Winks
(or short web links, if you prefer)
- Honesty not always the best policy
- PHP basics [Warning: Bash.org is usually NSFW, although this quote's ok]
- Narfolk goes woireless
A warning (while I remember)
The packet says:
TESCO
~~~~~
All natural
crisps
with pure sunflower oil
50%
less fat
than standard crisps
Zero added salt
They left off:
Zero taste.
Never have kids. Especially step-kids.
Having texted Grunt that I’d meet him in St Martins at two, I arrived in Perth according to plan at high noon (although I was unaware of just how appropriate that timing would be), collected the floral display I’d ordered over the phone yesterday and headed off to St Martins for some time alone there.
Some time later, I headed off for a drive and found that St Martins churchyard is clearly a coverage-free area for O2/Tesco users - not much demand, I suppose. Thanks, btw, Anni, Rosa and Shazza for their thoughts.
Back at St Martins I met Grunt at the graveside (having learnt from experience the frustration that is waiting for him outside his flat - see last year’s post for a typical example).
He was actually only 25 minutes late - I was wrongly impressed. He was perfectly pleasant (for him) as we chatted for a while and suggested we head into the Fair City so that he could buy me a drink.
“Ah’ll meet ye’ in the Foondry in fifteen minnits.”
He sped off (in Diana’s Clio, I feel I should add) and I pootled off behind him.
I still got “The Foundry” before him and, rather than loiter suspiciously, bought my own drink. With hindsight, I’m glad I did so.
We took a table outside and sipped our ginger beers1
“So, what’s happenening with the rest of mum’s estate?”
“Pardon?”
“Well, Granny left x thousand and there’s the money mum had in the house in Scoon.”
I was speechless but spluttered: “x thousand!? Where on earth did you get that idea?”
He muttered about Diana having told him that (which I find surprising), and added: “I really need to get out of The Ghetto.”
I counted to ten under my breath, conceding that the tenement in which he currently resides does lack a certain je ne sais quoi
“Ah’m entitled to a third.”
I stared at him.
“Ah’ve got a friend. Who’s a solicitor. He advised me.”
I remained silent.
“Legally, ah’m due a third.”
…
“Legally, mind.”
“So you need more of your Granny’s money now.”
“More?”
“You were given half the money for the flat you’re currently living in. Where do you think that came from?”
“Err no, no. Ah’m no forgetting that. Look - ah don’t want to fall out with yous or ha’ tae go to solicitors or anything.”
A little late for that, laddie. “Ok, I understand.”
Our discussion continued with my answers getting shorter and shorter. For someone who seems to make a habit of getting into ’situations’ he’s appallingly illiterate as far as body language is concerned (although that could well be why he’s always getting into scrapes).
I’m not sure how I managed to keep my temper and avoided raising my voice to my beloved step-son (let alone bouncing his forehead off the table, the flagstones and/or the hefty stone walls of the pub) but let’s just say we parted soon afterwards. I’m going to investigate finances and the like but if I find there is anything that he can have now, he’s only going to get it on the legal binding condition that our paths will never, ever cross again.
Don’t get me wrong - I don’t begrudge him his due share of his inheritance but to choose today of all days to raise the subject leaves me flabberghasted. He’ll get an appropriate share (less any advance) of my own estate but not a penny more than that.
I’d investigate alternatives along the lines of a reliable (and cheap) hitman but, given the company he keeps, “transactions” hinted at in conversations and his demonstrated inability to recognise when his inability to shut up is risking his health, I don’t think I need to bother.
I’ve waited a while before writing this (it’s now a quarter to eleven), but don’t seem to be losing my “fizz”. To say that I am livid is a distinct understatement. So livid that I immediately indulged myself in a short, sharp bout of retail therapy.
But enough about ingrateful little oiks.
This was my third visit back to St Martins and on each occasion I’ve contacted young Croila beforehand to see whether or not she was interested in meeting up for a good auld natter. On each of the previous occasions she’s had to decline the invitation for one reason or another (all sounded plausible enough to me at the time 
). I was rather surprised when this time she indicated that a meet was, indeed, on the cards!
Except, of course, we’d not allowed for unforeseen circumstances.
Oh well - maybe next time.
Going too far
Car A leaves Norwhag at 17:32.
For the first two hours, the car averages 45 miles per hour, rising to 55 miles per hour between 19:30 and 20:30.
(a) If the driver arrived at his destination (250 miles from Norwhag) at 21:52, what was his average speed from when he got onto the M62?
(b) How much faster could he have travelled had he not been exceedingly naughty and had text conversations with Tall Andy and Stubby (and a brief exchange with Croila) en route?
The conversation with Stubby in full:
Have a good bob about on the water and wish me luck - I’m about to face the A17!
Hope your journey is ok!Hope your dad is as right as u can hope
Thanks, but I’m actually off to Diana’s grave for tomorrow’s anniversary.
Oh shit! Totally forgot so sorry! And u told me monday as well. I am so sorry i forgot! Will think of u
Don’t worry about it - your scattiness is endearing
That would b good. I am sorry! Really should have been more thought full and remembered that
I said don’t worry about it. Our lunch date on Monday gives me something to look forward to on what’s likely to be a tough weekend, so thanks for that.
Well 4 what its worth i’ll b here if u need someone. Realise it must b difficult weekend
For what it’s worth I’d rather you were here with me (or, even better, I was going sailing with you tomorrow). Some other time, perhaps.
No response.
No, I’m not.
One of the things we did in our Away Day was to go through the results of a Myers-Briggs test we all did a while ago.
I came out as an “INTJ”
That’s rubbish, I thought (and expressed this view). I’ve been online this evening to prove my point.
HumanMetrics.com also have me as an INTJ (Mastermind Rational or Introverted iNtuitive Thinking Judging).
Sonja’s Linguistic Surrealscape has me pegged as an “ISFJ” (which is just plain silly).
No, no, no, no, no.
Bloginality claims I’m an “ISTP“.
Why can’t any of them they tell I’m an “INTP“?
Didn’t we have a lovely time?
Well, what can I say? Two nights in a cheap TravelLodge with no air conditioning in the centre of London in temperatures approaching 40ºC and another twisted ankle (well, the same ankle twisted yet again) were not the highlights of the trip.
When I left you on Monday I’d forgotten to amuse you with my Tale Of Woe from the previous evening.
As midnight approached hot’n’sweaty Aaalburgh I began to worry about not waking up in time to catch my train. Not being with BT any longer, I knew I couldn’t use their service so I looked online and found Tele Wake-Up.
I clicked their “I want a sample” and entered my mobile’s number, noting their statement:
Your test call will arrive in the next five minutes
I waited.
And waited.
I then realised that clearly they don’t provide this service that late at night to avoid being complicit in prank calls and so tried to sleep.
At five past one the phone rang with some “humourous” message intended, I suspect, to show their efficiency combined with a sense of humour. I didn’t see the joke.
Needless to say I’ll not be subscribing to their service if the time of the call is subject to a margin of error of +/- 60 minutes!
I made my train, though, changed at Chavtown and found Nice Married Lady (my travelling companion for the day) sat in First Class.
“A single to Leeds, please.“, I’d asked when the conductress arrived.
“Fifty three pounds, please,” she joked in return.
“Ah, but there isn’t any first class available between Norwhag and Peterborough.”
“I know. That isn’t the first class fare.”
Eek.
Changing at Peterborough, we got into Coach F as NML had a reserved seat. It was a little on the warm side. Very much so, in fact, and I commented once or twice on the temperature.
We met the third member of our group on the platform in Leeds and found out that she’d been on the same train … in coach C … where the air conditioning had been working nicely. Grrrr.
After the episode described in my previous post I got to the TravelLodge at about a quarter to seven to find two messages on my phone. The voice mail from from Tall Andy, asking me to call him when I arrived. The text was from Mr Hassle, asking where I was and suggesting I contact him on my arrival.
I called T.A., explained my location and he said he’d be over to fetch me. This worried me, but I let it pass.
I then replied to Mr Hassle’s text and got the reply “Tall Andy’s on his way to fetch you.”
“With his sense of direction? Are you mad?”
Fortunately, T.A. hadn’t been sent off alone. Les was acting as sherpa on the trek - quite why they’d gone so far from the hotel when they knew I was due to arrive is, well, never mind.
All went well until yesterday evening during our amble back to the hotel along the South Bank. Outside the film place I failed to notice that there were adjacent two cobbles missing and, of course, went over on my left ankle. It’s always my left ankle - one of these days it’s not going to be just a twist, I know. Still, at least it’s my clutch foot rather than my accelerator/brake foot - I hate to think how uncomfortable tomorrow evening’s drive would be otherwise.
Apostrophe thieves!
Still, I’m back in Aaalburgh now, if only for a night. Time to unpack and repack the overnight bag and skim through my mail.
Free WiFi on GNER trains
Well, on some trains at least and I don’t know for how long the offer’s going to last (or even for how long the free trial gives me online for that matter).
That said, when they’re changing £70.80 for a single (A SINGLE!) from Leeds to London I think the least they could do would be to throw in WiFi for free for the length of the journey,
Tall Andy won’t be pleased - the cost of my round trip is already over £120 and I’ve not made arrangements to get home to Aaalburgh yet.
He texted me asking how the meeting had gone (mindful, I’m sure, of my reputation for “plain speaking”). In fact the meeting went better than expected as I only laughed at the customer partner once (when he suggested they would very keen to know the average cost of other partners’ policies underwritten by EO..
“Ha, ha, ha, Yes, I’m sure you would.”
It seems he was being serious.
Given the choice of running for the train (with no guarantee that we’d actually make it and bearing in mind that I’d have had to queue for a ticket before boarding), I left my travelling companions to the running about in the sunshine lark and decided to amble for the 16:05 instead. This also means that I won’t be hitting Kings’ Cross between 5 and 6pm and that I get to have a very attractive young lady sat next to me for the next hour and fifty minutes (we’re just pulling into Doncaster and she’s making no sign of disembarking).
Tall Andy: I may be later than planned at the hotel
I’ll be a bit quiet for a few days
It’s going to be a busy week.
I catch the 7:56 train tomorrow heading for deepest Yorkshire - to Leeds in fact. From there, a mere couple of hours after arriving, I head south for the Big Smoke and two nights away from home. I’ll be back in Aaalburgh on Thursday evening before setting off for Bonnie Scotland on Friday evening.
Wish me luck!