….for the new Oakleaf Circle site to become active. It’s been a week since I got the email from 34sp.com that the site was ‘live’, but it isn’t! I’ve sent them an email, yesterday, and I’ve only had an automated reply so far.

We went shopping in Ayr today – I bought myself a mobile phone. I hadn’t meant to, but B had topped up his phone credit, and remarked I should have dug out my old mobile and done the same. I’m not sure where my old mobile is – I haven’t used it in over two years, and I may well have thrown it out in the move. It was a heavy, clunky old thing anyway, and had lost its charger.
But, when we walked down the high street afterwards, I got to thinking that it would be good to have a mobile for the rare times I go out on my own. There’s a shop flogging mobiles practically every ten yards along that street, so we popped into the next one “just for a browse”; well I didn’t need one this minute, did I? No harm in looking at the prices, was there? Hah!
I hadn’t realised that mobile phone salesmen are all bastard sons of Mercury, equipped with stunning superpowers of persuasion! Which was why I walked out ten minutes later with a new phone.
It was the cheapest one, mind. And I did manage to stop the salesman from signing us up to their telephone and broadband service as well!

Just got back from seeing Doc G. I told him how I had stopped taking the beta-blockers altogether, and how much better I felt. And he was happy with that! He checked my BP, found it normal and told me it looked like I was doing things right!
Yes, I’m feeling so much better now. And I intend to keep on feeling well.

Dear God,

I wish to put in a complaint and I understand that you are the right department. My complaint is simple – I have been given the wrong body! As You well know, I was due for some R&R (having had a couple of rather stressful lifetimes), so before this latest rebirth, I specifically put in an order for the body of a Sex Object – five foot ten, long legs, red hair, green eyes, 36-24-36, the usual features – oh, and female, naturally. But that is clearly NOT what I have been given.
Yes, it has worked perfectly well, up till now. Indeed, it has spent years being of sterling service as a housewife and mother. However, it is not what what I ordered. Additionally, this body, besides being the wrong body, is now steadily breaking down – it is no longer self-repairing. In fact, it is no longer fit for its purpose! However, it appears that the warranty period has expired – and I was never informed that it had only a fifty-year repair warranty!
I wish to inform you that if this complaint of mine is not properly addressed, and a fully working replacement body issued, then I will be going elsewhere for my next body!

Yours,

It was one of those meandering late-night conversations.
Me: “It’s Monday tomorrow…”
B: “Yes, another Monday…”
Me: “Seen too many of those….”
But how many? I suddenly wondered. Grabbing a scrap of paper and my trusty pen, I started working it out. I’m 55 years old; 55 times 364 is 20020 days; 55 divided by 4 is 13-and-something, so add 13 days for leap years; 20033 days divided by 7 makes 2861 Mondays. Add on the 8 or so Mondays since my birthday and that makes 2869 (approx) Mondays that I’ve lived through.
I tell B this.
“Very interesting – but, um, why did you do that?”
Me: “Well – I like numbers. You know I do.”
B:”OK, clever clogs, how many weekends have you lived through?”
Me: “Half of that, of course – a weekend is two days – so it’s… “I grab the paper and squint at it. “…1434 weekends.”
B: “Oh no it’s not, it’s exactly the same number as Mondays!”
I do my impression of Homer Simpson trying to work out how many beers are in a six-pack, until B helps me out.
“Weekends only come round once a week, silly!….”
D’oh.
B:”….And you’re supposed to be the mathematical genius around here?”

That phrase was obviously thought up by somebody who had never experienced poverty. Yes, looked at logically and in isolation, it’s perfectly correct: Happiness is an intangible state and not a purchasable commodity. However, it’s a phrase that’s too often abused and misused. Too many people interpret it as “Money is incompatible with happiness”, which is nonsense; they are too entirely different things.
As Spike Milligan observed: “Money won’t buy you happiness – but with it, you can be miserable in comfort.”

Good old Doc G has increased the dosage of my beta-blockers – musing and burbling on philosophical matters while I walk home from the village shop must be one of the side-effects he was warning me about.

So off I went this morning to do my civic duty. My intention had been to walk there and back, to get some much-needed excercise. But B was parcelling up some Elfin Diary stuff that was due to be sent out today, had run out of parcel tape and was convinced that the parcels firm would arrive to pick it up before I got back. So I had a ride to the village, so he could get his tape quickly.
Voting was a solitary affair – just me and the two electoral officials. Taking my time, I carefully looked through the candidates. I much prefer positive voting – voting for a party or person, rather than against them. So, I made my choice and scrawled my great big X.
However, not for the first time, I was wishing I could also cast a negative vote as well, so that I could give one party the electoral equivalent of “Piss off back to the swamp you crawled out of, you fascist bastards!” These results of these negative votes could be reported alongside the positive votes, so that people could make their feelings totally clear.
It was raining when I started walking back home; once there, I found a couple of personal letters! One from the Labour candidate, one from the Tory candidate, both asking me very nicely to vote for them. Sorry lads – too late…..

There was also a phone call from somebody reminding me of an unpaid bill that I had forgotten all about. So that’s most of my cash already gone, before I’ve had a chance to spend it on computer parts.

Sigh 🙁