Bodies, Bodies Everywhere & Mud!

Today has been a revelation, a learning curve and quite frankly a blast back from the past.

No, this isn’t purely with the drive from Norfolk over to Cumbria, (yes, I thought that this was going to happen tomorrow but it was pointed out to me yesterday that actually I had got my days muddled up and we were due to leave Norfolk today. That could have been interesting when the cleaning staff moved into the room to clear up and found us still in residence…..)Lady:Cleaning

No, the shock to my system was the stop at Wetherby Services for essential sustenance to be greeted by the fall out from The Leeds Festival. Yeap, there were bodies of varying levels of grubbiness all over the services, some flat-out asleep on the grass, others asleep in cars, others eyes open but clearly asleep wandering around the services in a state of dishevelment.


There was a mass of muddy wellies and walking boots abandoned outside the entrance – judging by the amount of discarded mud inside then I suspect that the management had drawn a halt to footwear inside. I really wish I had taken a photo of the amassed muddy footwear but my desperation to get to Costa got the better of me.

Inside there were muddy legs, muddy socks and bare feet. Dreadlocks were caked in earth and water and there was an earthy and outdoor smell to the area.

Oh how I wish I was 20 years younger again and then I can’t wait till the gruesome twosome are that little bit bigger and off we go to festivals. I was quite envious.

Anyway, one Costa trip completed, children refueled and off we set again to Cumbria in the naive hope that tomorrow we may get the keys to Chez EIOT and be able to take up residence.

I sincerely hope that will be the case – between the car being stacked to the gunnels, everything stacked up high in my friend’s shed and the imminent delivery of our ‘stuff’ from deep storage in Wiltshire we are seriously in trouble if there are any issues at this stage.


Then of course there is the BT man/woman who is due on Thursday……

I can only hope that as we have exchanged and that the solicitor has all our financial assets in her work bank account, that actually tomorrow morning will be routine….famous last words and all that.

Well I have to say that I am missing training. Yeap, five days in Norfolk has been fab but I need to get some exercise. the Great North Run is now less than two weeks away and while I am uncharacteristically laid back about the event, (gee if I can make it through London then surely the GNR can’t be that bad??? – yes I have done it before but was a few years younger…..), there is a nagging stopwatch ticking in my head which is constantly reminding me of the event.


Anyway, exercise out the lack of it is playing on my mind and so hey ho, hey ho its off running I go very soon……

So, today’s journey between Norfolk and Cumbria was anything other than routine. How could it have been with the gruesome twosome in tow? To be honest I am quite relieved that it wasn’t. Much as the landscape was stunning – especially the deeper into Cumbria we got, I am sick of driving at the moment and crave the solitude of Chez EIOT in the near future – unless that is overly optimistic and the mortgage company still class us as international money launderers, people traffickers, con artists or identity thieves and tomorrow we are greeted by yet another obstacle.

Anyway, midway through the trip as I struggled to concentrate on the legendary A1 I was rudely awakened by the small man cheering loudly, fist pumping and celebrating with an undue amount of enthusiasm.


No, it wasn’t that he had secretly bought a Lottery scratch card and won millions and was celebrating keeping his Mum and Dad in the style to which they would like to become accustomed, no – he had a ‘Jigglypuff’ hatch from an egg on Pokemon Go.

Now, after I had recomposed myself from nearly crashing the car on the A1 and all the horn blowing around us had stopped, I enquired as to what had happened and received a very convoluted answer that quite frankly I did not understand and involved ‘stardust’.

Anyway, my learning curve continues and quite frankly I am more than a little confused.

Right, time to eat, recharge and get ready for the challenges and adventures that tomorrow will undoubtedly bring.

As the BT man/woman is not due till Thursday, (assuming there are no more booby traps lying in wait for us, EIOT posts may be limited for a few more days……


Don’t forget to donate, this is all about raising money for Tommy’s

Donate at




Cold Water, Cold Water Everywhere…….

Apologies for the lack of an EIOT rambling last night, (if anybody actually noticed), – I was rather busy in the beer garden and priorities and all that!


Well, as I write this morning’s post I am fresh from yet another cold water shower. Yeap, the novelty of cold water from a powerful shower is keeping me very amused and occupied and quite frankly very clean.

Regular readers, (yes, those immortal words again), know how the lack of cold water back in the land of sand causes much angst and how my DIY attempts at a solution were thwarted by the small testosterone filled one.

Well, no such problem here – cold water is in abundance and the oh so powerful shower head deluges me on demand – luxury, and the icing on the cake is cold water toothbrushing, it just gets better and better.

Well, the news on the house front is that we have exchanged! Now, don’t get me wrong there were still a few worried phone calls after the archaic procedures of the mortgage company made life a lot harder all round than it ever should have been, but eventually the slightly hassled solicitor called to say that the deed had been done and we are all set for completion on Tuesday.

About blinkin’ time too!


The Pokemon taxi service continues to function well with several detours being made on any journey. Yesterday I was tricked into driving about 300yards to the local church where apparently there was a PokeStop with a Weedle. The gruesome twosome threw themselves out of the car with vigour and ran up the path. Now I am not sure what the ladies doing the flower arranging actually made of their visitors – human and virtual – and I suspect that the whole experience was as much of a learning curve for them as it has been for me.


So, off to the beach today. The 10th member of the group here is a 12 week old chocolate labrador granny magnet who is quite frankly far too cute for her own good. As all her injections are now done and complete an inaugural trip to the sea is essential and has to be done. Stand by for tales of mayhem, chaos, wet dog and rescuing innocent small children as their ice creams are whisked away from them faster than Usain Bolt running to a PokeGym.


Right, time to marshall the troops into some sort of order…..


Don’t forget to donate, this is all about raising money for Tommy’s

Donate at


Pokemon Go Taxi Driver…..

We are here, we have arrived and despite being really rather jaded we are in one piece.

Yeap, one diversion on our route to Norfolk via the solicitor’s in Swindon, as you do, and we have arrived.

I am midway down my first glass of vino and all is well with the world.


Now, despite my previous reservations about Pokemon, I have to admit that it is OK. The positives that I had heard about regarding the fact that Pokemon Go gets kids up and out is true and as I write the gruesome twosome are out and about in a small Norfolk village looking for Weedles, Rattatas, Dragonairs, Magikarps, Pidgeottos, Seels and Picichuas. I have today learnt about levelling up, Poke eggs, Poke Stops and Poke Balls, (!) among other things – it has been quite an enlightening sort of day today.

I have also find myself offering some sort of Pokemon taxi service. As an add-on to the detour to the solicitors in Swindon I took the opportunity of doing a few errands in town as having been posted not far away several times, Swindon was a regular haunt – but I don’t admit to that in polite company – and I know the town reasonably well.


So, after doing the errands suddenly I found myself at the behest of the gruesome twosome who asked me to ‘just go up there’ or ‘just turn left here’ as apparently there was some sort of Pokemon Go goldmine located close by.

I have to admit that there was a certain level of fun associated with this and while being completely confused with what I was doing I was actually quite entertained by the experience.

Anyway, once I realised that actually if I submitted to every request for a detour to collect a Pidgeottos or something similar then quite frankly we would make it up to Norfolk in time for Christmas and in all honesty my desire for a decent glass of vino out ranked any desire to track down the world’s rarest Pokemon.


Yes, thanks to the fact that I knew I was driving once I hit the green, green grass of home and also that I fell asleep as soon as my butt hit the cramped seat of the BA big bird, not a drop of anything alcoholic passed my lips on the flight back to Blighty. In fact, absolutely nothing passed my lips on the flight back to Blighty.

Thanks to the mortgage chaos and being behind the line in my departure to the UK prep, I passed completely on anything to eat yesterday evening and had decided that a trip to Duty Free to buy a bag of cashew nuts would suffice.

Little did I know that Duty Free in Terminal 1 is closed for refurbishment. Now, I ought to explain that the refurb of Terminal 1 has been ongoing for around 2-3 years and instead of just one massive refurb they just close various portions for a few weeks and then move onto the next bit. It really is a bit like painting the Forth Road Bridge.

Never mind I thought to myself as my stomach rumbled loudly, I will get something to eat on board. Wrong! BA have changed their food policy and instead of the usual anaemic looking Gluten Free sandwich shortly after take off, (which quite frankly I would have devoured), they have replaced it with cupcakes. However, when I declined the cupcake and asked for the Gluten Free alternative I was met with blank faces as there was no alternative.

The crew did suggest I fill in a feedback form but past experience shows that actually feedback forms with BA are just used as either toilet paper or at best coffee mats.

They did search around and actually through their own initiative come up with an alternative – a Saudi pot of low-fat natural yogurt. That really did not quite fit the bill and quite frankly despite being ravenous I would had to have been completely emaciated to have consumed that.

So, I had to hang on till 90 mins before Heathrow when the usual Gluten Free option of an anaemic looking omelette accompanied by three soggy potato wedges and one strand of water ladden asparagus was dished up before me.

Quite frankly I had a choice, either I eat that or I eat one of the gruesome twosome. As eating an anaemic omelette was easier to explain to himself than eating one of his offspring I opted for the former rather than the latter.

Needless to say a Costa trip was a high priority on leaving the airport.


Right, the vino is taking effect and that combined with a less than full night sleep in the company of BA common sense dictates that tonight’s blog will be brief.

If you are wondering, (and not completely bored to tears), by the mortgage fiasco the you will be pleased to hear that by the skin of our teeth at this point in time we are on course to exchange tomorrow and complete on Tuesday.

The beleaguered mortgage advisor and solicitor are reaching for the wine bottles as I write, the mortgage companies are inking their quills and the good Doc has gone to ground for fear of her professional reputation.

We are naively optimistic that we may exchange tomorrow….

Watch this space….


Don’t forget to donate, this is all about raising money for Tommy’s

Donate at





On Off, On Off & Pokemon Blinder….

Well it’s been on off, on off, on off all day – in fact it has been on off more times than a whores draws. Yeap, you guessed it I am talking about the house purchase that has been over the course of the day on, off, hanging in the balance, smashed to smithereens and resurrected.

Yeap today there have been more left-sided assaults than at a Liverpool v Crystal Palace football match and more heroic saves on the part of the estate agent, solicitor and beleaguered mortgage advisor as we were putting on our walking boots and preparing to march away with vigour and more than a little stroppiness.


Anyway, at the close of play in the UK today the overnight score ready for resumption of play tomorrow is mortgage offer made, all paperwork signed and scanned back to the solicitor, paperwork in my bag ready for a mad dash over from Heathrow to Swindon to present the original documents in person to the solicitor and vendors removing goods over the weekend.


Now let’s not get too excited about this, over the course of today we have had three different completion dates and quite frankly who knows what tomorrow may bring. However, all being well and BA permitting, (let’s not take anything for granted here, after all it is BA), I will be in good old Blighty and able to deal with things a lot more easily. That may or may not be a good thing, yes I will be a lot more contactable in theory, but I will also be a lot closer for purposes of tantrums.

So here I sit with the gruesome twosome waiting patiently for the BA big bird i watch the world pass by and take up one of my favourite pastimes in such situations – people watching.

I regret to say to say that so far there is little to report. The BA big bird has landed and loads of adventurous people of numerous different nationalities have trooped past us with varying levels of enthusiasm and equal measures of weariness.


The flight crew have yet to appear, that is always an interesting one as somehow we never seem to get too many of the flight crews of the type that brought our heroic GB Team back from Rio and we certainly rarely get a state of the art plane of that type either.

its amazing what the presence of a few camera crews can do.

No, the crews and planes that do the Riyadh – London and vice versa trips are not the types who overflow with an abundance of enthusiasm and yes that applies to the planes as well.

Yes, occasionally there are exceptions….., however as tonight’s inbound crew have just trooped past us I suspect that tonight is not one of those times. Our crew will troop back past us soon, let’s see what our flight has to offer.


Anyway, you will be relieved to hear that amid all the stress, chaos and general unpredictability of today the small man I made it to the gym. No swimming though – that would have been a step too far today.

Now the small man got me hook, line, sinker and copy of angling times today. Yeap, he got me a corker.

The gruesome twosome have been wittering on for weeks about the phenomena that is ‘Pokemon Go’ and have     been mithering for the app.


Being the mean, rotten, miserable and neglectful mother that I am I gave resolutely refused. After all, in their eyes, I love saying ‘no’ and depriving them of their basic human rights.

Then there was today and a small trickster type man.

The small man has discovered an old phone lurking deep in a drawer, has charged it up and has claimed it for his own. For my part I have let him use it but it most certainly is not his.

This morning he was trying to load some apps that we already have from our family iTunes account and as I was busy trying to get ready for the BA big bird I absentmindedly tapped in my iTunes password. He did seem inappropriately chuffed about this, only to have his balloon burst when it became clear I had misspelt the password and a box appeared to tell me do with the app underneath.

Yeap, you have guessed it, he had tried and failed to get me to authorise ‘Pokemn Go’

Ten out of ten for ingenuity, zero out of ten for execution.


Anyway, that was that – or so I assumed.

Now the small man is not daft and at the height of the house buying melee this afternoon when emails were leaping forth from everybody all at once and stress levels were high, the small man repeated the trick and by golly by gosh I fell for it – my mind was elsewhere, somewhere in a conversation with the solicitor I seem to recall.

I knew nothing of this until amid the house buying emails one appeared telling me that in order for my child to create a Pokemon account, I had to create one first.


Now it was one of those situations when you don’t actually know how to react. Himself was with me as the truth presented itself and we were torn between mild annoyance and general respect for the nerve and ingenuity.


Anyway, the upshot is that the gruesome twosome now have the damned app and are currently patrolling the Terminal 1 departures area looking for the little critters.

Right, our flight crew must be inbound and full of vigour and enthusiasm. So I had better get a move on and finish this post.

But what I hear you cry of the beleaguered mortgage advisor? Well, I suspect she is considering a career change, one that will mean living on a remote island with a few cows for company, no phones, no mortgage companies certainly no expats, she will however have an endless supply of  quality alcohol. I am sure I will speak to her tomorrow and I will investigate her current state of mind….


Don’t forget to donate, this is all about raising money for Tommy’s

Donate at


I Needed Wing Mirrors To See That One Coming……..

Well, I would normally say no news is good news but in the case of the mortgage company no news usually means that they are concocting another random obstacle in the SAS standard assault course which is our pursuit of buying a house as expats in post Brexit vote England.


Knowing that the good Doc is an absolute dude and is more reliable than a pair of Marks and Spencer’s knickers I have no doubt that true to her word she was at the Medical Centre as promised at 0730 to pander to the latest random request. I would say that I would have met her there but that would have suggested that I did not trust her, (heaven forbid, this lady is way above that, she is a living legend on our compound), and in any case I overslept and didn’t wake up until 0900. At this point chaos erupted thanks to the fact I am so far behind the line with my pre BA big bird preparation.


So, with my apparent lack of planning and preparation today was decreed a rest day from the gym. Yeap it is a sad, sad day but sometimes needs must and to be honest having spent the time putting the lounge back together after several weeks of children slobbing was not far off a work out in its own right.

The small man was chilled about a rest day, he disappeared off to see one of his buddies instead and so was happy.

The reaction of the strawberry blond hand grenade to the enormous lounge clear up was, well, unique.

Singularly unimpressed by the fact that her squalid den of mess was being dismantled she begrudgingly made a token gesture of putting away a hand full of odds and sods before resuming her position on the couch.


That was short-lived as the clear up meant her having to relocate on several occasions and with much moaning around the lounge.

Eventually she positioned herself on the floor, iPad on the coffee table, earphones inserted as the vacuum liberated the carpet from crumbs, elastic bands, coloured pencils, Lego and loom bands. Yeap, no mercy was shown.


At this point the coffee table had to be moved and as I pulled it out of the way, basic laws of physics meant that the iPad went too.

Then something miraculous happened. As the table and iPad were moved to defumigate the carpet beneath, I swear that the hand grenade levitated off the floor by several centimetres, (or a couple of inches for the fans of imperial), and followed the table effortlessly in a supernatural sort of way.

Her eyes did not leave the screen and she relocated with the coffee table across the lounge.

After vacuuming the procedure was reversed and there was a repeat procedure.


It was all quite incredible and to be honest pretty surreal.

She seemed blissfully unaware of the events.

So, fast forward a few hours as my lunchtime scrubbing of today’s blog was brought to a dramatic halt by the arrival of a ravenous small man.

So here we are several hours later. The good news is that the wheels of the mortgage company are drifting into motion and we do seem to be crawling forward – a very slow crawl, but we are marginally further forwards then we were this time yesterday. The email from the good Doc has been received and we are told that the mortgage offer is imminent.

Now for the bad news. Are you ready for this. It is a cracker, an absolute gem, a peach and has come from so far off the left side quite frankly we would have to be wearing wing mirrors to see it coming.


So, planned completion on Friday – a fact that has been known and publicised for weeks, if not months. But despite this the sellers have completely neglected to empty their possessions out of the house. Yes, you read that right, they have not shifted the items they have left in there out and are now asking to delay completion till the first week of September.

Classic, absolutely classic.

They are citing the fact that they now live in Scotland as a problem, get real muppets – we live in Saudi Arabia and we have got ourselves sorted!


So, imagine a bottle of lemonade, (us and in particular me), that has been gently agitated for several weeks by a mischievous child, (the mortgage company). The pressure in the lemonade has been building but it has managed to control itself and not explode. Suddenly the glass for the lemonade, (solicitor), comes along and drops today’s bombshell while the ice and lemon, (mortgage advisor), is away from the freezer, (office).

Yes, the bottle has exploded, the glass has taken the majority of the fall out, (diplomatically I hasten to add as she is on our side and I am english after all), with a firm and unequivocal email that I hope she forward onto the seller’s solicitor. The ice and lemon had not seen the email but has had a full exasperated update from on the phone, (again diplomatically as she too is on our side), and has suffered the after-shocks.

I am just wondering if actually our long-suffering mortgage advisor was actually out of the office en route to or from the Tescos wine aisle – it wouldn’t surprise me and quite frankly I wouldn’t blame her.

So there we have it – shift your stuff or forget it.

Oh I hope that BA big bird has plenty in the drinks trolley tomorrow night! Oh bugger, I can’t even do that, I am driving once I get to London…………….nnnnnnnooooooooooooooooo


I would say my usual ‘Laters!’, but to be honest with my current state of mind I am not sure there will be a ‘Laters’. I wonder if the good Doc has some very strong tablets in the pharmacy……

Don’t forget to donate, this is all about raising money for Tommy’s

Donate at




Too Long In Saudi, Novinophobia & Flowers Inbound……

Oh, it is the little things that are keeping me sane at the moment amid mortgage chaos and planning to kidnap the BT engineer.


It suddenly struck me late last night that I made a very large blunder yesterday in that I repeatedly referred to the BT engineer as a ‘he’. Well that was very unPC of me and I apologise. These days I am sure there are many female BT engineers. I think I have been in Saudi for too long – it is rubbing off on me.

After a morning in the gym with the small man today I retreated to the epicentre of our world – King Pin for a quiet drink. The small man promptly met up with one of his buddies and disappeared off so I had some peace and quiet.

So, to my amusement as I was sitting pondering life and the universe while stinking everybody out with my post gym sports kit, I made a point of making a nuisance of myself with the strawberry blond hand grenade.


One of my major gripes over the summer had been the amount of time the strawberry blond hand grenade spends on her iPad. Given a chance she would spend every waking hour staring at it, watching films and playing games.

In an attempt to curb this ridiculous and annoying habit, at the beginning of the holiday I installed a fab app on my phone and her iPad called ‘OurPact’ which lets me control her access to her iPad. When I allow access via my phone then her iPad is as normal, when I don’t (for example when she is a stroppy hand grenade or the time schedules I set kick in), then her iPad reverts back to being an iPad fresh from the shop, all her apps, films and games just vanish into thin air – puff, they are gone until I allow access again…..


This causes some angst to the strawberry blond one, but hey – get used to it!

You might just have guessed where I am going with this – especially when I say that you don’t have to be on the same WIFI network or phone network to make it work.

So, in light of the hand grenade’s apathy towards going to the gym – in fact anything that means getting up off the settee I had a bit of fun this morning.

Yeap, as I sat here watching the world go by, I found my fingers unconsciously going towards the ‘OurPact” app on my phone and somehow ‘catching’ the block and allow buttons randomly.

As I did this I just can’t help laughing and imagining what is happening at home.

Needless to say I tried to deny all knowledge of any events when I got home and I tried the line ‘What? Your iPad kept going on and off? No way, must be a glitch……’, but I just could not keep a straight face and to be honest the strop that greeted me just made me laugh even more……

The more I tried not to laugh, the more I could't help it...

The more I tried not to laugh, the more I couldn’t help it…

I have to say that there appears to be an air of excitement, relief and general buoyancy around the compound at the moment and I am in no doubt that this is entirely due to the fact that we are now minus six days to back to school. Yeap, there is a palpable sense of anticipation around all the mums at the moment, the sense of desperation around them is dissolving and a sense of impending freedom and relief.

Well, you will not be surprised or astounded to hear that no notable progress has been made in my pre BA big bird preparation today. Pretty much a big zilch.

Between the gym, swimming, doing errands, causing remote iPad annoyance to the hand grenade, procrastination and sorting out yet more issues surrounding the mortgage debacle, (I will move onto that in a moment – don’t worry), the day seems to have passed me by somewhat and it is now almost time for bed.

The cases remain in a state of flux but on the plus side himself did sort out my visa today, a mere 48 hours before departure…….


So, onto the mortgage debacle. Well, after being vaguely optimistic that today was the day that it would all be over, alas no. Instead more hassle. You will I am sure recall the fiasco of last week when the oh so patient good Doc sat and wrote ‘War & Peace’ on our behalf, signing numerous sheets with her name and qualifications before stamping them with her ‘professional’ stamp, (Mortgage Manyana Mode). I am so grateful to her for her efforts last week. So as you can imagine my heart sank today when the mortgage company threw another spanner in the works which dictated in so uncertain terms that I had to darken her doorstep once more and ask for yet another favour.

Yeap, today the mortgage company decided that actually the good Doc’s name, GMC number, signature, qualifications and official stamp were not good enough. No, they are still convinced that we are international fraudsters, money launderers, people traffickers or on the run. So today they decided that they simply had to email the good Doc at work so that they could confirm that she does exist and is not a figment of our imagination, (if she is a figment of our imagination then I would love to know who it is who has been ferreting about at my nether regions for my last two girly check ups, that is quite alarming really…..)

So, they decided that her personal email address and mobile number was not good enough and we had to submit those for the Medical Centre so that they could email and prove that she is who we say she is.

Now to cut a very long and stressful story short, the good Doc is still on holiday at the moment. She has two children and so does not work in the holidays.

But as the mortgage company will only accept the email from the Medical Centre address tonight I have had to ask the good Doc if she will go into work to prove her existence to the mortgage company.

I have a premonition that an enormous bunch of flowers will be delivered to the good Doc sometime tomorrow……

Anyway, today there has been several episodes of whingeing to the long-suffering mortgage advisor and actually I have to say that I suspect that the whole farcical situation has ground her don as she is nowhere near as enthusiastic about life as she usually is. I did actually point out how there isn’t possibly anything else that the mortgage company could want just before I asked her to continue with her secondary role of proxy wine drinker on my behalf.

It was at the point that she dropped the bombshell. Yeap, it was at this point in the conversation that she said that she is actually running out of wine.


I cannot begin to explain the devastation that I felt at this statement. I was shocked, stunned and panicked by this bolt out of the blue. Did she not realise the importance of her role and had let her wine stocks run low? Does she not realise that as she sips on a nice Chardonnay back in Blighty I can virtually taste it as I sip on my vimto and yes it does make life just a tad less stressful at the moment?

Well anyway, I think the terror in my voice jolted her and she did say that she was off to Tesco’s to restock – now that’s more like it!, (sorry mortgage advisor, I know you have started reading the blog).

The small man has continued with his insensitive and cavalier attitude towards my now defunct DIY cold water shower kit. Yeap, the very, very large bag of ice in the freezer is causing some fascination for the small man and he has today taken to ice baths. Yeap, not only is he using my ice supply which I bought primarily for my shower kit, but he is using it in the bath with the shower that used to have the cold water kit above it.

Yes, not one but two insults………double whammy……I am not impressed.


Well still no confirmed sightings of Gordon – I guess the writing is on the wall there. I am however quite relieved to report that I have also not seen the YLOTH and so have not been chastised for any misdemeanour that I may or may not deserve. I am reasonably optimistic that next time I do see the young lady in question our recent wrangle may be forgotten.

So best I shuffle off and make sure that when I do finally get round to packing there are plenty of warm clothes in the cases. Cumbria is a bit nippy at the best of times and a cardboard box in a field may just be a tad frosty. Oh well, at least we will have the BT Engineer for warmth, perhaps I ought to kidnap the Rayburn man, (or woman), as well just for an extra source of heat.


Don’t forget to donate, this is all about raising money for Tommy’s

Donate at





Taking The BT Man Hostage……

Its been a funny sort of day…….actually lets rephrase that, it has actually been plain odd.

Today I have been a Spinning® Instructor, diplomat, Mum, gym buddy, cook, sellotape removal expert, saleswoman, friend and counsellor. I am also about to be a volcanic eruption if the chaos that is flaring up upstairs as I write does not settle down soon.


Yes, today has been, well, odd.

The day started off quite normally really – until I woke up at which point panic mode set in. Yeap, I suddenly realised that I had just four days before the gruesome twosome and I climb aboard the British Airways big bird, (for new readers of the blog please do not assume that is some sort of derogatory comment about BA air hostesses, this is how I routinely refer to the aeroplanes – gee I love BA! ??) and quite frankly I am nowhere near the point that I should be at minus four days to departure.

While on the one hand the expat life has taught me over the years that quite frankly all you need with you to travel is a valid passport, credit card and a packet of Dioralyte somehow much more seems to make it into my bag and needless to say all those extras are nowhere near ready to go and are not even in the pipeline.

A major part of my panic this morning revolved around the house and mortgage debacle which is of course ongoing. Yeap, no news but let’s be honest about this it would have been completely unreasonable of us to expect any news, it is after all the weekend in England and while the mortgage company expect us to jump through hoops out of hours we could not possibly expect anything from them.

But the lack of any communication from the mortgage company was not the root cause of my panic, no the cause was the fact that there are certain arrangements that I have made that, or not made as the case may be, are actually dependent on us having ownership of the house.

Firstly there is the fact that I have made no other accommodation arrangements and so the possibility of being homeless and scrounging cardboard boxes from the emporium that is Budgens is a very real possibility.


The next problem is that I have the obligatory Sainsburys order booked for the new house, (Budgens do not deliver – alas), and boy is it a big order. Regular readers will know the relevance of a Sainsbury’s order and the absolute excitement it brings. It suggests normality, (whatever that is), and is a major step which subconsciously means ‘get the passports out, we are on our way’. Anyway, the size of this Sainsbury’s order may well mean that the cardboard boxes will be even more congested by bulk orders of provisions – in particular Bombay Sapphire, no I am not cancelling the order.

Thirdly, over the few days from the optimistic completion day I have several pretty much essential things booked – everything from the Rayburn man to service and light the monster that sits in the kitchen, the oil man to deliver the fuel so that the Rayburn man can light the monster, the BT man so that we can actually be in touch with the world, (we really are in the middle of nowhere and mobile phone signals are non-existent) and the removals company who are bringing all our long-lost possessions out of deep storage down south for us to reunited with up north. That said, everything has been in storage for so long that neither of us can actually remember what is in there – pretty ironic actually as when we packed it all up everything was essential and nothing could be lived without, well we have done OK without it all over the last five years.


Oh well, eBay will be busy.

Anyway, rearranging any of these things will be a pain – especially BT who will claim they are so busy that it will be another three weeks before they can come back.


So, here is a heavy felt plea from me to all the EIOT readers out there. It is common knowledge that I am one of the most nonreligious people around, but please, please, please can everybody do a dance of hope to whatever forces are out there and in particular to the forces that control mortgage companies and conveyancing solicitors. That said our solicitor is actually a dude and has done all our conveyancing for us over the years and is very familiar with what is going on – that’s me trying to keep on the right side of her on the off chance that she reads the blog by the way.

Please can you all bow down and pay homage to the powers that have influence and control over these people in the hope that we may actually complete on the house purchase on Friday.

If you need incentive for this then please imagine me and the children shivering in cardboard boxes in the middle of remote Cumbrian fields, with empty sheep feed buckets full of heating oil around us and bags of Sainsbury’s shopping. We will be  trying to keep the attention of the BT and Rayburn men until we get the keys because quite frankly it would be weeks before they can come back and if that fails we will just take them hostage in the barn……To be honest I suspect that the small man would enjoy the whole adventure, the strawberry blond hand grenade would just be teenagerish and I would just have a straw straight into the bottle of Bombay Sapphire.


So, that was all largely the cause of my morning panic. By lunchtime I had largely moved on from all out panic to blind resignation and by mid afternoon I was in couldn’t care less mode. That is roughly where I am now as regards our looming logistical issues in the UK.

So among my full and varied day there have been numerous other events, the majority of which I will not bore you with. However, a couple are worthy of comment.

Firstly, following on from yesterday’s post – Out Of The Mouths of Babes…. – that the YLOTH, (click on the link to find out what the heck I am on about), is actually three and not four as stated. Normally I would not mention this minor error, (well minor in my opinion), but as the YLOTH’s mum is a fully fledged, grown up, experienced lawyer who may well take me to court and sue me for everything I have got, or more to the point haven’t got, on the grounds of misrepresentation of the truth or something legal like that, I felt the need to clarify the situation.

I have not seen the YLOTH today, to be honest I am quite scared of her now – she was particularly ferocious on the phone and when those hands went towards her hips in a ‘don’t you go messing with me’ fashion yesterday I was concerned for my safety – especially as at that point we had not actually collected our new Wills from her mum and the future prosperity of our off spring was at stake.

I think this ought to read 'appreciate' life again - i.e . you survived.....

I think this ought to read ‘appreciate’ life again – i.e . you survived…..

Another event which occurred today greeted me as I walked through the front door after one of my many errands around the compound. Now I am sure that the majority of the houses everywhere in the world where it is the school summer holidays are in the same state as our – absolute chaos and a disaster zone. I have stopped talking about Gordon the Gecko as quite frankly it is hard to tell if he is in hiding, dead or missing in action somewhere in the lounge.

As per my state of mind with regard to the house purchase, I have also reached the stage of couldn’t care less with the state of this house.

So, I was pretty much unfazed when I walked through the front door earlier to hear a muffled sort of noise. I wasn’t too worried so disappeared into the kitchen to dump my bag before walking back into the lounge.

There it greeted me, yes there I discovered my son. Bound and gagged by his sister with sellotape. Not just a bit of sellotape but a LOT of sellotape. Over his mouth and hands tightly bound behind his back.

Now I am not sure what had prompted this extreme reaction from the hand grenade but it was quite impressive.

I hasten to add that he was not at all upset by the experience and once he had been rescued from his sticky situation he found it quite hilarious.


….including little brothers….

I on the other hand am still finding chunks of sellotape where quite frankly there should not be sellotape around the place.

The third happening is once again closely linked to the small man.

I am sure you will recall the events of a couple of weeks ago when the small testosterone filled one took it upon himself to dismantle my DIY cold water shower attachment and leave it unceremoniously strewn over the bathroom floor – Unbelievable…Simply Unbelievable…., (click on the link if a reminder to the whole sordid affair should be needed).

Well, he has added insult to injury. Nothing too major, just enough to partially reopen the old wound.

Needless to say the small man spends a con
siderable amount of time foraging for food and in doing so he was rummaging in the freezer.

Everything went quiet during his search and he reappeared empty handed and puzzled. The question that stumbled out of his mouth was, ‘Mum, why is there a really, really big bag full of ice in the freezer?’

At this point I despatched a Paddington Bear stare and murmured through gritted teeth, ‘that was my ice for my DIY cold water shower attachment – you know the one that YOU took down because you decided you didn’t like it…..’ and at the sometime applied a sharp tap behind his ear.Paddington:Bear

Well, all of a sudden the small man had an air of guilt – it was fleeting and was gone as quickly as it came, but it was there.

Then tonight he asked if he could use the ice to have an ice bath ’cause it really is hot at the moment Mum and there is no cold water’ – cheeky so and so.

Right, it has gone quiet upstairs so that means that either the hand grenade has wrapped her brother up in copious amounts of sellotape again, the air-conditioning has broken down and they have actually melted or perhaps they are behaving like normal children, reading books and getting ready to go to sleep – yeah, right!

Best I go and find out what’s going on!

This has no relevance to tonight's blog - but I like it! It is also why I do not do 'Pokemon Go'

This has no relevance to tonight’s blog – but I like it, so it is here. This is why I do not do ‘Pokemon Go’


Don’t forget to donate, this is all about raising money for Tommy’s

Donate at


Out Of The Mouths Of Babes……???

Well what a day – so far that is, the day is far from over.

Yeap, so far today we have shifted the Spinning® bikes to various corners of the compound and there are more to be moved later today.

If you have never tried to move a Spinning® bike, then take my word for it they are heavy. The flywheel is weighted for a reason and carrying numerous bikes up and down stairs and in and out of cars is darned hard-work – especially in 45˚ heat.

Anyway, halfway there – the rest will be moved later today, stand by for moaning, dehydration, slipped discs and a trip to the fab Doc to be put back together again.

No news from the beleaguered mortgage advisor today, I suspect that her secondary duty of being my proxy, stress relieving alcohol drinker may have taken its toll and she is spending her Saturday morning sleeping off my excesses of the night before.

We are still blindly optimistic that the deal will finally be done next Friday, I just wish that the Building Society would be of the same opinion and stop with the continuous flow of random and quite frankly illogical questions that continue to flow.

So, to the high spot of my week so far, the happening that occurred this morning that not only made me laugh out loud at the time but that has repeatedly brought a smile to my face every time I have thought of it over the course of the day.


On the compound we have spouses of the folks who are employed to be here who have a multitude of useful skills, professions and qualifications and to be honest it is not very often that we draw a blank on a required profession.

A prime example if the good Doc who while fulfilling an essential role in patiently sorting out our various aches, pains, illnesses, hypochondria and looking into our various orifices in the Medical Centre, (as well as completing all the incredibly boring paperwork that has been demanded by the building society), is actually here primarily as the wife of the Aviation Doc who deals with the aches and pains of a lot of the guys at work.

Now another example is the compound’s own on-site lawyer. Yeap, this lady is here with her husband and has for now put her legal life on hold to be wife and mum. However, her time is not wasted and we keep her busy with ad-hoc legal advice and rewriting of Wills.


So, this morning was the morning for us to finally collect our new Wills, (she had only been reminding me that they were ready for 6 months and I had singularly failed to collect them that time). However, not one to miss an opportunity, I decided I would ask her to witness the Mortgage Deed – after all not even the building society could question a fully fledged, grown up, experienced lawyer with all her letters after her name – could they?

I knew that our resident, on site legal expert had come back from the UK this week and assumed that the quick trip between here and the UK would not have taken its toll and even if it had then the two days since coming back would have led to a full recovery.


So, after having checked the clock, it was 0922 exactly, I picked up the phone to call our friendly lawyer to ask for her help.

Now our on site legal expert has two children, one young man aged roughly 11 or 12 and one young lady aged 4.

So, the conversation went something along the lines of:

Telephone ringing, to be answered by the young lady of the house, (YLOTH).

YLOTH: ‘Hello’
Me: ‘Hi, Can I talk to your Mum please?’
Silence from the YLOTH
Me: ‘Is your Mum there?’

At this point there was some considerable spluttering on the other end of the phone as numerous words were clearly flooding into the head of the YLOTH and were fighting hard for poll position to burst out. When they did this is what greeted me.

YLOTH: ‘But it is the middle of the night, go back to bed!’


I was slightly taken aback by this – even to the point of actually looking at the clock to check that I hadn’t inadvertently dropped a clanger on the time of day front.

Me: ‘But its twenty past nine’

At this point there was considerable shuffling on the phone and I was convinced that the YLOTH was about to hang up on me.

Now I don’t know if the handset was hurtling towards the phone base or not, but it appeared to have been snatched out of the YLOTH’s hand as her mum clearly lunged across the room in a rugby tackle type fashion in an attempt to rescue the situation.

Within a couple of minutes I had regained my composure and stopped laughing down the phone and had arranged to collect the Wills and for her to witness the document.

So, fast forward an hour or so as we arrived on the doorstep and rang the bell.

Yes, the door was opened by the YLOTH. Now, I politely asked if Mum was there and suggested, in a very tongue in cheek fashion, that it was late morning and I was not going back to bed.

No you know those quizzical looks that come across the faces of very small children when they are thinking about something – well I got one of those.

A frown came over her face and I swear that the arms were heading onto the hips in a teenager, stroppy attitude sort of way, (very similar to the daily occurrence from the strawberry blond hand grenade), but at the last moment they went into Adele mid song hand gesture mode and as the YLOTH launched forth in a speech about being four and how big she is for that age.

during the 54th annual Grammy Awards on Sunday, Feb. 12, 2012 in Los Angeles. (AP Photo/Matt Sayles)

It was at this point that her Dad lunged in a rugby type fashion to rescue us from the conversation.

Despite laughing loudly, we finally got as far as getting the Wills and getting the Deed signed.

Never before has I been so entertained in the humdrum world of Wills and Mortgage Deeds.

Right, thanks to the mammoth job which is shifting Spinning® bikes today has been declared a rest day and the small man and I will be back at the gym tomorrow – not many days now to running in the Cumbrian countryside small man, we might be homeless but at least we will be able to run….



Don’t forget to donate, this is all about raising money for Tommy’s

Donate at









Flat Gordon, & Mortgage ‘Manyana’ Mode

Well, I have done the ironing. Not a major revelation I know but in doing the ironing I must report that there was no sign of Gordon.



Now, I don’t know if that is a good or bad thing. At first glance it could mean that actually Gordon has not made it into the washing machine, or it could mean that actually he has and is lurking in a geckoish, Comfort soft and decomposing sort of way in a sock or pair of pants. Now that could be interesting if the clothes in question belong to either of the gruesome twosome….

Alternatively, his Comfort soft body may have been inside a garment that has been ironed and put away and not only is he now a decomposing, Comfort soft gecko but he is now ironed flat – just to add insult to injury.

Flat Stanley has got nothing on us, we could have Flat Gordon the Gecko who could also travel the world as many of the clothes that were ironed today will be heading to the UK next week for Hajj.


This could develop into something big as we could post around the world a genuine Comfort soft, ironed flat and decomposing gecko. I might have to look into this – could be a business opportunity.

Now, onto other matters.

Well, no news on the mortgage fiasco. The beleaguered mortgage advisor is as I write banging on doors in the hope that the deadline of a week today can be met. She is also struggling under the responsibility of a secondary role I have given her – that of proxy wine drinker.


Yeap, in the absence of alcohol here I have reverted to an extra dose of Robinsons cordial and have instead put the responsibility of stress relieving alcohol consumption firmly at the door of the under pressure mortgage advisor. I think she is coping under the strain of this extra demand, but I suspect its priority has been dropped down until after work this evening – now that is commitment to her job, working out of hours and all that.

Anyway, in light of her increased alcohol consumption I am thoroughly expecting an extra charge on her bill after this fiasco is over to cover the cost of the alcohol that she is consuming on my behalf.


So, next question – mainly rhetorical but any feedback is appreciated – how is it then when you are under pressure, (i.e. if we have not completed on the house by a week today then we are homeless when we fly in next week), and pushing like crazy, most of the rest of the world is in ‘manyana’ mode? No not the stoical mortgage advisor, she is stamping her feet as much as we are, no it is the mortgage company and the assessor who checked the house out for damp – it is 200 years old and in deepest Cumbria after all.


So, we are all running around like headless chickens, submitting the various documents in numerous different formats with different signatures to certify that we are who we say we are and are not international fraudsters. We seem to be having to prove that we are not looking to run off with the building society’s dosh to a deserted island somewhere. So, while we are doing this I have a vision of the movers and shakers at the mortgage company sitting at their desks, feet up, drinking cocktails and watching the Olympics. Then they head off for a boozy long lunch, staggering back into the office, belching loudly, in the late afternoon just to shut down their computers for the weekend. All the time our paperwork is being used to prop up the coffee table and the vague notion that actually we are due to complete on the house next week is orbiting somewhere in the outer atmosphere of their booze soaked minds.


The other thought that is going through my mind is that the mortgage company have had a new intake of staff – all young, enthusiastic, ready to conquer the world and keen to learn, (weren’t we all like that at the start of our careers before the stuffing was knocked out of us all?). Now, in order to instill a sense of responsibility, duty, order and  compliance in the wet behind the ears crew they had grabbed our file and are treating us as a training exercise.

Yes, they are showing them how to do every conceivable check and cross check everything they possibly can. Then, as if that was not enough, they show the how to make life as difficult as possible for the applicants and reduce them to their knees. Once it is clear that they have made our lives hell, then they will consider issuing the approval which quite frankly could have been issued weeks ago.

So, just my thoughts and ramblings. The truth probably lies somewhere between the two theories, and as I write they are enjoying a Friday lunch in the local pub.

While I am on it I would just like to say a massive thank you to our longstanding female GP here on the compound. I have talked about our fab medical centre on several occasions in the course of the blog and also our fab South African female GP who quite frankly has seen more parts and orifices of the residents of the compound on which she lives then she deserves but maintains her sanity and professionalism. A steel curtain seems to come down on our fab Doc as she leaves the Medical Centre each day and immediately bumps into her last patient in the supermarket whose haemorrhoids she has just checked or prostate she has just examined. Not an easy situation for anybody, especially near the frozen beef sausage section of the shop.


Anyway, our fab Doc stepped into the breach yesterday as the mortgage company decided that they could not possibly accept the documents that were submitted two months ago that were certified by the mortgage advisor. No they had to be certified by somebody such as lawyer, barrister, doctor etc.

So, our fab Doc stepped up to the mark. Now it wasn’t just a case of a quick signature, oh no, the mortgage company wanted a 500 word essay on each document, (slight exaggeration but you get the picture), and it has to be written by the Doc, signed, dated and stamped.

To be honest it would have been quicker if the Doc had sat and written her life story to submit – there were quite a few documents each needing a lot of writing. The good Doc stamped each document diligently with her official stamp that listed all her GMC numbers etc, etc before sighing and tackling the next document.

I suspect that there will be another invoice coming soon – from the fab Doc for a new ink stamp such was the amount of stamping needing to be done yesterday. I provided the black pen so there is an expense saved.

Now the good Doc has a life of her own and quite frankly if the reward for several years at Medical School and quite a few years of post graduate practice is having the privilege of sitting down and completing War & Peace on our documents she must have wondered why the heck she bothered.


So, despite the fact that I suspect the good Doc does not read my ramblings on the EIOT blog, I would like to say thank you for her time, patience and ink in helping us to jump through the latest hoop being added to the mortgage obstacle course by the building society.

So, onto other matters.

No sign of our intrepid explorers today, but it is the weekend here so the husbands have probably taken over responsibility for their charges.

As for ‘that’ phone call the other day, well we still have not got to the bottom of who it was, what they wanted and whether they would call back or if we should call them. The trickle of information and nuggets of wisdom have dried up from TSTFO and we are really no further.

I would say that if it was urgent they would call back, but 3 days later I guess it was not urgent.

Now for various logistical reasons today that I will not bore you with, I have had to have an unplanned rest day.

So, himself and the small man disappeared off to the gym and came back beaming – well the small man, not the big one, he is more of an exercise outside sort of chap rather than the gym.

Right, better dash, off out to se the legend that is Tommo this evening – stand by for chaos!


Don’t forget to donate, this is all about raising money for Tommy’s

Donate at


A ‘Comfort Soft’ Gecko, Mortgage Woes and King Pin Shock…..

I am a broken woman. I am a shadow of my former self. I am wrecked, shattered, smashed, on the brink. I am not what I used to be.


Yes, the UK mortgage system has got the better of me.

Buying a house is stressful enough and I am not undermining the stress levels of anybody who is currently undergoing this purgatory in the UK at the moment.

But buying a house as an expat while living in Saudi Arabia straight after the Brexit vote – well that is another matter and takes it all to a whole new level.

We have bought houses in the past, but always while living in the UK.

Suddenly, because we live in Saudi we have apparently, in the eyes of post Brexit UK financial institutions, grown horns, become fraudsters, run international money laundering operations, are people traffickers, are financially incompetent and have stolen our own identities as we are in fact confidence tricksters who run our empire from a dingy internet cafe in Nigeria.

Now, not for one second am I suggesting that all fraud originates from dingy internet cafes in Nigeria, but I think that everybody everywhere has either received or knows somebody who has received one of those dodgy emails from successful business men in Nigeria who need to get some money out of the country on the quiet and really need your help and your bank account details to make it happen.


Sound familiar? Yup.

Well, that seems to be how we are viewed at the moment by the financial institutions in the UK who seem to think that we are out to fleece them and bring the UK to its knees.

Well, the UK and in particular the banking sector has done a pretty fine job of that itself over the last few years and does not need any assistance from us thank you very much.

Anyway, despite me having a rant I do not need to recap the absolute load of rubbish that they have piled on us and our long suffering mortgage advisor over the last 24 hrs. I am sure you are not at all interested in our mortgage debacle, other than to say that even the afore mentioned, long suffering, highly experienced and usually unflappable mortgage advisor who specialises in Ex-Pat mortgages was last seen with extra grey hairs scuttling off to the alcohol department of her local Sainsburys having thrown her mobile phone in the nearest river.


Anyway, we seem to be making progress – although I hesitate to say that as we have said it on several occasions over the last few months only for more levels of waffle to be piled on.

We still remain optimistic that our voyage through the turbulent seas of expat mortgages will be over as planned in the next week or so – yes, they piled even more hassle on us just a week before doing the deal – and we will be able to regroup, refocus and drown the memories of the whole damned process in a sea of Sauvignon Blanc, Prosecco, Bombay Sapphire, Chardonnay, bacon butties, pork scratchings and belly pork.


Please remind me again why I live in a ‘dry’ country – I would have willingly exchanged any personal possessions, a kidney or a small child for a glass of something strong over the last 24hrs.

So, onto matters a whole lot more interesting and quite frankly entertaining.

Now I have to admit to a level off naivety this morning. Yeap, during our trip to the gym this morning I was as normal taken short in a ‘having had two children sort of way’ and for fear of an imminent incident on the treadmill off I scuttled.


Now I was somewhat surprised to see that the ‘Crazy Corner’ area was quiet. In fact it was not just quiet, it was silent. There was not a single soul there, not one exasperated and beleaguered mum, not one screaming child, no poster pain hand prints on the walls, no half eaten sweets hanging on for grim death like a ‘klingon on the starboard side’ and not one cleaner armed with a mop and bucket valiantly attempting to maintain the place in its pristine state.

My journey to the loo was completely unhindered and completely silent.

I should have known better than to assume that there were no kids activities today. I should have been prepared for the onslaught, but in my naivety I wasn’t.


After finishing in the gym the small man made his way home and after a few minutes I made my way to the centre of our universe, well the unofficial centre of our compound anyway, King Pin.

There are two heavy fire doors to get into King Pin from the gym corridor and they are at right angles to each other. So, you can not see through the door windows as you approach, even if you want to.

The doors not only protect agains fire, but they also protect against noise.

I think you know where I am going now.

As I reached for the second door, I was glancing at my phone to see if there was any further lines of doom, destitution and pending despondency from our stoical mortgage advisor and failed to look through the window.

The second the door lurched open on its hinges, it hit me. The sight, sound and smell of a mass of children, desperate mums and diner food. Yeap, today’s activity was bowling and the coach loads had relocated from ‘Crazy Corner’ to the other end of the building in the bowling alley which is situated in King Pin.


You may recall the recent post, Forget The Hot Water Bottle – click on the link for a recap, when I discussed the plight of one set of our intrepid explorers and there return home to a house in Saudi in summer after a month with the air-conditioning turned off. Well in this post I talked about the blast of hot air that steams you face when you first open the front door. Well, in this case, please consider the blast of noise, smell and exasperation that greeted me when I opened that door to go into King Pin.

Fear shuddered down my spine, but I had to be brave and venture forth. Yeap, I did it, I survived.

Our intrepid explorers were present, looking vaguely harassed – things must be bad if they are struggling. One meltdown later, (intrepid explorer’s child, not an intrepid explorer themselves but it could have been possible I hasten to add), everybody was seated, the children had food and the mum’s had coffee. For a short while they at least were cool, calm and collected.


Slowly, all the mum’s and offspring made their way from the bowling alley to the eating area – I made my way from the eating area, food in hand for the gruesome twosome, home.

Talking of home, I regret to say that there is still no sign of Gordon. My searching with the torch under the kitchen appliances were fruitless and yes I did keep my mouth shut.

There have been no sightings now for a couple of days.

The possibilities are:

  1. Gordon has turned his gecko toes up and is crisping up under a household appliance – highly likely
  2. Gordon is alive and well under household appliance – becoming increasingly unlikely
  3. Gordon is in a watery grave somewhere in a filter or drain in the washing machine – quite possible
  4. Gordon is gleaming Persil white and Comfort soft among the huge ironing pile – hmmm, not sure, I have checked the pile but he could be lurking in a decomposing sort of way
  5. Gordon has made his way outside and is reunited with his gecko buddies – highly unlikely, the door is not left open at this time of year and I certainly have not ushered him out

No, it is not looking promising for Gordon and I suspect that when I finally get round to moving the big white kitchen appliances a deceased gecko may greet me.


Right, the financial institutions in the UK should now have ceased work for the day which means that there are hopefully no more demands from the mortgage company asking what colour knickers I am wearing, how many tins of beans are in the cupboard and if they can have a copy of my Saudi driving licence. Yes, think about that one, it is a favourite trick usually of HM Customs when you claim your VAT back at the airport when you come back to Saudi. They try to trip you up to check if you really are a Saudi resident. They ask to see your Saudi driving license. Genuine female residents know all too well that there is no such thing for women, but fluff the answer and they get excited and think they have you…….

Anyway, the mortgage company have not asked for that one – yet. They have however done everything else.

The time also means that our beleaguered mortgage advisor is probably justifiably opening a large bottle of something alcoholic to calm her nerves and bolster herself for the next onslaught tomorrow.


So, on that note I sign off for this evening.


Don’t forget to donate, this is all about raising money for Tommy’s

Donate at