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’


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