell into an exhausted sleep. Wednesday I was up most of the night again 'twittering'.

Very early Thursday morning the container was moved by an Asda lorry front to the loading area to be emptied back into the main freezer. Then later another one moved it back so the driver could make his delivery. It's over ...

But it's not. I'm writing this bit the following Monday and I'm still vibrating where I touch the floor or seat - the computer is causing it now. I can't have a bath because I feel sea-sick when ours or next door's heating is on. I experienced the same thing last year just before HH was demolished, lovely. I remember it lasted quite a while. I have since done a little light research and it looks like I'm one of those prats who are affected by low frequency noise and vibration, just what I need.

And I'm still waiting for my phone call from Ms Asda, yeah you're right, she probably has got more important things to think about. So, until next time ...

Thursday, 24 November 2011

My Belated Birthday

Oops, I got sidetracked and forgot to publish this post ...

I decided to stay at the tin hut for my birthday this year, rather than coming home and going back to close down for the winter. We won't be doing it again.

I have mentioned in previous ramblings that I love fireworks and fancied seeing them at a different venue. This was not to happen - apart from me venturing out on to the veranda or looking through a window, as I totally forgot how traumatized our cat would be. I hold myself entirely to blame for this oversight ... poor pussy.

At home during the few weeks of lunacy, she sits at the top of the stairs, this is in the centre of the house and she obviously feels safe there. At the caravan she didn't know what to do with herself, it was like being in a war zone with the three houses behind us all having bonfires and fireworks over the weekend. As well as the constant bangs, spent rockets were clattering on the caravan roof. She eventually cowered, trembling under a nest of tables, all we could do was turn the telly up and try to placate her with soothing words ... and tuna fish.

Anyway, why do we have to have bangers going off week after week? What's wrong with doing it all on bonfire night? Pet owners can prepare for a one night event - yeah, yeah, when they don't forget what they're doing and take their cat away - but these days it's endless torture for both pets and wildlife. We never once saw our badgers during the run up to bonfire night, nor since ... although they did eat the nuts, probably in the quieter small hours.

Ranty bit over, on to my birthday:

As I said, I decided before we went to the tin hut - mid October, after Center Parcs - that we'd stay until early/mid November and close up the caravan - I absolutely hate doing that job but have no choice ... unless I want to freeze me bits off - and so, we would be away for my birthday. It didn't matter, it wasn't an important one and I told everyone - or thought I had - that I'd celebrate a week late.

We arrived home on the Wednesday after my birthday ... eventually, as the car decided to throw a few wobblies and has subsequently had surgery with more to follow soon ... getting expensive now, I have had to give it a verbal warning about its days being numbered if it doesn't pull its fan belt up.

Thursday morning:
Blah, the house is a tip, the contents of a caravan to store away, whinge, moan, gripe. Other things to do that were left half done as we never seem to be at home ... mutter, grumble. three inches of dust to rearrange, you'd think my neighbour would have dealt with that ... and she's not been around to water my house-plants since I've been back - I forget that this is now my job.

Obviously no-one will visit in the next two days, I've told all MY family and friends that I'm having my birthday a week late, on the 13th, so the clutter can stay ... well, cluttered for a bit while I decide where it'll go.

Wrong! Two phone calls later, it transpires that the GOM's family will be arriving after school - there's only me to blame. I mean, why should I have expected the same info to have filtered to his side of the family - when I'd told him to tell them - who were keen to give me cards and pressies ASAP.

Oh well, I've got a few hours to make the house look a little less like a charity shop reject skip. Important things - like work - can wait.

Just after a late lunch - we're fairly tidy, in a temporary fashion, but woe betide anyone who attempts to open any cupboard doors in the bedroom or bathroom - I was busy working and could hear grumpy rummaging through the kitchen cupboards. Hmm, I wonder?

'I'm just nipping over to Asda, I fancy a cold drink and we've got no lemonade or J2o's ... um, shall I get some cake while I'm there?' ...
'Yes please, fruit cake.' ... Now this is me being evil, I know full well that he's only going because his family are visiting for my birthday but as I've mentioned before, I like to watch him squirm.
'Er, no ... I thought, um ... chocolate cake??' ...
'No, too sickly, I want fruit cake.'...
'I'll get both' ... Hehehe.

He arrived back a little later, I can hear things being put away in the kitchen, then in he struts, handing me a box of 'Celebrations' ... 'I've bought you these for your birthday.' He lied. He must think I'm thick ...
'Ohh, ta, I'll just hide them before your lot come because I don't want to share 'em' ... hahaha. He squirmed and blustered - victory.

Yes, I am horrible, but I can read him like a book - hard back with few pages and lots of pictures [yeah, Beano annual] - bless him. He only had to tell me what he was really doing instead of trying subterfuge, he's not mentally adept enough for that because - well, he's only a man. Although, now I think about it ... he didn't get me any fruit cake ...

Tuesday, 15 November 2011

KFC - A Tiny Bit Halal

To sign an e-petition to ban all religious animal slaughter in the UK - click HERE

I've read a few articles on t'Interweb over the last year or so - in fact the majority of this post was written exactly two years ago, but had been left simmering in my drafts - about certain supermarkets and KFC selling halal meat. Even some schools and hospitals serve halal and worse - gasp - your pub grub has possibly been ritually slaughtered

I personally find this disturbing, because:
  1. People don't know what they're eating.
  2. It's cruel.
  3. It's unnecessary.
  4. It's done for religious reasons.
How is this happening in a supposed Christian country? Well, we let it happen. We're so wishy washy in our own beliefs, only worshipping the £££££££££££ 's that it was easy. Even Christmas ... one of our biggest days of the year has been reduced to nothing more than a massive spendathon.

Now, I admit, I'm not religious in the traditional sense, I follow my own crackpot beliefs. But on the other hand I don't mind what other people believe in, be it a God or a sugar puff fairy. What I do object to is cruelty to animals especially when it's because of a religion that's got nowt to do with us.

Do you know what halal meat is? Well, it's where the animal isn’t properly - if at all - stunned before having its throat cut to bleed to death, a verse/prayer - presumably from the koran - is said while the animal dies. I'm not ever so thrilled with any method of killing animals for our consumption but it's been proved that the animals, particularly the younger ones suffer for up to five minutes before they die by the halal method.

I assume that KFC's excuse - just like most of the big supermarkets ... oh, didn't you know that they sold halal meat in some of their stores without telling you? - is that they're 'responding to customer demand'. Aren't we customers too? Apparently, even though their every whim seems to have been catered for, Muslims have threatened to boycott KFC because their chicken isn't halal enough ... so, let 'em.

When did we - in this supposed enlightened age - start putting religion before cruelty to animals? I'm both shocked and dismayed by the barbaric attitude towards animals that we're allowing on religious beliefs, I bet the politically correct brigade would kick-up a fuss if it were Christians causing unnecessary suffering.

Apparently at the KFC's still running the halal trial, it's clearly marked on the door that their chicken is halal, oh yeah, and there's no bacon. But if you're not a Muslim, then you probably won't know what the sign means, and anyway who looks at anything - apart from opening times - written on the door? If you do notice it and ask for non-halal chicken you will be directed to another KFC within 7 miles, thereby giving the impression that you have a choice.

All this actually means is that the choice I'll be making is that I won't be going to any KFC ...

Saturday, 12 November 2011

Asda's Christmas Lights Event Donation ... For Eastwood

It's well known that I need a rocket up my a**e some mornings to get me out of bed, well this mornings rocket arrived by yet another google alert [Asda Langley Mill] on my android jobby. I actually used a bad swearword whilst emerging from under the duvet.

Asda in LANGLEY MILL have yet again donated £2,000 to Eastwood's Christmas light switch on event. Bearing in mind - as I've mentioned before - that Eastwood is not only a different town - with its own superior supermarket - but also in another county with a different council. Incidentally, I've got absolutely nothing against Eastwood, but I think the needs of Heanor and Langley Mill are greater, as their lights are - in mine and all my friends opinions - abysmal.

Is Langley Mill going to get any Christmas lights this year? We used to have them, I presume that it's up to the parish council, but Asda has such a large footprint in our small town/village that you'd think they'd at least make the offer.

If I find that they have indeed offered to buy us some lights or sponsor any sort of Christmas lights event in Langley Mill [amidst the everlasting roadworks], I will blog accordingly. I may even apologise ... but don't hold your breath, as anything good they may do now will be outweighed by how much they annoy me on a nightly basis - yeah, yeah, when I'm here and not tin hutting by the sea.

I have been made aware that Eastwood possibly asked Asda directly for a donation. So I may pop over later and tell 'em that I need some party stuff for my Christmas lights switch on.

Yes, I know that the donation/sponsorship is for the 'switch-on' event and not for the actual lights, but if Asda give me £2,000 I'll at least make a bit of Langley Mill - OK, just a small part of Bridge Street ... at the top end - look pretty.

Anyway, the upshot is - that my grumpy old man has decided that if our Christmas lights are going to be in Eastwood, then that's where we'll do our shopping.

Morrisons here we come - [and just for Bernard] 'Running Back To You' ...

Tuesday, 8 November 2011

Sneaking Extra People Into Center Parcs

I have been a bit bemused lately by how many people have looked at my blog searching for 'how to sneak extra people into Center Parcs'.

Here's an interesting idea ... don't do it.

You knew Center Parcs was expensive before you booked your holiday, if your friends can't afford to go, I suggest they go elsewhere. You wouldn't try to smuggle any extra 'guests' onto an aeroplane for a villa holiday abroad.

Nor would anyone in their right mind try to sneak any extras into that compound just up the road from here - Butlitz, Ingoldmells - or would they? The mind boggles at what people expect to get for free these days.

Anyway, I object to the idea that valuable seating - insufficient at times - inside the free dome at Center Parcs may be taken up by non-payers when I'm there. I've got a biggish bum which needs accommodating comfortably when it's not displacing vast quantities of water on the rapids.

I work hard to pay for my holidays, as do most other people. When my work runs short and I can't afford Center Parcs extortionate prices, I don't go.

So pay your way ...

Monday, 7 November 2011


Yes, that's my number ...

Every time I've looked at BBC's t'Interweb top ten read articles, this bit of news has been hovering around ... the 7 billionth baby was about to be born. Chuff me! The world population has more than doubled since I made an early appearance thanks to a jumping jack and a heavily pregnant woman ... er, jumping.

How did we become so many? Hmm, They'll tell us it's the developing worlds ... er, developing. But ignore them, it's mostly because they keep trying to make us live longer. They tell us what to eat, what not to drink, how much exercise to have, blah, blah, blah. And when we've complied with that, they moan that we're too numerous.

Some complete prats are now experimenting [possibly at my expense] on how to make us live longer - er, what for? So we can all be looked after in an old peoples home - not on your nelly, I'm not going into that sort of accommodation without recourse to lots of gadgets, broadband, and a means to complain about anything and everything to social services via the internet.

My, my, now I think about it logically, I'm almost looking forward to being a disgruntled old lady in a residential prison, how things will have changed by then. When I'm a crumbly [with all my marbles - hopefully]. We'll not be satisfied with being shoved in front of the telly for 12 hours a day, then eating, sleeping and pooping the rest of the time.

Not a bit of it, we'll expect to take technology and social networking with us, we'll be able to tell the world at large if anyone mistreats us, and if we're not heard from within a certain time-frame, alarm bells will ring ...

Thursday, 3 November 2011

Leave My Clock Alone!!

I do not expect anyone to agree with me on this subject, but this is my diary and I'll whinge if I want to ... and I want to ...

Does anyone know the real reason why we still have British Summertime? No me neither, but it means I've got to get up an hour earlier than I want to or forever be branded 'idle'. And me, being such a sensitive soul, force myself out of bed by 9.30am whether I need to be up or not ... what do you mean 9.30am is late? I'd agree if it wasn't actually 8.30am - in the summer - in the winter I have no excuse.

And they've now they've got the cheek to decide that it'd be a good idea for us to get up two hours earlier in summer and one hour earlier in winter ... well it's not happening in our house! My bathroom already lives in permanent Greenwich Meantime as I refuse to alter at least one clock - it buggers up my bath time no end but I'm not about to give in.

Apparently, according to them in the know ... tourism will increase, fuel emissions would drop, lives would be saved and our carbon footprints will be smaller - how? it's colder on dark mornings than dark evenings, thus requiring more gas and electric just to get up and go. And do they not know that we don't all live in London, I really can't see Skeggy suddenly becoming thronged with more tourists just because it'll be lighter an hour later. Will we have siesta's in the afternoons with touristy shops closing and reopening in the evenings like they do in Spain.

And lets not forget that in the months of 'double summertime' there is likely to be even more loony antisocial behaviour as teenagers will be roaming the streets for an hour longer, with nothing to do except being a pain in the bum.

And anyway we all know the real reason for this idea is to bring us in line with Europe. Well I'm English first, British second and very, very grudgingly European third and I don't give a flying f**t what time it is in Europe! I've heard it argued that Scandinavia - dark in the winter - is in line with European time, well it would be as it's on a different longitude from us so is irrelevant as an argument.

I can vaguely remember the last experiment ... It didn't work then so what makes them think it'll work now. It was so dark in the morning when I went to school that a penny was thrust into my little grasping hand each November, December and January morning so I could catch the bus - yum, sweets - well I wasn't wasting it on bus fare was I. And I didn't have the type of mother who'd stand at the bus stop to make sure I caught the bus - yeah, that's a laugh, because I didn't even have the type of mother that got up with me to make sure I got to school after the age of six.

Warning! Yet more reminiscing moments ahead:

I remember one time - at the grand old age of eight - leaving my cereals because they tasted awful. I was duly informed when I got home from school that when I'd climbed up to the top cupboard to retrieve the sugar - red lidded jar - I'd fetched down the salt - blue lidded jar ... only it wasn't, she who must be obeyed had filled them up wrong. I've never put sugar [or salt] on cereals since then.

Getting up alone had its advantages though, many a time during those dark winter mornings I had tomato soup and a glass of milk for breakfast. I'd then tiptoe into my mum's bedroom holding her purse, claiming to need money for something or other - as in the bus - to receive a grunt, whilst a hand reached out for the purse to find me a penny. Oh, this was well before the days of spending money, this was in the days of 'cunning'.

Er, what am I writing about? Let me see, dum de dum ... Oh yes the clocks, how did I manage all that drivel when I'm meant to be having a whinge?

I'm amazed at how many people actually think we're going to gain any more daylight hours, there aren't any spare, they think the government give them to us ... der! I've heard people say 'Oh I love the long summer evenings, won't it be nice to have another hour.' Wake up dimwits! You're not actually getting another hour, they've pinched it from the morning for us to have in the evening.

Actually, I've even heard one or two crumblies wishing for an extra evening hour ... er, why? What have they done with all their other hours - hmm, afternoon boredom naps - that they need more daylight later?

It's been stated that we waste daylight hours in bed in the mornings, when we could be up and about our business ... why should I be up? For those that need to start work early to be in line with Europe - bright idea coming up - why don't they go to work earlier and then leave work earlier, instead of interfering with my clock? It's not rocket science. This would have the added bonus of relieving traffic congestion and saving lives. Ah yes, as I thought, it's got bog all to do with saving lives - although quite clearly southern lives are far important than we northerners - and everything to do with bloody Europe.

Fortunately or unfortunately - I'm not sure how this clock interference will affect me in the long term - I have the type of mentality that takes each season as it comes and enjoys it and its varying weather patterns and daylight hours ... instead of wishing my life away. I rarely, if ever, moan about the weather or the lack of long summer evenings when autumn and winter arrive ... has no-one else except me heard of cosy winter nights? Am I the only one who hated trudging to work in the dark but didn't mind walking back home in the dark?

Thinking of getting home and snuggling in for the evening used to get me home from work smiling [maybe I just have a good imagination]. Alas - as you can tell with this moan - what I don't have, is the capacity to cope with getting up on dark mornings, I absolutely loathe them, what is also painfully obvious [to me], is that I'm more like my mother - re-mornings - than I'd ever hoped to be ...