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Take a seat in my dream kitchen
Jan. 4th, 2016 02:05 pm( Our cooker is broken )
So we've decided to replace the cooker.
This year, for reasons too dull to contemplate, I have to file a tax return. I don't usually do them, it's ages since I've done one, and I don't like it. However!
Yesterday, I found my P60. It was where it was meant to be, in the Big Black Filing Box. This morning, I located annual interest statements. They were where they were meant to be in the BBFB, too. This evening, I sought and found my '11-'12 notice of coding. Hat trick!
Those of you of a naturally organised disposition may not realise what a total triumph this is.
Go, go, Big Black Filing Box!
Right. I'm now done being a sensible grownup, and me and my pint of IPA are going to watch the snooker. In a riotous and juvenile manner.
Yesterday, I found my P60. It was where it was meant to be, in the Big Black Filing Box. This morning, I located annual interest statements. They were where they were meant to be in the BBFB, too. This evening, I sought and found my '11-'12 notice of coding. Hat trick!
Those of you of a naturally organised disposition may not realise what a total triumph this is.
Go, go, Big Black Filing Box!
Right. I'm now done being a sensible grownup, and me and my pint of IPA are going to watch the snooker. In a riotous and juvenile manner.
A boring request: does anyone live in an area, or organise their life, such that they are likely to be going to Lakeside IKEA in the reasonably near future?
If anyone meets those criteria, and feels they are either likely or willing to meet up with me sometime thereafter, could they pick something small(ish) up for me, please?
( Details )
If anyone meets those criteria, and feels they are either likely or willing to meet up with me sometime thereafter, could they pick something small(ish) up for me, please?
( Details )
We met face to face, but never eye to eye
Mar. 26th, 2012 02:40 pmSome time ago, I reached the age where I realised I didn't know my age. If asked (which, let's face it, doesn't happen all that often) I'm forced to remember what year it is, subtract my birth year, and work out whether I've had a birthday or not recently in order to answer.
It seems such a far cry from the days when anyone was able, and even eager, to give their age; when the half-years and the quarter-years were jealously accrued. Six and three-quarters was babyish, but seven? Seven meant being allowed to walk to Pierremont Road shop by yourself[*].
When I was small, I'd be given my apples cored and cut up, sliced into pieces on a plate. And one day, presumably before I went to school, though I don't know exactly when, I was deemed to have the years, dexterity and teeth necessary to be given my apple whole. To just, like, bite into willy-nilly. I remember distinctly that this was a very grown up thing to do, and quite an achievement.
Accordingly, it's taken me over thirty years to admit that actually, I quite like my apples cored and cut up into pieces. And, if I'm dead honest, and if location, situation and cutlery allow, I would rather have them that way. I've been secretly slicing my apples up for some time. Today I boldly borrowed a knife from a colleague and chopped my lunchtime apple up at my desk. I reckon I'm big enough to eat my food like a baby if I choose.
Apples are much nicer like that, you know :)
[*] Actually, I have absolutely no idea at what age I was allowed to walk to Pierremont Road shop by myself, although I remember it was an exciting milestone. The shop isn't even there any more, bought up by a rival shop-owner and converted to a private house years ago.
It seems such a far cry from the days when anyone was able, and even eager, to give their age; when the half-years and the quarter-years were jealously accrued. Six and three-quarters was babyish, but seven? Seven meant being allowed to walk to Pierremont Road shop by yourself[*].
When I was small, I'd be given my apples cored and cut up, sliced into pieces on a plate. And one day, presumably before I went to school, though I don't know exactly when, I was deemed to have the years, dexterity and teeth necessary to be given my apple whole. To just, like, bite into willy-nilly. I remember distinctly that this was a very grown up thing to do, and quite an achievement.
Accordingly, it's taken me over thirty years to admit that actually, I quite like my apples cored and cut up into pieces. And, if I'm dead honest, and if location, situation and cutlery allow, I would rather have them that way. I've been secretly slicing my apples up for some time. Today I boldly borrowed a knife from a colleague and chopped my lunchtime apple up at my desk. I reckon I'm big enough to eat my food like a baby if I choose.
Apples are much nicer like that, you know :)
[*] Actually, I have absolutely no idea at what age I was allowed to walk to Pierremont Road shop by myself, although I remember it was an exciting milestone. The shop isn't even there any more, bought up by a rival shop-owner and converted to a private house years ago.
Do you understand, do you feel the same ?
Jan. 27th, 2010 01:04 pmSo, when we moved into this flat last year, the central heating wasn't working. I googled around and found a small, local, family-run firm which specialises in Ideal boilers (a friendly plumber having advised that our particular model of boiler was a bit of a problem-child that might need a specialist). Someone popped round and fixed it under an hour, having produced the replacement part from the van.
( Today they came to service the boiler )
The short version is if you live in West London and require Stuff done with your boiler, I highly recommend these people:
http://www.heatcaresouth.co.uk/
( Today they came to service the boiler )
The short version is if you live in West London and require Stuff done with your boiler, I highly recommend these people:
http://www.heatcaresouth.co.uk/
