Doggie Do's or Doggie Dont's

As I've mentioned before, I rarely walk around Langley Mill because it's, well, frankly - horrible. But last week we went over the bridge to visit friends on Thompson Street and I lost count of the piles [and trodden in splats] of poo.

I have to say that I'm not entirely convinced that dog-poo bags are the good idea they're meant to be. Some people that use them are complete t**ts and need educating on what to do with them - yes, really - because on a mere five minute walk we counted seventeen full dog-poo bags strewn around the dog-s**t hole that is Langley Mill.

Yes, it's highly unglamorous, walking along, swinging a bag full of poo until you reach the dog-poo bins or home, but it's hardly an arduous task now is it? And let's face it, carrying a bag of poo can have positive advantages - no more lippy teenagers! No, it's nothing to do with the dog, trust me, she's not scary - it's the poo.

Hmmmm, yes ... can anyone tell me why it is that on becoming a born again dog walker, I also appointed myself 'dog-crap police'?

This morning I heard myself - while out with the borrowed, mobile, hairy sideboard - bellowing across Queen Street rec at a man who was clearly NOT going to clear up after his dog. Telling him that he was not a very responsible dog owner. Not quite satisfied with that - and battling really hard to keep my mouth shut - I was then to be heard asking him if he was going to clean up his dog's mess.

By now I was practically begging myself to shut-up because I don't do confrontation. He shouted back that he didn't know his dog had crapped [a lie as he was actually watching the dog at the time], he then pretended to try to find something to clean it up with - which he didn't, he just left it on the grass for children to walk in - Ugh, disgusting man.

The hound and I decided we'd had enough fresh - cough, cough - air by now, so we stuck up our noses, wiggled our bums, and full of self-righteous indignation made our way back home ...

Another Peaceful Week?

Well we thought it was too good to last.

We're never really sure what Heanor Haulage are up to ... yes the same Heanor Haulage that, ahem, left Langley Mill for pastures new. The only thing we do know is they're bloody NOISY!!

Wednesday:
After stupidly mentioning to my grumpy old man that Heanor Haulage hadn't been here to annoy us so far this week [I need a zip for my mouth], they arrived to rearrange some crap. My GOM was told that this was so they could erect a new fence along the Pottery Lane side. Hmmm, so this is how you go on when you've left is it? Extending on one side and putting up new fencing on another.

RG Group has also been very much in evidence this week, some men in suits carrying folders and files, others were dressed for actual work. One gentleman took some photos of Asda's and HH's s**t heaps by the railway - a strange subject for photography, I thought I was the only one interested in the 3ft - 15ft high, hundreds of yards long [not in the mood to convert to metric] piles of rubble there.

Thursday:
A theodolite jobby appeared on top of the highest Asda/HH waste heap by the railway lines. Oh, do I keep repeating myself about the desolate wasteland created by ASDA and HEANOR HAULAGE? Well that's because it's still there and the trees plus any wildlife are still dead!

Friday:
Men arrived on HH's back yard and spent the entire day tweaking with a digger/shover whatsit, presumably to aid in the fence erecting. Another, newer, sprightlier JCB model was delivered in the morning and has been observed zipping from HH's back yard to the front. Meanwhile some RG Group men took down and moved HH's first fence you get to from Asda, The reason for this is - as yet - a mystery.

You may be able to tell that I'm in a bad mood, this is caused by the constant bleep-bloody-bleep of the newest toy, the many, many start-ups of the scrap metal being repaired on the back, the zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz bang, bang, bang of the fence being cut/dug out on front, with every likelihood that worse is yet to come.

Ohhh, chuffing heck! It's 3.30pm and after twiddling and revving from very, very early they've got that heap of scrap moving on the back yard. Evveeerrytthing iiis ssshhakkingggg aandd mmee pppotss arre ratttliing!

Saturday 8.10am:
Rattle, rattle, clank - Oh bo***oks, what now?! ... Heanor Haulage's gates were being unlocked.

8.15am:
Bleep bleep bleep - site man still incapable of driving forwards even though there's absolutely nothing in the way.

8.18:
Bang, bang, bleep, bleep as a generator is forcibly removed from the shiny new toy, across the footpath at slurry corner.

8.23am:
Brrrm, brrrm,  whooooooooosh as the now much verbally abused [by at least my neighbour and I] man started cleaning slurry corner - that's it ... I'm UP!

Now it just so happens that I'm looking after my youngest sister's dog while they're on holiday, it's a dog I find easiest to describe as an extra piece of large furniture in every room as she always seems to be where I am. But having said that, having a dog is invaluable for nosiness.

There was much harnessing and saddling done and then I went for a walk with my hairy sideboard - armed with four mammoth sized poo-bags. Upon reaching the ramp I interrogated - in a nice way - the pillock who thought it was a good idea to annoy us.

Anyway, it turns out that the fence shifting was done to make sure a - presumably escaped and run amok - lamppost was on Asda land rather than HH's, I suggested that it was somewhat petty and trivial [I probably actually said 'that's a bit mardy' but it doesn't sound very professional], this was tacitly agreed with.

On my way back I told him it was a losing battle; cleaning slurry corner while ever HH were backward and forwards spreading their sludge. I also pointed out that before long someone would be killed on that stretch of footpath - there is a blind spot caused by the 9ft high fence - he agreed that it wasn't ideal and said that for safety the GATES SHOULD ALWAYS BE SHUT.

Shortly after this little chat, two skips arrived and much, much more noise was made as they were being filled with RG Group's left over crap from HH's land, during which I received an irate text from my neighbour who then went out to tell the aforementioned gentleman what she thought. He apologised and said he'd be as quick as possible and he very much wished that he was at home - we have that effect.

I must say he did a good job of clearing everywhere up, including the rubbish that had accumulated - courtesy of Asda's scummiest shoppers - under the bridge. But why oh why do they always make the LOUDEST noises at the weekends?

So, all that remains now; is for us to get through next week's Heanor Haulage fence erecting and we'll be back to peace and quiet - oh, hang on, was that a pig going past the bedroom window? Hmmm, no, I thought not ...

Heanor R.I.P.

Be warned, I've got my bolshy look-I-told-you-so-and-therefore-am-likely-to-repeat-myself head on, if you want to read something cheerful then find something with a nicer title and don't bother reading this short [well it was meant to be] post.

I will just squeeze a few rumours in before we start as that cheers me up:

1. Heanor Tesco has been totally unaffected by Asda in Langley Mill.
2. Eastwood Morrisons has lost a lot of customers.
3. Asda is to lay off staff as they're not doing as well as expected.
4. Asda is setting on more staff to meet the demand.
5. Crumblies will have to pay half-fare on buses after April.
6. I've won the lottery.

At least one of those was a downright lie.

And does anyone know what's happening to our NETTO??

I was talking on MSN Messenger this afternoon with two friends [separately] and one told me that Heanor's Somerfield/Co-Op is to close on 16th April, I told the other friend, who said she'd heard it from her brother yesterday.

You have to ask yourself 'Did the Co-Op always intend to close?' Once they took over Somerfield, the retail space halved and the shelves were frequently empty of fresh food quite early in the day, as if they didn't really try or care.

So what's left in Heanor itself? Bookies, takeaways and charity shops just about sums up Heanor now. It looks like it's to become a ghost town as we all predicted when Asda decided to regenerate Langley Mill for us - with the best of intentions of course - I'll find the link to that particular post where I mentioned just such an eventuality in a minute ... phew, it took me ages to find it, don't I write a lot of crap? I eventually gave in and used the search term 'bookies' as I knew I'd mentioned it in roughly the same sentence, strange the things I remember.

Anyway, It's a shame that this is happening to Heanor. I moved there when I was 20 and it was a bustling, thriving market town and I instantly fell in love with the place [I moved around a lot as a small person], so it saddens me now to pass through [nothing to stop for] and see what it has become.

I still firmly blame Tesco [well I don't like Tesco] for starting Heanor's sad decline by building where they did. Then the other shops like Argos, Peacocks, Aldi and Poundstretcher following suit in a purpose built retail park across from them. I suppose it made economic sense for someone somewhere [probably the council] to build new shops and let the old buildings become second and third rate shops.

I suppose I can't blame Tesco for building where they did, but the town planners must have known the detrimental effect that it would have. There should have been some provision to ensure the future of Heanor. One easy thing for Tesco to have done from the beginning was to lay on a free bus to run every 10 minutes to and from the market place [calling at the retail park], that would have benefited the town centre and Tesco themselves, who could have bragged about how good they were - excellent publicity.

Why weren't any of these businesses at the retail park encouraged to move to Heanor's Market Place or Market Street in the first place? Perhaps it wasn't cost effective, but for the sake of the town it should have been made so. There were many rumours over the years about different stores opening in Heanor but nothing became of them.

I don't suppose Woolworths closing helped really [no matter how hard I try, I can't blame the council for that one] and maybe Heanor was doomed from then, because lets face it, once we're parked at Tesco or Heanor retail park - for free - we're not going to get back in the car, negotiate that crappy Tesco roundabout to go and pay to park on the market place, and we're all far too lazy - without Woolworths being where it was - [I include myself here], to walk up the hill from Tesco/Argos etc, to a town that no longer sells anything.

Eventually, as Heanor declines further, I predict that the shops will be made into flats for the scummy element to live for free, thus ensuring that no-one will venture anywhere near the town centre [I've seen this happen to two of the nicest streets in Skegness]. Hopefully this won't happen and instead they'll have nice roomy pads for crumblies to live in, because by then I'll be ready for crumbly accommodation.

And any council who keeps falling for big business bribes want their collective a**e kicking ...  'Ooooo, look what we'll do for you if you let us build a humungous blot on the landscape just there, oh and while we're at it we'll landscape this 2ft strip of unsightly land that'll be left over' ... roughly translated as 'When we've ripped all the indigenous trees up and destroyed any wildlife, we'll throw some soil at a teeny little bit of land and plant a few weedy specimens'.

But do councils really have that much choice??? Big businesses and developers are so much more powerful and have so much more money than any council, that they almost always get their own way - by hook or by crook. Never mind that they're decimating the town and destroying the livelihoods of small businesses.

Yes, I know Heanor's demise was probably originally bought about by industry moving away from the area, but I like to blame those that really run the country ... high profile retailers and developers, who keep building out of town retail parks until the nearby town is so run down that they then move in with an offer of demolishing everything that had been worth hanging on to but is now too expensive to repair.

And they'll tell us - in jolly tones - how they'll regenerate the place by building yet another store with JOBS for local people!! Alongside yet more depressing little boxes for some poor buggers to live in - complete with their very own minuscule garden or more often than not, just a parking space. Thus covering everything with tarmac, brick and concrete, with no green bits left to suck up the water! Then they'll be scratching their heads and saying 'Well I wonder why it flooded there?'

Oh heck, I think I got a bit carried away there. Now, I've lost me thread again, I wish I'd write in straight lines, thank heaven for cut and paste, I write what I think, where I think it then have to rearrange my blog ... and then I have to tweak it because it doesn't flow or make much sense ... what do you mean it doesn't make sense anyway? These are the ramblings of a grumpy old woman, they're not meant to!

Right back to the subject in hand:

From the few places I've visited on day trips during our 'crumbly holidays', one thing is glaringly obvious, each and every town centre is virtually identical, the only shops left are the ones you see everywhere else. They're the only ones that can afford to be in a town, the little private home-grown business is all but dead, Unfortunately, apart from Woolworths, Heanor had none of these big name shops.

And, lets face it, just out of town retail parks are a canker that has been eating away at all but the most prosperous of towns, and Heanor, on it's hill that we're all too idle to climb didn't stand a chance ...

Langley Mill Post Office For Sale

Now it's fairly well established that I'm nosy. So nosy in fact that by doing a bit of online searching [as you do] - whilst away on holiday from my beloved computer and laptop but armed with the MWg zinc ii and an intermittent reception - I found out that our post office is for sale for £250,000 [more recently reduced to £239,000 ... and again £215,000 ... a year later £175,000].

This should please a lot of people - well, everyone in Langley Mill that I know to be honest - because the people currently in the post office aren't exactly Mr and Mrs Popular [unlike the couple who run it when they're on holiday]. Of course, all the people I don't know in Langley Mill may have an entirely different opinion [this is allowed].

I haven't ventured in there myself since 2003, because I personally found them to be rude and patronising. I used to sell stuff on ebay, but gave it up simply because I couldn't face the 'well put it on there then!!!' when reaching out to put one of my parcels on the scales. Then being made to put on a load of stamps [which I licked, yes I know there's a wet sponge thing], while the queue behind me collectively sighed. After a few episodes of this licking and sticking he implied that the stamp gum was made from horse bits, this ensured that I turned a delicate shade of green - being a vegetarian - I vowed never to go back ... I haven't ... And I know I'm not alone.

I know this may seem a bit wussy and mardy of me, but I used to be very sensitive until I toughened up on attaining grumpy old woman status around the age of 48. Yeah, I don't believe me either, I'm still a wuss.

The grumpy old man however is completely oblivious to rudeness, he's the sort of person who announces [in the PO when being told what services they offer] that he won't pay his bills in there - thank you very much - because his pensions go straight into his [soon to be next door] bank account and he pays everything by direct debit including the TV licence. He is simply in there to post something ...

Petrol Station Progress

Asda's petrol station is well under way now - how do I know that? you may think, with me living the other side of Asda, miles away from the new petrol station.

Well, it's like this:

Last week [Tuesday 18th to be precise] the muck shifter lorries were here, this was a bit puzzling at first as they were empty and whizzing around Asda's back yard fairly frequently, so I thought - quite wrongly ... it does happen - that they'd come to remove Asda's muck from next to the railway lines that they'd dumped last year.

Then light began to dawn [after about 3 hours of this activity, I'm not always quick on the uptake]. They were just turning around in the yard to await their turn to be filled ... then, believe it or not this time the muck was taken away rather than being dumped.

Friday, we went to Asda and noticed that the roof of the old post office and bookies was sort of see through. I mentioned to the grumpy old man that maybe he could get a photo next time he came, which turned out to be too late, because there it was - gone.

And back to this week with a resounding THUD, s-h-a-k-e, drrrrr, grumble, squeak, clatter:

In the middle of my night ... it may have been 5.30am or it could have been 7.00ish, I'm not sure as my eyes were glued tightly shut [I didn't retire until 2.00am]. This thing turned up across the road on HH's bit. I did - quite wrongly again ... this is becoming an unfortunate habit - think it was Asda's delivery yard gates rattling and squeaking as they tend to do, especially at 1.00am Sunday nights, with 20 minutes of lorry reversing squawks ... because the delivery driver is a t**t. Followed by a security man standing at the gates, bellowing at the aforementioned driver [probably telling him he's a t**t], ensuring that I'd then be laid awake for the next two hours!

Ooooh, heck, I've lost me thread ... let's have a read at what I'm on about - dum de dum - Oh, yeah, got it ... This tanker thing turned up quite early this morning. It was unhitched from the bit that bought it and was then visited on a fairly regular and reminiscently noisy schedule by other bits of equipment.

I do hope Asda that you're going to send the window cleaner around again - where is he by the way? - because the amount of concrete/limecrete [whatever] dust your lot are kicking up is - cough, splutter - awful.

So there you have it.

I suppose now I've got to upload some boring photo's, I did venture out [as well as hanging through the bedroom window] with my camera, because I went to the recreation ground to get photos of the Waxwings that have taken up temporary residence there. I also took a few more shots of the rubbish that is being created by Asda shoppers [by the bridge, ugh!] and the wasteland that was created by Asda when they dumped their demolition waste by the railway.

And on a slightly more pleasant note, my GOM as been making enquiries - as is his wont - and he was told that Santander is going in Asda's unit 1, next to the post office ...

Update, 22nd February:

Work on the petrol station must be progressing well. Today the sand arrived to bury the underground tanks [I've been watching 'How it's made' and apparently it takes 3 months from start to finish].

Another Update, 19th March:

My GOM has been told that the petrol station should be open on 25th March. It will be open 24 hours, unattended, pay at the pump, no kiosk.

McDonalds In Langley Mill

Plans have just been submitted to AVBC for a fast food outlet at a former second hand car dealer site - 206 Station Road, Langley Mill. Although I say just, the application was registered on 24th January 2011, but dated 2010 - as can been seen by the application number [so must have been in the pipeline for a little while]. No, I'm not suggesting it was a BIG secret - seeing as it was already suspected by most people I know.

This proposal is for the land where CJ Car Sales was, on the new Asda roundabout. And no this isn't a rumour [this time], the application can be found at AVBC:

Planning Application AVA/2010/1227 - 206 Station Road Langley Mill Derbyshire NG16 4AE - a decision is expected on 21st March.

This should be an interesting addition to the already inadequate - and somewhat speedy [30mph ... my a**e] - Asda roundabout ...

Update 16th March: The application was withdrawn

Update 1st June: The application was resubmitted and subsequently refused planning permission

Pottery Lane And Another Moan About Slurry Corner

Notices went up Thursday morning from Derbyshire County Council to say an application had been received from Aldercar and Langley Mill Parish Council to turn Pottery Lane into a [proper] footpath. We've got until February 23rd to comment or object to it. I can't see that anyone will object, so this should mean it'll be getting tarted and lit up as promised by Asda.

The lady who put up the notices must have been aware of the state of the attractive 'slurry corner' at the top of Bridge Street [as she went that way], and will hopefully have told the council how disgusting it is. The only way she'll have failed to notice it was that the mud was frozen.

Later in the day I watched someone struggle through it with a wheelchair, I've seen other people actually carry their dogs so as not to get their feet mucky. Whoever designed the ramp didn't take into account that mud and water once in there, can't get out.

This mess will stay as it is or even get worse while ever Heanor Haulage continue to bring 5 flatbeds of railway tracks [mostly on concrete sleepers, so not exactly light] and other miscellaneous crap to store for a few days at a time, churning up their land and taking it over the footpath.

Yes, I know it's their land and the current restrictions on what they can do on it are practically zero [and to be honest they're not even annoying me], but something needs improving with their access, it's not exactly safe just opening 3 sets of gates [2 at the footpath] and hoping that no-one walks along the footpath at the same time as they want to cross it ...

UPDATE: Sunday 23rd January
11.20am: Asda sent two men to clear up slurry corner, WELL DONE ASDA ...

Asda Customer Services

Look, Asda in Langley Mill, it is time you got your prices sorted out once and for all. And your deplorable customer services want a good shaking up.

I was led to believe that in the shop environment the customer is always right, I don't mean you should take abuse or bad manners from anyone. But when someone returns with a till receipt that they've checked at home and found that they've been overcharged, at least have the good grace to believe them instead of making them feel like a time-wasting liar!

The latest discrepancy was on apples, my friend bought the ones on offer last week and ended up being overcharged by 74p. Yes, you may think it's a piddling amount but it all adds up. Just think about it, you go for a bag of apples, find that if you buy 2 bags [of certain apples] then you get them on offer. You probably wouldn't normally buy 2 bags of apples but the offer is too good to miss. Then you find later that you've paid full price for something you didn't really want or need and is even likely to get wasted.

And as the apples offer was no longer on and there were no records kept of old offers or prices [really!!??], my friend was made to feel stupid and at fault because she didn't check her receipt straight away. How many people stand there going through their receipt at the till?

The only person I know who can comfortably check their receipt and query it in situ is my grumpy old man, he did so with 2 pizzas and was refunded £1, but this meant a member of staff being called over, who then had to go back to the freezers and check the price of the pizzas then back to the checkout, then the woman on checkout had to faff about putting the £1 back on his debit card, taking 6 minutes overall. I couldn't do it, I'd blush horribly under the glares of the tutting, grumbling, moaning people in the queue behind me.

Come on Asda, you should be treating the people who pay your wages better than this ...

Chavsda

I think I'm being fair in saying that Langley Mill has long been regarded as a chav town, you only have to look at the recreation ground to see evidence of chavviness ... bottles, cans, rubbish strewn about.

Well I'm sad to say that our local Asda as been nicknamed Chavsda because of the local chav element hanging about at the Bridge Street entrance to the store. We live at the top of the street and can hear them shouting from here. Then there's the rubbish. To be fair Chavsda staff do clean it up and twice I've seen them picking litter amongst the greenery that has been planted on Bridge Street.

This morning, two of these litter pickers were busy doing their jobs when one of them looked up to 'slurry corner' and was heard to say 'That i'nt ours surely' whereupon they did an about turn back down to Asda.

They were probably right, it isn't actually Chavsda's bit, but it is mostly their rubbish that has been tossed there by youths and youthesses on their way to wherever they go upon getting bored with hanging about in the cold - it is then churned up by Heanor Haulage bringing in lots of flatbeds with railway tracks on concrete sleepers [I counted 5 arriving one day last week for storage then lost interest] - so cold that one particular chav was overheard to say that he needed a p**s then proudly announced that he'd had one up the back of the car he'd just passed.

I'm not ashamed to say that during the ten minutes or so of this activity, we didn't make any attempt to see what they were up to, we had enough trouble with louts when the bridge was here, they threw missiles [stones, eggs] at our windows and ourselves when we went out to investigate.

And on a different note ... I was on the street with my camera and tripod on the 8th of January, I had been taking photos of Jupiter and the moon and waiting for the International Space Station to pass over. A couple came up the street from Chavsda and he told her that there was someone with a camera. She was harping on about it all the rest of the way up the street and slurry corner about why I'd got a camera pointed at her and calling me a pervert. Unless she was standing on the moon [doubtful], my camera simply wasn't pointed at her.

Isn't it sad when I can't stand outside my own house pursuing one of my hobbies, it won't happen again, I daren't do it, I only go on the back yard now with my camera, I'll wait until we go to the caravan where all my neighbours are used to seeing me with my camera and telescope ...

Wot No 'Lectric?

We've just experienced our fourth power cut in two weeks. The last three being 3 hours on Friday, intermittently during last night and 3 hours again today.

This was starting to annoy my grumpy old man so he demanded that I find him the correct phone number for whoever was responsible for reducing our carbon footprint. This turned out to be Central Networks, who he duly phoned up and shouted at, not because he was being nasty, but because nearly all older people think this is the correct way to use a phone.

Anyway, grumpy being a bit deaf soon handed me the phone so the nice chap at the other end could explain what was what.

Of course I'd been ready to blame Asda for pinching our electricity seeing as we'd had no problems until they turned up, but it turned out to be Smiths Flour Mill that was causing the power cuts and Central Networks had to wait for a big fuse that kept tripping to finally blow [or summat, I was only half listening] to find out where the actual fault was.

I was assured that repairs were being carried out 'as we speak' [about 1.15pm] and we'd have our supply back on by 6.00pm [it was actually back for good by 3.30].  It's a good job it wasn't cold because without electric we've got no heating.

We endured another very brief game [thankfully] of I-spy to while away the time with no telly - we had to stop in [and behave, thanks for the alternative suggestions], as we were waiting for the window men to come to do a bit of window surgery] - we'd already I-spied most items in our front room during last Friday's power cut, made more interesting by playing in candle and torchlight [before nipping to Asda for a warm]. It took me ages to guess something beginning with T, it turned out to be the torch I was holding, ah well ...

A Crumbly Day Out And a Grumpy Old Man-nerism

We went out with another couple of grumpy crumblies into the deepest depths of Derbyshire yesterday. There was much swearing done by at least three of us, the fourth one was a little more restrained in her use of bad language ... being a lady. We had a fairly grumpy start to the day just getting out of our parking space at home. Some complete [here goes] t**t sped up the street, stopped in the middle of the road in front of us and then took 5 minutes to unload stuff before parking his car right next to where he'd stopped - moron.

There were many more occasions to vent our spleens during the day, to***rs pulling out of side roads in front of us. I swear our car - bright green that it is - must be wearing a cloak of invisibility at times. Two wa***rs in a Mercedes each, overtook us in a 40mph zone, the second - flat cap wearing - to**pot being quite scary. There was a car coming from the opposite direction and grumpy had just put his foot down as we were by now just entering a 50mph zone. He was so close when he passed us that he practically took a layer of paint off our car, then he cut straight back in front of us - sh**heap!

Er, where was I before my mini-rant? ... oh yes, our day out ...

Now don't misunderstand me, we may have been in Derbyshire but we weren't walking in 'them thar hills', apart from anything else - mud, excess of fresh air, being idle - I can't be doing with the walkers uniform of rucksack, big boots, clipboard, compass and map, socks over the trousers almost up to the armpits and in some extreme cases, silly hats.

No, we did the more sedate version of enjoying Derbyshire by first visiting Chatsworth Garden Centre - I have heard that there's a big house nearby but my grumpy old man manages to avoid visiting it [and paying] by telling me that it's shut and that he's already been and 'there were nowt worth looking at'.

We then went for a light lunch at Calver - and if you think that the older generation has even a fleeting impression of what consists of a light meal, forget it - it mostly involved huge quantities of fried stuff, just right for furring up the old arteries. This was followed by us waddling [very full] our way around Peak Village for a spot of shopping.

After we'd dropped our friends off we went to visit my sister and brother in law - yes, I am getting around to my grumpy old man's most recent misdemeanour, just bear with me a bit - we stayed there a while catching up with family stuff, then made our way home.

Later on, we were watching Shameless - after completely failing to work out whodunnit in Midsomer Murders, although I did guess the correct body count [I did much better the night before in Silent Witness, yes I know I'm rambling but who cares] - when grumpy, quite out of the blue announced that my sister's hair suited her fastened up, I agreed with him, saying how I keep telling her it looks like a thatch with all the straightening she does to it [we have curly hair that she won't admit to] when I suddenly realised what he'd said.

Anyway, if you've been paying attention or indeed been bored enough to have read some of my previous posts then you'll know by now that my GOM never looks at me ... 'What do you mean her hair suits her? You never say owt about my hair!'
'Your hair looks ok.'
'Oh yeah, so what have I done with my hair?' He looked over at me before smugly announcing that I'd done a plait thing.
'So Sherlock, when did I do this French plait?'
'This morning' ...

I had in fact done it only ten minutes before, because like most women I can't just sit and watch the telly, I have to be doing something with my hands [some people munch chocolates or chew their finger nails at this point]. I'd left my puzzle book upstairs, ditto my mobile phone, I couldn't be bothered to do any work and when I glanced over at my laptop, it glowered malevolently back at me with a 'don't you dare interfere with my buttons' kind of way, so I fiddled with my hair instead - as you do.

I made a brief attempt at getting all huffy about his latest faux pas but couldn't really be bothered. Today of course, he has given me a thorough inspection, spinning me around to check on hairstyle and colour of clothes awaiting testing later on.

Not on his nelly! I'll wait a few days before I test him again, it's much more fun ...

That's Asda Price!

I've already mentioned that Asda in Langley Mill can't get their computer and shelf prices to match, but I've had to write this [seeing as I find it so funny] because a friend of mine text me a few days ago to thank me for the warning to check her receipts.

She had been overcharged by £9.03 in one visit, £6.48 of that was for three 5p bags for life - making them £2.16 each.

The receipt was duly queried and a refund was made. Asda, in their generosity let my friends have the bags for life for free - gee whizz, it cost more than that in petrol to go back with the receipt.

I don't know how many of these bags they've sold for this price, but at this rate there must be more profit being made on these bags for life than supermarkets claim they're making whilst trying to make us green.

Hmm, I think I'll go and straighten my bags for life out a bit and put them on display instead of shoving them in a draw - seeing as they're so valuable ...

I Am Well ... Apparently

My grumpy old man was on the phone yesterday to his eldest daughter, she'd rung up to wish us 'a happy new year'. I admit to only half listening from the other room to the one-sided conversation as his phone calls tend to bore me being mostly of the 'what's the weather like there?' [half a mile away in some cases] variety.

However, my ears pricked up as I walked in and he was asking if everyone at the other end had escaped the dreaded flu that was doing the rounds ... 'Good, good', he continued ... 'yes we're both fine too.'

Oh, I obviously don't look as bad as I thought, I took a few paces back to the mirror to check on the vision of loveliness before me ... yes, just as I suspected, ultra-baggy eyes, a red nose Rudolph would be proud of. I checked my pockets - enough tissues [ok, loo-roll] to wallpaper the entire downstairs. I blew my nose ... lovely, then tested my cough - oooh, owww - my ribs ache from coughing [ok, I've been coughing for the last four weeks but it is much worse now].

'Ahem, I'm not well'. He carried on making small talk, probably about football. 'Oi, I said I'm not well.' This statement eventually filtered through to the GOM ...'Oh, you never said'.

I mean, EXCUSE ME, am I supposed to announce all my ailments? I know it's not really my style, I can't be doing with sick people, they should go away and keep quiet, only making a public appearance to announce that they're fine now thanks, and making no reference to whatever ailed them.

This attitude of mine [yes, I know I'm not nice ... but I am honest] is because I have no patience and minimal sympathy. My maternal grandmother used to tell me I'd got all the qualities to make a great nurse, she should know, she was horrible ... and a nurse. My paternal step-grandmother told me I'd make a terrible nurse, she should know, she was nice ... and a nurse. Yes, I was confused, but not confused enough to get a job where I had to have either patience or sympathy.

Equally, I don't expect too much sympathy in return, and so I forego the 'oooh I'm proper poorly, I am, please mop my fevered brow.' ... but come on, he didn't even notice?!!

'So, what did you think when I told you first thing yesterday morning that I was full of snot?'
His reply was ... well never mind what it was, but the implication was that I was short of something and it wasn't vitamin C. This resulted in me laughing my way out of bed and into the shower.

'And all the sneezing?'
'But you're always sneezing!'
'OK, I'll let you off with that one, what about my hardly there whispery voice?'
'Er, well, I thought you were a bit quiet.' ...
'I'VE HARDLY SLEPT FOR THE LAST TWO NIGHTS, YOU MORON!!!!'
'I didn't notice.'
'No you wouldn't, you were asleep! [cough, cough]'

You'd think I'd be used to him by now wouldn't you? I know for a fact that my GOM never looks at me [unless my cleavage is displayed]. I've put this to the test several times by standing behind him, quite late in the day so as to give him a fair chance and asking him what I'm wearing - stock answer: 'something blue' - as in denim ...

Check Your Receipt

Now you may think I'm nit-picking with that new shop over t'way - trust me I'm not, I'm quite impressed so far - but if you don't already check your till receipts then I think you should certainly check the ones you get from there.

It may just be teething problems, but my neighbour has had to go back four times having been overcharged, usually on buy 2 for ** offers or 'rollback' prices. We've had three discrepancies so far, the last one being just 19p so I didn't send grumpy back. Although, thinking about it, if they overcharged everyone by just 19p they would soon be quids in.

Asda, I think you may soon need 'trolley police', this morning there was one of your trolleys the other side of Queen Street recreation ground near Argyle Street, and this afternoon while I was waving the GOM off on one of his 'Santa' trips, a woman went slithering and sliding up the ramp to Pottery Lane. She was met there by a man on a bicycle who promptly took the crappy Asda bags off her trolley and transferred them to his superior Tesco bags. He then rode off with the shopping abandoning the trolley for anyone to play with - I may have shouted abuse through the window about 'twats dumping trolleys' at this point ... well, I think it was me - I don't know where the trolley is now and I care even less.

Of course, my Asda trolley is parked neatly on our back yard, ready to go back tomorrow ...

Update:

We've just been overcharged yet again on New Years eve.

Apples on offer at £1 a bag, the GOM paid £1.27. Asda, your computer does not match your shelf pricing ... please FIX IT!!

The Christmas Dinner List

We went to visit my mother at her care home the other teatime [just before I was treated to a night out by the grumpy old man], within seconds of walking into the room and her seeing who had just arrived to bore her now [father and sister already there], my mum promptly put down her sandwich, closed her eyes and fell asleep - I have this effect.

I'd barely dished out my Christmas cards when my sister handed me - no not a Christmas card, she is sticking to the 'no Christmas cards' rule suggested by me in one of my Scrooge moments last year - none other than a menu/list ...

'I've got fourteen for dinner, I've decided to delegate.' She announced, In essence this is a brilliant idea, there was the typed menu with names listed for who was in charge of preparing/cooking each item of food. I was down for carrots, sausage rolls, vol au vents and trifle [which is only carrots more than usual]. I noticed that my niece was down for crisps and nuts - very Denise Best [Royle Family].

My sister had wanted to cater for a large extended family Christmas even before they'd moved to their house just over a year ago. In fact the top of her list of requirements in her new-house-to-be, was a long room for the Christmas dinner table [yes I thought it was a bit 'Escape to the Country' where they always envisage Christmas with an open fire and huge alcove for the tree, blah blah]. Anyway, this didn't happen, she still ended up with two square-ish, albeit bigger and posher rooms.

The organiser of the event - aka my sister - informed us that the dining table is being moved into the lounge [supervised no doubt by said organiser]. If there isn't room for everyone [likely], the grumpy old man and myself - being the more peasanty relations - may end up sitting on a couple of beanbags in the garage, balancing a tray each on our knees [the garden furniture will already be in commission]. I may hold my carrots to ransom to prevent this.

'Do you want the carrots roasting? I'll do them with a smidgen of maple syrup, what about parsnips? ... oh Andrew's down for them oooh, also in maple syrup, great minds think alike' ... hang on a minute, where's your name? You're not down for anything!' ...

'Well I'm organising it all, I'll be there giving instructions, I can't be expected to do anything else'. This is the same sister who breaks up today for two weeks, the first week, ostensibly to 'organise Christmas'. Hmm, I'll let you know how it goes ...