Eddie, Help! I'm Stuck! There's No Toilet Paper!!

With a title like this - it can only be a continuation of my Painting and Decorating experiences.  The gentleman uttering these panic stricken-words, "Eddie, help! I'm stuck! There's no toilet paper!" was Ron, who is a very large man who sometimes used to help Chris and I with our decorating jobs.  I have no photo of him so I am using this elephant because:
a) It is large like him.
b) He is keeping his trunk crossed that Eddie can find him some toilet paper.
c) An elephant never forgets so it is to remind us always to have sufficient toilet paper with us at all times so we don't make an ass of ourselves.

Ron is a retired British Rail engineer and he loved being with us on our decorating ventures. He loved the work, the comradeship, the leg pulling and general excitement - he got a real buzz from it all.  He was extremely enthusiastic with a brush and a roller, so much so we could let him loose on just a few jobs where the resultant mess on the floor was not too much of an issue, being at pre-carpeting stage.  He went at his work with such gusto that paint was sprayed everywhere in addition to the surface on which he was working. His hair, face and work clothes were rapidly covered, in whatever paint he was using, invariably brilliant white ceiling paint, and he very often looked like we had somehow used him as a brush because his hair stood on end, saturated in paint, often resembling a toilet brush.  I have never seen a paint roller move so fast over the ceiling and whereas Chris and I always loaded the roller with paint to apply a thick coat of emulsion with a slow and deliberate roller action, Ron's technique was something to behold. He loaded the roller from the tray, lifted the dripping roller to the ceiling and rapidly whizzed the roller squeezing it hard and covering the same area time and time again so very little paint actually stuck to the ceiling, yet paint was sprayed in copious amounts everywhere else. He was rapidly covered from head to toe. He then waited for the paint to dry (but not long enough) and proceeded to apply a second coat with equal abandon.  We did not have the heart to 'have a go at him' but explained our technique to him time and time again with little or no apparent success.  On one occasion he made a very good job applying a coat of coloured acrylic eggshell to a bathroom wall and when we complimented him on his success he immediately got his roller out and went hell for leather over the same wall and promptly ruined it.

Anyway on this occasion Ron was helping us to prepare some flats for a good customer of mine and Chris and I were a bit pushed so we asked Fred for some assistance.  It was late, Chris had gone home, and Ron and I were just finishing something off before Ron 'took short' and headed off to the toilet.  After a while I heard a rather embarrassed voice saying, "Eddie, I'm in a spot of bother here! There is no toilet paper! Can you find any out there?".  It is on such occasions that if anyone says that to us we acquire a sudden sense of superiority LOL.  They are completely at our mercy - I am sure we have all been in that situation. I replied, smiling to myself,  "Sorry Ron, looks as though you're in trouble in there 'cause there is nothing out here and the shops are all shut and we are miles from anywhere!".  "God, what do I do?", grumbled Ron.  I said I would have a good look round and after a while I shouted. "I have some good news and some bad news!  First the good news, I have found some newspapers.  Would you like 'The Financial Times' or 'The Guardian'"  "I don't care! Either, Eddie, pass them both and what's the bad news?"  "The print is smudged on both and there's not much of it!".  Anyway I handed them through the door and left him to it. He seemed slightly irritated when I asked him if he'd managed to do the crossword - then I heard a rustling of paper. Smiling to myself, after a few minutes I heard some swearing, culminating with Ron complaining, "Hell! my finger's gone through and there's print everywhere!".  "Hang on a minute!" I said, trying not to laugh, "I'll have another look . . . . . wait I've found something else!  Yes, I have some good news and some bad news for you!  First the good news.  I've found some wallpaper.  Now the bad news, it's ready pasted!". "Oh Hell!"

That did the trick, eventually, as a temporary measure I would imagine.
Anyway the moral of the story was that from that day onwards we always made sure we had a couple of rolls with us at all times.

Ron was, and is, a great character and I shall be recalling some other funny experiences when we shared his delightful company.

An Unlikely Cure For Sciatica - Falling Out Of A Skip

I had been suffering from sciatica for years. The pain, emanating from my lower back and travelling down my right leg, invariably occurred when I mowed the lawn. It must have been something to do with the way I stood and bent slightly. Sometimes the pain was severe and sometimes it was not there at all. 

I am continuing my stories of my painting and decorating days.  My first two stories described two very unusual and weird characters and I am pleased they seem to have amused you. Last week I said I would write about my first encounter with Miss C.  I will do so next time but to have a break from her today another amusing story springs to mind. 

Chris and I were asked to remove a large hedge and erect a fence.  We were 'Jacks Of All Trades' so we did not mind doing something a little different from Painting and Decorating.  In fact the previous year for these customers we converted a flat garage roof to a pitched tiled roof.  Our customers were delighted with the roof, I am pleased to say.

This time we had to remove a large amount of vegetation so we hired a large skip and because their house was at the end of a Cull-De-Sac we asked the driver to unload the skip right at the end as near to the pavement as possible.  The problem was that there was rampant vegetation from another overgrown hedge in 'no-man's land' and this almost obliterated our view of the curb.  Looking closer through the vegetation the skip was about a foot from the curb which was OK so it was unloaded there.

That's my boy!! Park it by the bushes at the end of the Cull-De-Sac. 

(Actually our skip was much bigger than this one.)

 Hey, and Mr Skip! Listen! Whatever you do, don't do this!!!

Chris and I started work and the hedge was soon half demolished and we started to load the skip. We had to condense the branches as much as possible thus making the most of the volume available to us, and we did this by climbing into the skip and jumping up and down on the hedge cuttings.  Things were proceeding quite nicely - we managed to compress the branches a lot, so it looked as though we would get it all in the skip.

Then the daughter arrived in her RAVA car, an expensive 4x4, and boy, she was 'Rava' nice herself - I suppose she might have been about 30 and both Chris and I could tell she 'turned heads' LOL. Like her car we had imagined she might be rather expensive 'to run' and we imagined she would not be satisfied with half a pint of  chandy.  We had met Mrs Lush, as I shall call her, several times and she always made us a nice cup of tea.  Well on this occasion I was distracted because I was having a 'little peep' at her while I was jumping up and down, and boy, I was suddenly aware that it was taking much longer than I expected to make contact with the hedge cuttings.  I was then aware of falling into a hedge and making a hard landing on the pavement curb stone.  I had landed on my coccyx with a resounding "bump".  Newton's Law can be quite unkind sometimes, paticularly since I am a fairly big chap and weigh about 15 stones (210 lbs).  I know, I know, I should be on a diet but it is all these wonderful foodie blogs I visit - I stand no chance! Anyway, back to the story,  I was aware of the daughter shouting to Chris with concern in her voice, "Quick Chris, Eddie's disappeared into the bushes and suddenly vanished! He was jumping up and down in the skip and now he's gone!"  (I'm roaring with laughter as I write this - she must have thought I was a complete 'nutter'. LOL). "Get on with the story, Eddie!" "ok"

Surprisingly I did not feel too bad, considering I must have fallen at least 3-4 feet and landed very hard on my . . . er . . . . posterior. Really I should by rights have sustained a nasty injury, but I was extremely lucky.  Chris and the mother rushed over to investigate where I was - they could not see me at this stage!!  Eventually they found me and asked if I was alright. I could move my legs, I felt a bit bruised but managed to crawl out sideways on my hands and knees.  The mother said, "You look as though you have been pulled through a hedge backwards!" and, being a qualified nurse, she insisted I pulled my trousers down so she could see the extent of my injuries. She pronounced that I had a few cuts, which she cleaned and plastered.  I was bruised as well but fortunately managed to stand up and walk about normally. She asked me what had happened and, laughing, I said I was admiring her daughter and missed the front of the skip and landed on my backside!  "That will learn you!", she said, wagging her finger at me. We were all laughing our heads of, including Mrs Lush when she found out I was OK and promptly made me a cup of tea.  I said, "Thank you! The lengths I have to go to to get a cup of tea!" She fell about laughing when she learned the full extent of the story and then. . . . she winked at me!

Well, this will confound all medical theory because from that day to this I have NEVER had a re-occurrence of sciatica.  I guess I was lucky - it must have knocked something back in place thus relieving compression on the sciatic nerve - a sort of mega chiropractor treatment.  I think I might have got the injury years before when I was cross country running.  I jumped over a gate but my leading right foot caught the top and I crashed to the ground.  The jarring might have knocked something out of place. However, I would not recommend going to all these lengths of falling out of a skip as a cure LOL.

Next time we return to our first encounter with Miss C.

Decorating For A Very Weird Miss - Have To Read It To Believe It

 I haven't got a photo of me 'tearing my hair out', which would be entirely appropriate for this post, so I am using this to illustrate my Painting and Decorating stories. I am working on the photo LOL.

Welcome to part two of Down Memory Lane.
Last time I started recalling some of my hilarious Painting and Decorating experiences. Very frustrating at the time but they always get a laugh and Chris and I shall always remember them. Last week we met a very weird regional bank manager who was seeking perfection in this very imperfect world.  Since that post a flood of other experiences have surfaced from my aging memory banks of my cerebellum, so I thought I had better chronicle them before I lose many more grey matter cells.  For those who missed last week if you want a laugh have a look see, but come back to this after because this character is something else. LOL

This time I am introducing a lady who was in her mid 70s when we worked for her on three occasions. She is a rather small and fragile lady, very intelligent and she possesses some very strange mannerisms. She speaks with a very pronounced and rather posh British accent, so you can imagine what she sounds like when you get to the dialogue. She was a typical boffin and worked for some sort of government office and had a very good job we imagined plus a good pension. She is still alive and I see her sometimes in my local travels but I always try to avoid her if I can because, boy, she just talks the hind legs off a donkey and once she 'grabs' you  it is VERY difficult to get away from her.  I suppose she must be 85 now.  I shall call her Miss C. She is a spinster and a retired scientific geographer . . . . . and she is absolutely weird . . . . it is totally understandable why she was and always has been . . . .  a Miss. She is quite a character and deserves two posts I think.  First, I am recalling our last job Chris and I did for her about 10 years ago.  I shall post our first encounter next time.

By this time we knew Miss C quite well and were used to her rather strange behaviour. This time our objective was to decorate her lounge/diner and, boy, what a logistics operation that turned out to be. Our initial brief was to paint her windows, comprising two outward openers and a vent opener with the specific request NOT to open the windows and to use paint which had no odour whatsoever, since her sinuses might be affected adversely. LOL.  I looked at Chris and we tried hard not to laugh.  I said this might present a problem because not all the window surfaces would be painted if we did as she asked.  She replied that she NEVER opened the windows since she did not like fresh air as it adversely affected her lungs and it would be OK if we painted round the surfaces.  Chris said the windows might become stuck if we did that to which she replied that this did not matter as they would NEVER be opened again. We told her that modern day paints were relatively odour free and we usually did an undercoat and a top coat. "Oh don't do that!", she said, "I could not bear the smell of paint for two days instead of one! Wait until I go out to the shops and could one of you paint using one coat gloss while the other follows with my hair drier to make it dry quicker?"  We knew from past experience it was futile to argue with her and much as we detested using that awful one coat gloss paint since it is absolutely no good at all, we agreed. The net curtains were dreadful.  I think they had been there unwashed since she moved in sometime during the1970s.

Now to part 2 of the brief!!  She requested that since there was so many books and belongings in both rooms, could we decorate in two halves so it would be easier to move things about.  We had to wallpaper as well as paint the woodwork and we could see it was going to be a logistical nightmare. We looked around and thought, what a load of junk!!  In fact there were books and scientific papers scattered all over the place, including a huge print out of raw data she used for her Ph.D in the 60's. This was dated from the early days of main frame computers.  Boy, it was still there on the floor, two foot high and gathering dust. I bet she never even looks at it.

We started in the dining area and managed to clear all the books and the dust was dreadful. We thoroughly cleaned everything and washed it all down and when it had dried we started rubbing down the woodwork, as we normally do, to provide a good 'key' for the paint. "What ARE you doing? You are creating loads of dust which is affecting my sinuses!". We answered that we were just giving it a light rub down and we would vacuum it as soon as we have finished. "Kindly STOP this NOW! I cannot breathe!".  I pointed out that we had dealt with a vast amount of dust when cleaning the books and book case.  "That is different!", she said, "that is MY dust which is OK but I cannot tolerate YOUR dust!".

I whispered to Chris, "Boy, what the hell have we got here!"
He said, "Put the kettle on Miss C and while you are doing it we shall vacuum up and the dust will be gone."

"Boy, what the heck do we do now?" we thought.

We asked her if she had any shopping to do and she said, "Yes". We said, "Why don't you do it NOW so we can get this over and done with?"   She said, "Yes, on the proviso that one of you uses my hair drier to make that invasive odour dry more quickly!  It is repugnant and irritating to my eyes, nose and throat.  I shall have to dose myself with throat lozenges."

"Should I open the window to let some more air in? That might dilute the smell for you . . . . and while we are at it we could paint all the window surfaces for you! They should be dry by morning!", I said.

"I am declining your suggestion on two counts", she replied, " First there would be a security problem with windows being open all night, and second as I mentioned before I do not like fresh air!"

"But you have been outside sitting in it for 2 hours this afternoon", I said, "Remember, you actually returned to say you felt better!"

"Now look - I like fresh air when I want and I also dislike fresh air when I want - kindly acceded to my wishes and directives!"

We thought, "Why doesn't she talk properly?" . . . . and, "Which century does she spring from?". . . . . but I still managed to reply, "Yes Miss C. We shall always strive to acquiesce!" (There! I know a few big words too! you silly bovine creature! LOL)

All through the job it was like banging our heads against a brick wall. This type of conversation continued, on and off, for days and the job actually took us three times as long as it should have to complete.  She wasn't cantankerous all the time, but she did waste a lot of our time as well because she just loved debating issues of the day, particularly scientific ones, and several times she kept us from our work for hours.  Honest we thought sometimes it would be quicker to read "The decline and fall of the Roman Empire" than to have coffee with her. She invited us to call her Hilary, which we did, but we had to be firm with her a few times about getting back to work.  Deep down she was quite a likeable person who always said she wanted to be invited onto the captain's table when she was on her twice yearly Mediterranean Cruises.  She never succeeded - I wonder why.

All things considered we were very pleased when the job was finished . . . . and yes, the windows were painted with the windows shut!  Oh! who cares!! I am sure no-one will ever know!  A new inhabitant would have them 'whipped out' and fit new UPVc double glazed replacements - hopefully buying through me!  Yes, I am an agent for a local company.

I'll explain some more of her funny antics and hang ups next time.

Down Memory Lane - My Painting and Decorating Days

Hi folks!!

A typical balancing act on a ladder!!

I ran my own Painting & Decorating business for 15 years and met quite a number of weird customers and consequently I have some funny stories. I keep saying I will chronicle some Ambulance stories from my later experiences . . . . and I will! . . . . but these will follow later.  Talking about following, I welcome all my new followers from various Blog Hops . . . and of course I also welcome my existing friends.  Talking of friends I stumbled on a very funny door mat when I was delivering my son's papers the other day - he sometimes is not able to do it!! . . . or won't LOL.  The doormat said, well it didn't actually say it, but it read,

Friends always welcome. Relations by appointment only

Well, it has a ring of truth in it, doesn't it?  But Eddie, you might be thinking, stop digressing and get on with the story!!!!

OK.  I worked with my friend Chris for the 15 years, on most jobs and on this particular occasion we started working for a Regional Bank Manager (Did I hear some "Boooos"?).  This job was a recommendation by a humble Branch Manager, one of his subordinates, who was highly pleased with the work we did for him and his wife.  Mr X, as I shall call him, was something else. (Funny all Mr X's seem a bit weird in my experience.) Anyway, the job was to decorate his landing, hall and stairwell, plus his front room.  He took us to one side right at the start and said he expected perfection and rarely got it, and would we guarantee that he would be 100% satisfied.. A bit of a tall order we thought but we suggested he would be pleased because we worked to a high standard. He said, "Come and look at this!", and highlighted a new wooden conservatory which he had recent had installed.  He said he was very dissatisfied with the installation and pointed at a roof beam, remarking that the joints were not very good and that he could see two pieces of wood instead of one.  I looked at Chris and he raised his eyebrows in unison with mine.  I could not help replying that there were actually two pieces of wood in that joint and it looked perfect to me.  Chris nodded in agreement. Disgruntled he said, "Well, it's not good enough!".

Anyway we proceeded to decorate the landing and he seemed satisfied with the standard of our preparation of the woodwork, the undercoating and gloss work, which took us a couple of days.

Next day we started papering and completed the first two quite complicated drops, involving ladders and scaffolding planks. Guess who worked aloft? You've got it!  We heard him cough behind us and he said, "Oh! dear, oh! dear, that will not do at all!".

We asked why.

He replied that he could see the join in the paper. Now we are pretty good wallpaper hangers and it looked OK to us but we obliged by adjusting it slightly.  Fortunately we were able to slide one drop a little to the left - ever so slightly and carefully.  

"I suppose that had better do!", he said, and seemed reluctantly satisfied with the remainder of our wall papering.

When we got to the lounge we had a lot of problems with him criticising our papering.  Honestly, it was a good job but this "psycho" seemed to belong on a different planet.  The fireplace wall was large, 30 feet by 8 feet high.  He said, "There are joins in the paper and I expected not to see any!  I wanted to see the pattern uninterrupted across the entire wall!".

I said the wall is very large and unfortunately we were unable to find ONE piece of paper large enough to do the entire wall . . . . and had we been able to, how did he suggest we might paste it and hang it!".

"Well, I want perfection!  I have a new house and what do I find?  No-one can do their job properly!  The plasterers made a real mess of things because some cracks appeared in the wall when it dried out.  Those idiots installing the conservatory were totally incompetent and . . . . . now you seem incapable of hanging paper to my satisfaction.  I expect perfection!"

I said, "Now look Mr X, I am afraid you will not get perfection this side of the grave  . . . . . but please rest assured the standard of our work is exceptional and that is why we obtain so many recommendations from satisfied customers."

This seemed to rock him a bit and he made a beeline for Chris and said, "You are not upset are you? I hope not . . . . . look into my eyes . . . . . look into my eyes . . . . . oh! I can see you are upset! . . . look into my eyes!"

The "weirdo", we thought in unison and tried hard to stop laughing.  We imagined him making people redundant at the bank and saying, "You are not upset are you? . . . . . look into my eyes! . . . look into my eyes"".  In fact if he wore a glass eye we might be tempted to look into that because, as the old bank manager jokes say, there may be a modicum of humanity in that one, unlike his natural one.

Anyway, eventually he seemed fairly pleased with it.  His wife was delighted and said to us when he was out, "Take no notice of him, he is a silly old fart!  He just loves to pick fault. It makes him happy!"

He paid us on the dot but we were very relieved to have him out of our hair.  We have never forgotten this experience and still have a laugh about it . . . . . often we say, "Look into my eyes! . . . you are not upset are you?".

Blood Donation No 92!! Phew

It was time for me to visit Dracula's Castle again, as I do three times a year - this time for my 92nd blood donation.  I always say, "If  I make 100 then I will have a transfusion for a change." 

Up to that point the day had been quite uneventful - nothing to inspire a chapter in one's memoirs and I did all the preliminary things like answering the usual questions like, "If you are a man have you ever had sex with a man with or without a condom!" This question always elicits the same response of sheer revulsion every time I answer it, along with similar questions.  I can think of nothing in the whole universe I would hate to do more than this . . . but we all know the National Blood Transfusion Service have to ask these questions because of the tight controls necessary on HIV and trying to prevent spread of AIDS.  Similarly the questionnaire asked if I have ever had, or am descended from anyone who suffered from, CJD or "Mad Cow's Decease".  This unfortunate disease was rife 15 or so years ago in UK and for a while no-one dared eat beef.. The French in particular boycotted all our meat, including Lamb for ages and it affected our entire economy for years. Quite a number of unfortunate people contracted the decease which is not at all pleasant and invariably fatal.  Anyway,  with me declaring a definite no to all of these questions I was summoned into a room for an interview with a nurse who went through the questionnaire and proceeded to test my blood by pricking it with a needle and squeezing a drop into a green solution designed to test the iron content of my blood.  I have had only one failure during my donating life when the globulule floated but this time I watched it sink quite quickly to the bottom.  "OK! you're fine to donate!".

Another nurse escorted me to the donating area and I lay on the bed awaiting Count Dracula.  He was not there but the countess in the disguise of a doctor prepared my left arm for the dreaded needle after applying blood pressure to my upper arm.  When the needle is inserted in a vein it sometimes hurts a little, but more often than not all I ever experience is just a bit more than a prick. Some of my friends, all strapping great chaps, are terrified of needles, and have not the courage to come with me to donate blood. Anyway on this particular occasion she was very gentle with me - all I experienced was a slight prick and I said, "You can do it next time!", which elicited a smile.

Prior to this something new happened.  I was handed a card advising that to assist blood flow during donation it is recommended that we should crimp our buttocks on and off for the entire period.  I laughed myself silly at this and so did the nurse who said it always caused amusement.  As a joke I proceeded to ask, "Which ones, Gluteus Maximus, Gletueus Medius or Gluteus Minimus?" and continued that I had not the foggiest idea how to voluntarily control either of them!".  She howled with laughter.  Oh dear, Eddie strike again!  She said "Forget it, just pump your hand as normal!".

During the donation I noticed a lady next to me and a gent on the other side, all donating.  She looked at me and laughed and asked, "Forgive me for asking but I am wondering, can you do it? "No, haven't a clue!", I said and laughed out loud. "Neither can I, but I'm trying", said the chap in the next bed and he must have tried too hard because he promptly broke wind.  We were in hysterics. The nurse remarked that she regretted the day that this ridiculous card was issued as it invariably was responsible for causing a great deal of embarrassment.  I can see her point. Oh well, I suppose it gave us something to laugh about . . . . and material for my blog.  As a parting shot I did ask her if there was anything else I should practice before my next donation.  Good job she had a good sense of humour.

Normality returned, the donation was completed and a nice cup of hot coffee and biscuits were my reward.  I do it all again in September. Until then, my friends at the transfusion service.  You all do a great job.

Oh and by the way . . . . . can ayone out there do it?

"Do what?"

"Err . . . . . you hnow!" LOL

How To Fix UK's Economy In One Hit

 Like the make-over and green rinse?  LOL

Now this is a series of Wizard ideas on how to revive our flagging economy here in the UK and I suspect elsewhere.  I received an email recently which forms the basis of this post but of course I have added other things, as I usually do. LOL  Please let us ALL write to the Prime Minister to try to knock some sense into Government Policy.

Ok -here we go!

Dear British Prime Minister

Please find below our suggestions for fixing the  UK 's economy.

Instead of giving billions of pounds to banks that will squander the money on lavish parties and unearned bonuses instead of actually lending it to industry and would be home owners, use the following plan.   You can call it the Patriotic Retirement Plan:

There are about 10 million people over 50 in the work force.

Pay them £1 million each severance for early retirement with the following stipulations:

1) They MUST retire..
Ten million job openings - unemployment fixed

2) They MUST buy a new British car.
Ten million cars ordered - Car Industry fixed

3) They MUST either buy a house or pay off their mortgage -
Housing Crisis fixed

4) They MUST send their grand kids to school/college/university -
Crime rate fixed

5) They MUST buy £100 WORTH of alcohol/tobacco a week .....
 

And there's your money back in duty/tax etc

It can't get any easier than that!

With all those savings you can afford to pay £500K to those dear, poor retired people currently struggling on a mean and meagre state pension which you greedy so and sos tax.  This will in turn stimulate spending and assist greatly in reviving the economy.  However, if more money is needed to finance this, have all members of parliament pay back their falsely claimed expenses and second home allowances.

Stop ALL immigration immediately.

With our revived economy now flourishing stop ALL manufactured imports and start new manufacturing industries throughout UK and then we can start Exporting again and reduce our crippling balance of payments.

Leave Europe immediately and stand alone like Switzerland.  They are doing very nicely thank you!  Europe stinks!  If you must link with someone declare war on USA and surrender next day and become the 51st State.  Believe me! they love us, especially me, our history, our humour (or humor), the way we talk . . . . and petrol will come down in price from 137p per litre (over £5 per US Gallon) . . . . . golly there would be riots if they had to pay that!!

Stop immediately ALL Globalisation!!  It holds every country down!!  Let successful countries excel.
 Also, Prime Minister……….. 

Let's put the pensioners in jail and the criminals in a nursing home.

This way the pensioners would have access to showers, hobbies and walks.

They'd receive unlimited free prescriptions, dental and medical treatment, wheel chairs etc and they'd receive money instead of paying it out.

They would have constant video monitoring, so they could be helped instantly, if they fell, or needed assistance.

Bedding would be washed twice a week, and all clothing would be ironed and returned to them.

A guard would check on them every 20 minutes and bring their meals and snacks to their cell.

They would have family visits in a suite built for that purpose.

They would have access to a library, weight room, spiritual counselling, pool and education.

Simple clothing, shoes, slippers, PJ's and legal aid would be free, on request.

Private, secure rooms for all, with an exercise outdoor yard, with gardens.

Each senior could have a PC a TV radio and daily phone calls.

There would be a board of directors to hear complaints, and the guards would have a code of conduct that would be strictly adhered to.

The criminals would get cold food, be left all alone and unsupervised.. Lights off at 8pm, and showers once a week.  Live in a tiny room and pay £600.00 per week and have no hope of ever getting out.

Think about this (more points of contention):

COWS
Is it just me, or does anyone else find it amazing that during the mad cow epidemic our government could track a single cow, born in Appleby almost three years ago, right to the stall where she slept in the county of Cumbria?

And, they even tracked her calves to their stalls. But they are unable to locate 125,000 illegal immigrants wandering around our country. Maybe we should give each of them a cow.

Folks, if you think these ideas would work, please forward to everyone you know.

  ------------------------------------------------------------------------
Also;
Think about this ... If you don't want to forward this for fear of offending someone -- YOU ARE PART OF THE PROBLEM! It is time for us grumpy old folk of  Britain to speak up!

They Cut My Phone Off AGAIN

 "No Eddie!  That will not get the phone working!"

 

This account of utter incompetence by our late service provider, TALK TALK, follows my previous post which describes our total inability to receive any call for an unacceptable period.  This time round we could just about make feeble outgoing calls due to a line fault.  My account of all this shows just how difficult it was to 'galvanise' these folk to restore our service. It took 3 days to get it fixed.

Mrs Bluelights and I enjoyed our fully working phone and internet service for just ONE DAY.  The following morning I picked up the phone hoping to make a call and it was completely DEAD.  We were cut off  from all phone conversations AND of course all internet communication was now impossible.

From our front window I could see the cause of the problem. Workmen had been digging up the pavement, YET AGAIN, but this time further up the road.  There was no-one there - just a big hole cordoned off and in the hole I saw all the telephone cables and a large supply of chippings were ready to bury them.  The company responsible for this was OPEN REACH who are contracted to repair and install telephone lines for both BT and TALK TALK. As mentioned before TALK TALK use BT lines for their service.  I enquired of a few neighbours asking them if their phones were working and they all said yes and the neighbour living alongside the hole said they had just had a business line installed which was working.  From the OPEN REACH sign I obtained a telephone number.  I rang the number on my mobile and I was pleased to hear a human voice immediately.  I reported that due to work by their engineers my line had been cut and I would like it restored.  The lady said rudely, "Nothing to do with us!" and she said it was not possible for me to report the fault to them and I should do so to BT.  I felt like saying it had everything to do with you, you silly bovine creature but  I asked her for a BT telephone contact number so I could report the fault so they could come back and fix it.  "Sorry, I do not have a number please look in your local telephone directory!"

At home and already fuming I tried in vain to reach BT line faults through their menu driven automated voice system and the annoying part was that the 0800 freephone service from a land line was not available to any mobile user, so this was a very expensive call. The automated lady kept apologising that they were very busy, my call meant a lot to them, my call was in a queue and they would deal with it as soon as they could.  Ten minutes later I was still in the queue and getting very frustrated.  This fruitless call cost me £10. Mrs Bluelights advised I had better give up for the night because I was showing tell tale signs of blowing a fuse.

I left a note in a prominent position the hole hoping it would be found and read by those morons who had cut my phone line explaining that my line was cut and would they please investigate and restore it.  Some hope!!!  The note was protected by a clear plastic wallet.  The next morning the hole had been filled and my note buried for ever, perhaps to be discovered by a future archaeologist investigating a series of rude notes  found regularly relating to similar circumstances.

Next morning, armed with all the TALK TALK telephone numbers, I made my way to my daughter's house where I am doing some restoration and decorating work and sat down to use her telephone to report the matter to TALK TALK.  The call was an 0800 number which is free of charge to land line users.  After a whole series of automated menu driven and highly annoying choices I was cut off after being thanked for calling TALK TALK by this female android voice.  Fuming, I rang the sales department where I obtained an immediate human voice seemingly drooling to sell me their services.  I explained that I was already  a poor and badly treated sod and as their customer and I wanted to report a fault.  "Which number, Sir?" was the reply and when I gave him our telephone number he said, "Ah! I see your fault has been corrected!"  I counted to ten and explained the fault was indeed corrected last week but I was trying to report a subsequent fault, hence the call.

"Are you speaking from that phone now, Sir?"
"Er! No! I cannot because the bloody phone is not working, so how can I?"
"No need to shout at me, Sir.  Are you at your house and can you speak to me on your mobile phone!"
"No . . . . and No! I am not in my house and I cannot afford to waste money talking to you on my mobile!  I am using a freephone service elsewhere which is denied to me using a mobile where I have already wasted £10 trying to report this!  I am not willing to spend a fortune using my mobile Pay As You Go phone. How do you suggest I communicate with you? By bongo drums or semaphore or carrier pigeon . . . or maybe pony express?"

"We must test your line, Sir!"
"You can! my wife is at home all day!"
"Has she a mobile?"
"No"
"Well we cannot talk to her! . . . can we?"
"Then send someone round to fix it and then you can talk to her all day long, can't you!"

Anyway I reported the fault and he said he would get an engineer round to my house first thing in the morning.

Next morning arrived and sure enough a young fellow called round with some kit and tested the phone.  Surprise, surpise, he pronounced it stone dead and proceeded to trace the external connection.  He returned half an hour later to report that our line was no longer connected to anything!  It should have been connected inside a telephone cabinet a quarter of a mile away but was not and he actually found it three quarters of a mile away terminating in the middle of the road.  No wonder the internet had been so slow! He said "I shouldn't be telling you this but it may be that your line might have been used by BT for the business line up the road because you are serviced by TALK TALK, a rival company and this was the easiest way for them to fix it."  I told him I suspected this right from the outset.

He said that he was a line specialist (Line Man) and not an underground specialist (UG) and that he would report this and we would hear from them soon.

I received a call on my mobile from a BT engineer who said he was on his way and wanted to confirm where the overhead line was.  I said there were no overhead lines because it is all underground in our area.  "Oh! glad I called, saved me a journey, I will get a UG specialist to call at your house as soon as possible.  I received a call from a very pleased Mrs Bluelights saying that an OPEN REACH engineer had called round and he had partially fixed the phone.  We could now make calls but not receive any.


Well some progress . . . . Rome was not built in a day!


When I returned home Mrs Bluelights explained that a poor lady round the corner could now no longer receive any calls and that all their calls now came to our number.  Not sure how she found our mobile number but the dear old lady pleaded with me to try to report it to BT (her service provider) because she could not do so.  She could not contact any of her family except by expensive mobile.  I could now make calls and use the 0800 fee number so I was pleased to report the fault . . . . eventually!!!  I had to go through yet another series of menu driven choices before finally finding a human female person at BT.  I was now able to make the call and explain everything about the lady' line fault and my fault and that we had a crossed line.


Next day an OPEN REACH engineer called at the lady's house and fixed her phone and rang me on my mobile to say he was coming round to see me.  After a few minutes he rang the door bell and explained that my fault had not been reported so he was unable to deal with it regrettably.  He rang his HQ to check again and still it had not been reported.  He said it was a pity because he could easily have fixed it that afternoon.  He went!

I checked the phone . . . . . . and . . . . . complete silence!!
My line was uncoupled yet again and I could neither make or receive calls and the internet was down, as it was from the start. All extremely depressing.

I promptly rang TALK TALK on my mobile to find out what the blazes was going on!  With fire coming out of my ears and steam from my nostrils I got through to the fault line and asked them to ring me back which they did, fortunately.  I was asked for my telephone number and was advised there was a fault on that line!!!  To use a Jim Suldog expression, "Holy Mary on a pogo stick! what dumb and cretinous collection of twits they all are at TALK TALK! Why don't they rename themselves as CAN'T TALK?"  The line went silent - my mobile had run out of money!  All this is not good for any one's blood pressure and a very good lady friend of mine said that if this had happened to her someone would have been killed by now.

Next morning at my daughter's house I managed to reach the fault department . . . . . eventually.
An android said after some awful fill in music, "If you would like to talk to someone about this fault please press 3 on the key pad!"
Ah! . . . . . we might be getting somewhere!", I thought eagerly after a good night's sleep.
"Hello Sir, my name is £$@?$%", said an eastern gentleman with an incomprehensible name in an almost incomprehensible voice, "how can we help you!"
I went through the whole thing yet again and asked him why he had not reported the fault.
His amazing reply was that under the terms of the contract they had 30 days to fix the fault but they would try to do so within 72 hours!
"Oh and when exactly do you propose fixing my phone?  Day 29 maybe? or perhaps it might be my birthday day 28?  Now look never mind the 30 days I want this resolved today!! . . . . savvy"
I was absolutely blazing by now and demanded to speak to the managing director immediately.
"Solly, Sir, Zat is not possible!"
"Your manager then!"
"Solly Sir, I am authorised to deal with zis call!"
I ended by saying that unless my phone and internet service was fully restored this day I would terminate my contract with TALK TALK and write to every newspaper and magazine in the country explaining their total incompetence of this organisation.  I slammed the phone down!!

Silence for 24 hours . . . . . not a Dickie Bird from TALK TALK or anyone . . . . still no phone or internet!!! GRRRR!!

Next morning I rang the sales department explaining that I could get no sense whatsoever from the fault people and I had been left dangling for 24 hours not knowing what if anything they were doing.  I threatened to cancel my contract there and then unless I received prompt action. I was transferred to someone managing the engineering section and he informed me that my case had been referred upwards since it was a rare case of taking a while to resolve.  I gave him an earful explaining that the problem could have been fixed 2 days ago if someone from their organisation had bothered to report the matter to OPEN REACH who had knocked on my door informing me that no-one had done so. Why had they not done so and finished my sentence by informing him that next door's cat could give me better service.

"Don't shout at me!"  he said, "I am trying to get it fixed for you!"
"You are lucky my friend you are dealing with me . . . . Mrs Bluelights would crucify you . . .  and may yet do so unless you get this resolved TODAY!"

That afternoon I received a call on my mobile from their engineering department asking if I was at home and would I be available to make tests on my phone.  They wanted to make sure the line was dead because if it wasn't then they would have to invoice me £100.  I was furious!! . . . . saying with vitriolic words spewing from my mouth to the effect that two OPEN REACH engineers had already tested it and agreed that the line had been terminally ill and had 'snuffed it' four days ago.

You will not believe this but that afternoon I received yet another call from OPEN REACH advising that they might have to charge me £100 if the line was found to be not dead.

"IT IS DEAD . . . . AS DEAD AS A DODO!!

I received a text message from TALK TALK saying my fault would be rectified in 72 hours.

I received another text from TALK TALK saying their engineers had found a fault.

I was absolutely at a loss to know what else I could do to get ANY sense out of ANYONE at TALK TALK.

Well . . . . next day an OPEN REACH engineer did call round and eventually managed to restore our line just in time to hand it over to Virgin Media my new service provider with whom I am well pleased . . . . so far!!


TALK TALK did not like this at all . . . . another customer defecting to their arch rival.  Well it is purely their fault and no-one else's.  I now have a much faster broadband, clearer phone (which works) and a good TV service. . . . . . all fed by fibre optic cable . . . . much faster and much more efficient that the copper connections on a BT line.  I tested the broadband and it delivers an impressive 30Mb and opposed to about 6 Mb I was getting before.

Next day I received a call from TALK TALK informing me that they would be prepared to upgrade my service at no extra charge if I stayed with them.  They also asked me to grade from 0 to 5 a series of questions designed to improve customer service.  I shall not tell you what my response was LOL.

Now, who's had the last laugh?
Up yours TALK TALK