tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71690362024-03-07T18:43:43.938+00:00Demob happy teacherLife in north east England (yes, we've moved!) with an eccentric Welshman and a small white dog that thinks he's a Rottweiler.Jennytchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621488409334115930noreply@blogger.comBlogger1471125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169036.post-1588060107963209622022-10-01T14:03:00.001+01:002022-10-01T14:03:12.905+01:00Plaster board and dustSo, we're still no further forward on the British Gas smart meter front and I've given up making non-existent appointments with them for now, but Keith has been working away on the walls of the kitchen, which were panelled à la Seventies and then painted white, except for a built in cupboard where the interior panels had been left in that fetching orange-brown colour so beloved of householders in the seventies.<a href=""></a><blockquote>
</blockquote><div>I have to say, it has been quite cathartic ripping the wood off the walls and flattening the myriad of protruding nails ready for the trip to the tip, although I was not allowed to do any of the ripping, being relegated to the nail-flattening. Nor am I allowed to use the electric saw (or any saw, in fact) on the longer pieces of wood. Keith definitely needs to work on his delegating skills and I need to join a wood-ripping union.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtyXYtY8r5wtON-XzCgl2AV4ItMGPjUEAJ8CqcHQDDPSrKEh4HrhrcIvBNxjPUspHjM7pv5EQcrZdcHWc3QD3sLEBWc8sL_GZHNldAY8z6egp9zUk60ckVfwp5wr9uKiF2_2SoC-OlwFb5F-fGVeiYhTbNJ68v9BprY84n_AcO5g3mJC2n9w/s4032/IMG_0530.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtyXYtY8r5wtON-XzCgl2AV4ItMGPjUEAJ8CqcHQDDPSrKEh4HrhrcIvBNxjPUspHjM7pv5EQcrZdcHWc3QD3sLEBWc8sL_GZHNldAY8z6egp9zUk60ckVfwp5wr9uKiF2_2SoC-OlwFb5F-fGVeiYhTbNJ68v9BprY84n_AcO5g3mJC2n9w/w300-h400/IMG_0530.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ-oH3Te603ewcIcYZZqA2R_vININcz5ZN2g3D-FLg8iH9wCIgwh3mXS9X6QRSwiw7CN5MfDU-HJOXPlBy166zZTsl_MpSDfRR5g6BQnaATalKIFHZE7QXaBWPm6YjXYwcp30-HRXVbLk5lQVRDh1QiOPBgeAjO477_4oZZgicQOErI1ETJQ/s4032/IMG_0531.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ-oH3Te603ewcIcYZZqA2R_vININcz5ZN2g3D-FLg8iH9wCIgwh3mXS9X6QRSwiw7CN5MfDU-HJOXPlBy166zZTsl_MpSDfRR5g6BQnaATalKIFHZE7QXaBWPm6YjXYwcp30-HRXVbLk5lQVRDh1QiOPBgeAjO477_4oZZgicQOErI1ETJQ/w300-h400/IMG_0531.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>However, the walls have nearly all been battened now and covered with plaster board, prior to having a skim of plaster ready for painting in due course.</div><div>We also now have a new double wall cupboard to replace the orange, built in ones and pretty soon, Keith will be expecting a constant stream of gourmet meals because I will have a top notch kitchen in which to produce them. This could be a bit of a double edged sword, as I'm not too keen on spending my future life in the kitchen, but it will be a relief to have somewhere that is clean, hygienic and looks good.</div><div>I think we can probably say that we are getting there, albeit taking the scenic route but there you are, Rome was not built in a day!<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeKm-j9Y8lINspC1-4egqZRkFMTnv1cXMUtL-vLBaqonbeXGcHIub1peZLlC4g8JtyCvKavnbLGqBqkQDxmV7QioyKNn-fx_2-zBTMJu86T2ZBR8wtF6N3EkIFEgrs3VKVo9EQ1BZI1TbAktsXnYtAo4bmCedkP1oKMbvHqnv9IA18niWHjw/s4032/IMG_0519.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeKm-j9Y8lINspC1-4egqZRkFMTnv1cXMUtL-vLBaqonbeXGcHIub1peZLlC4g8JtyCvKavnbLGqBqkQDxmV7QioyKNn-fx_2-zBTMJu86T2ZBR8wtF6N3EkIFEgrs3VKVo9EQ1BZI1TbAktsXnYtAo4bmCedkP1oKMbvHqnv9IA18niWHjw/w300-h400/IMG_0519.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><br /></div>Jennytchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621488409334115930noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169036.post-9285810246965238502022-09-11T21:19:00.002+01:002022-09-11T21:28:03.313+01:00British Gas hide and seekOne of my 'moving house' tasks was to ask British Gas to fit smart meters in our new house. We'd had them in the last house, albeit with a series of problems before they would actually work properly but hey! I thought, what could be more fun than spending the forthcoming winter watching the dial go round and telling us how much money we are burning?<div>The appointment was booked for 30th July and the engineer duly turned up, not just on time but a couple of hours early, having rung beforehand to check there would be someone at home. (You see, British Gas, you can get it right when you try!) He fitted the electric meter and then informed us that he couldn't do the gas one as he didn't have the right connection.</div><div>"But it's all-right, I'll just get the job re-booked," he assured us before going on his merry way.</div><div>A fortnight passed. No-one came, no-one contacted us, nothing happened, so I went online to book an appointment myself, which I was able to do very easily. On the days before August 25th, I received the usual flurry of texts and emails -</div><div> <i>'We're coming soon'. </i></div><div><i>Did you know we're coming soon?'</i></div><div><i>'Bet you're really pleased we're coming soon, but if you cancel us on the day or even the day before, we'll charge you £30."</i></div><div><i>"Oh but let us know if you have Covid and we won't come."</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>August 25th dawned. The appointment 'window' was between 1-5pm. </div><div>We waited. Time didn't wait. The clock ticked along until a text pinged into my phone at 4.30pm.</div><div><br /></div><div><i>'Actually, we won't be coming after all. We forgot to check but we don't seem to have any spare engineers. Silly us! Oh and we can't book you another appointment either. Yes, We know, annoying ... but we'll let you know when we can.'</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>So that was the first half day wasted.</div><div>I went online and found that I could re-book the appointment quite easily, so I did, for last Thursday afternoon.</div><div>(To save me repeating myself, may I invite you to read the above procedure again as, lo and behold, that is what happened last Friday too. Second half day wasted.</div><div>This time, I decided to take to Twitter @British Gas to 'explain' my dissatisfaction and sure enough, I got a reply, asking me to message the details so the they could look into what had happened.</div><div>This time, the person I was messaging made the next appointment for me, for yesterday afternoon.</div><div>Bound to turn up this time, I thought.</div><div>However ... yes, you've guessed it. </div><div>A third afternoon wasted.</div><div>To add insult to injury, I got a text today asking me for feedback on how they had dealt with my issue and how I felt they could improve my experience further.</div><div><br /></div><div>Yes, readers - I told them!<br /><a href=""></a><blockquote>
</blockquote><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Jennytchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621488409334115930noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169036.post-17726687625252883422022-09-08T20:45:00.002+01:002022-09-11T21:28:31.356+01:00A job well doneApologies for the few days of silence again, but as you will appreciate, having the house rewired means that electricity supply is intermittent which means that broadband is too. (Yes, more withdrawal symptoms!)<a href=""></a><blockquote>
</blockquote><div>Zurab came to look over the house and then sent us a quote. He was going to be able to start the job on 31st August but first he had a short holiday with his family. "They will kill me if I don't go," he explained. We agreed that would probably be a step too far but even so, he still called in on the afternoon of 29th to check a couple of things. </div><div>Coming from Georgia, it was fascinating to hear Zurab and his team, consisting of his son and his brother, shouting to each other in Georgian and then switching to English to say something to us. (Zurab also mentioned that he had been educated in Russian from year 11.) Time and time again, mainland Europeans put us Brits to shame with a command of different languages that is taken for granted. There is the added advantage that if you speak two or more languages, you are less likely to suffer from dementia in later life, but I never got round to mentioning that to them. </div><div>So for the first couple of days, we took ourselves off to Claire's house but then Keith began to get restless so we stayed put, which allowed him to potter about in his office and garage, as long as he kept out of the way of the workers. During the course of the week, there were of course, sighs, groans and sharp intakes of breath as various idiosyncrasies were discovered - the house had, after all, been running 90% on extension leads - and tracking down the sources of various cables and leads would probably have kept Sherlock Holmes busy for a few days. We may need to set up a stall at a car boot sale to get rid of all the extensions!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn9WMFlpp3Tbmkb3ETUxSSCIAIoli-p_ZzIKfHQGxIFq_rqMTHD6x6XNyPDierCRcaGrrh6sBmRq5SbZUSgwoGaItzgsq_ERu-4DglI3D-IizlbMKXDKtMZLWZFqOiqTDH8Y3lCx-6dhWl6lQkzwRYlTiEUw2flxZ2K8aEzPZsv9NlMMVbDw/s4032/IMG_0505.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn9WMFlpp3Tbmkb3ETUxSSCIAIoli-p_ZzIKfHQGxIFq_rqMTHD6x6XNyPDierCRcaGrrh6sBmRq5SbZUSgwoGaItzgsq_ERu-4DglI3D-IizlbMKXDKtMZLWZFqOiqTDH8Y3lCx-6dhWl6lQkzwRYlTiEUw2flxZ2K8aEzPZsv9NlMMVbDw/w480-h640/IMG_0505.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZFAutpHX-j_5zBQPFKXhuSwaqqQ2kY9xP5hnL6_g_pXLsOf7NQw0FJ59xYZC-Gj3jY-CRCVcPxXi-0GrfR7We0wA9ocPaKsJ52dXLBx3OE5BayH3LuEUBbu3AOEVxiOSGuaybH-bVwhoftFacef_OLkGcCBFOhmtVWA-G1E64TqbIzqB8KQ/s4032/IMG_0507.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZFAutpHX-j_5zBQPFKXhuSwaqqQ2kY9xP5hnL6_g_pXLsOf7NQw0FJ59xYZC-Gj3jY-CRCVcPxXi-0GrfR7We0wA9ocPaKsJ52dXLBx3OE5BayH3LuEUBbu3AOEVxiOSGuaybH-bVwhoftFacef_OLkGcCBFOhmtVWA-G1E64TqbIzqB8KQ/w480-h640/IMG_0507.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /></div><div>And so the work continued and each day more holes in walls appeared but so too did more electric sockets - what joy! Somewhere to charge laptop, mobile, iPad, even somewhere to do the ironing without dragging the ironing board halfway through the house. Each evening, Keith and I would remind each other that that was another day done and it would all be worth it in the end, but what made the experience far less stressful than it could have been was the unfailing cheerfulness of Zurab and his team. He and Keith in particular really hit it off and could have talked for hours about electronics, IT, engineering - all the things they shared an interest in.</div><div>Now we have been able to tick that job off the list, the biggest and most invasive, but one that we couldn't have delayed and it feels so much better to have it done. So, all that is left now is:</div><div>finishing the kitchen, finishing the downstairs toilet, updating the bathroom, altering the en-suite shower room, insulating the conservatory roof, insulating the garage as a workshop ...</div><div>Well, Keith does like to be busy!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Jennytchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621488409334115930noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169036.post-50172969588587733992022-08-30T20:07:00.000+01:002022-09-11T21:28:59.613+01:00One step forward ...Did I say we had a plumber waiting in the wings? Silly me. In the time honoured way of many, though not all, of our tradesmen, this one apparently vanished into thin air. No promised quote was forthcoming, no answer to my subsequent text either. This was someone who had done three jobs for Claire and who we therefore thought would be a fairly safe bet, but it was not to be. I found another one, who came to case the joint one Saturday morning. I did have some slight misgivings about this one, mainly because he couldn't find the address, in spite of having the postcode and detailed directions which no-one else seemed to need and when I walked up the road to find him and told him to take the next turn on the left, he decided that left actually meant right and was on his way down the turning opposite ours before noticing me waving frantically behind him.<a href=""></a><blockquote>
</blockquote><div>Once again, silence reigned after his visit and again, my follow up text went unanswered. Time for plumber number three.</div><div>"Can I just ask you," said Keith when the bathroom tour was finished, "If you don't want the job or can't fit it in, could you please let us know? We've had two other plumbers who said they would give us quotes and we haven't heard from them again."</div><div>Plumber number three assured us he would certainly send us a quote and made a careful note of my email address.</div><div>Fast forward two days and plumber number two decided to get in touch after all and send us his quote. It was not wonderful but then he had come armed with a glossy catalogue of bathroom suites and everything else you could need or want in a bathroom.</div><div>"I think we could do it ourselves, you know," said Keith. "It's pretty straightforward." </div><div>He had already decided that he would be able to do the downstairs toilet himself and had bought the toilet, wash basin, tiles etc and as for the en suite, we had decided that we would just take out the toilet, move the wash basin and finish tiling and decorating in there rather than getting rid of it, so this could be the logical next step ... </div><div>Anyway, before that, we have the re wiring, which will begin tomorrow morning. Now here, we have struck gold. We have a brilliant electrician and his team who will be on our doorstep tomorrow at 8am, but there will be more to tell on that next time.</div>Jennytchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621488409334115930noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169036.post-69482772034677425502022-08-23T16:09:00.004+01:002022-09-11T21:29:26.581+01:00More jobsWell, if all goes smoothly, our electrician should be starting work at the end of this month and before we know it, we will have plug sockets which are a) convenient and b) useable and we won't have to switch on the Bakelite light switch under the stairs for the hall light switch to work. <a href=""></a><blockquote>
</blockquote><div>Speaking of under the stairs, first impressions were of something akin to the black hole of Calcutta. We had talked of putting a cloakroom there, just a toilet and wash hand basin but hadn't really planned to do it any time soon. However, the eighties bathroom seemed to be begging to be updated and the ensuite to be removed altogether, so we thought it might be a good idea to bite the bullet and do it all.</div><div>When I say do it all, we have a plumber waiting in the wings, with attendant tiler, so they will take care of the bathroom and, hopefully the ensuite, but apart from dealing with the plumbing bits, Keith has decided to undertake the downstairs toilet himself.</div><div>.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNVstNE7M8RcGB4we95wfuPWfW44tuhrP95wQkIpHwYFUWdGsxFmslJvRJQTu7kedTNU1n-thCibRmWgz2rpS8njrIKrhPk_IDu7hOKkNOhddVIAB_ixWWAsTgsBjzUBone6JrElp_RnbLhqUBPhORLMq30lhEiIoIamZ34IuoLoxt13CMFQ/s4032/IMG_0482.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNVstNE7M8RcGB4we95wfuPWfW44tuhrP95wQkIpHwYFUWdGsxFmslJvRJQTu7kedTNU1n-thCibRmWgz2rpS8njrIKrhPk_IDu7hOKkNOhddVIAB_ixWWAsTgsBjzUBone6JrElp_RnbLhqUBPhORLMq30lhEiIoIamZ34IuoLoxt13CMFQ/w480-h640/IMG_0482.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>For some reason it had an extra wide doorway and a bi-fold door so the plan was to replace that with a normal doorway and door. However, Keith then decided that the 'wall' under the stairs, which would form the side wall of the toilet, needed replacing.<div>So that has been our main occupation over the past week, plus buying and putting up a small garden shed because, although Keith now has an office AND a whole garage, there is no room for my garden tools, lawnmower, strimmer etc. (I know! Unbelievable!)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs7WdymGqUdye7HczKy3BM3afGebjZfxJc_5aevS3oCC4WXiH3bKpUFGtdY8u2ZY3YDhEoUCK-z2zd-DIjREK1MjR9GDGtxqirosLymwSEXngVVhKpI0tAewrWAJLjOj3NlXIix7ov3JwAGm6iq6H0rFMj_wqGXJLAgPySayNf5iuRhk8awg/s4032/IMG_0479.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs7WdymGqUdye7HczKy3BM3afGebjZfxJc_5aevS3oCC4WXiH3bKpUFGtdY8u2ZY3YDhEoUCK-z2zd-DIjREK1MjR9GDGtxqirosLymwSEXngVVhKpI0tAewrWAJLjOj3NlXIix7ov3JwAGm6iq6H0rFMj_wqGXJLAgPySayNf5iuRhk8awg/w480-h640/IMG_0479.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxN4UpnonOTOIYDxFDzZ2LsLhSN9kyyZ-mSLYJob-CRTMT-XWUSaB4aWQqmW8yVPgFqhpAiTn5z1xTU7NhMj9xRVRbwcm4j3BXHmua0HO8LN1zEfE6lju0Ux30PJ3_QEI16d-m47IA76Vga5B5E1YIVhxoVZ5CnWvEqhQBvYZAH2xG85pN5A/s4032/IMG_0480.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxN4UpnonOTOIYDxFDzZ2LsLhSN9kyyZ-mSLYJob-CRTMT-XWUSaB4aWQqmW8yVPgFqhpAiTn5z1xTU7NhMj9xRVRbwcm4j3BXHmua0HO8LN1zEfE6lju0Ux30PJ3_QEI16d-m47IA76Vga5B5E1YIVhxoVZ5CnWvEqhQBvYZAH2xG85pN5A/w480-h640/IMG_0480.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>One reason Keith decided to start work on the understairs toilet was that the stairs were creaking - a lot. His plan was to have me walking up and down the stairs so that he could pinpoint the worst areas and then squirt glue in, helped by a few screws where needed. This was eventually what he did, but only after he had discovered that whoever had installed the extra wide doorway had been able to do so only by sawing off the top newel post just above the doorway.</div><div>Yes, instead of the door frame and post supporting the top stairs, it appeared that the stairs were supporting the door frame and post. Visions of us abseiling up to bed that night danced through my brain but fortunately, it didn't come to that and Keith was able to remedy the situation.</div><div>The man deserves a medal!</div><div><div><br /></div><div>Instead, I treated him to - an angle grinder. Doesn't everyone want one?</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWMa3UggI0Vyu-cupIIfQfbG05dhpD2xk2GGL8_rNdlXE9BA_-GkRRBbAnlRUvJHKL-XCwL5CKRlL5n7HZHIRPcCIDbLKcV9uk5aYRIImeRQMfcy8nirshXI4zroAVfMn8iuW1KAW9mteHT2dvyohPGJ3FwfuSz3CxQztbjP10u_dwpsUAuw/s4032/68293768752__F33A655E-6AB0-4D8C-A64F-53326C63EC5E.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWMa3UggI0Vyu-cupIIfQfbG05dhpD2xk2GGL8_rNdlXE9BA_-GkRRBbAnlRUvJHKL-XCwL5CKRlL5n7HZHIRPcCIDbLKcV9uk5aYRIImeRQMfcy8nirshXI4zroAVfMn8iuW1KAW9mteHT2dvyohPGJ3FwfuSz3CxQztbjP10u_dwpsUAuw/w480-h640/68293768752__F33A655E-6AB0-4D8C-A64F-53326C63EC5E.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div>Jennytchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621488409334115930noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169036.post-91188502811867617842022-08-18T20:17:00.002+01:002022-09-11T21:29:47.794+01:00We have the power!We hadn't been in the house long before we realised that there was a surfeit of electrical extension leads everywhere; the four-way or six-way ones which often come in useful when you want to plug in several electric items but find yourself with only one socket. These days, the need for places to plug in, charge up and access all sorts of electric appliances seems never to be satisfied and even in our twenty year old previous house, we never had quite enough. However, although back in the sixties, we were perfectly satisfied with a mere handful of sockets, fast forward to present day and that is no longer the case, not by a long chalk.<div>But still the full picture had not dawned on us. We rang an electrician and asked him to come and quote for installing more sockets.</div><div>He came, took one look at the consumer unit under the stairs and then there was a sharp intake of breath.</div><div>"Can't do that, I'm afraid, there's no earth suitable for the RDC trip here" - or words to that effect. As I wasn't even sure what a consumer unit was, he might as well have been speaking Russian.</div><div>It soon became clear though, that although the wiring was not actually dangerous, a re-wire was definitely needed.</div><div>A brief tour round the house followed to document what we wanted and what was needed.</div><div>You may be familiar with the story of a tourist asking a local for directions somewhere in Ireland.</div><div>"Well if I were you," the local man said, "I wouldn't start from here."</div><div>A variation of this followed in subsequent conversations with the electrician.</div><div>"If you had come to me before you moved in, I would have advised you to get the re-wiring done beforehand." Well, hindsight is a wonderful thing, but we are where we are, I thought.</div><div>But there was more.</div><div>Ideally we'd like you to move out and store your furniture somewhere while we do the work.</div><div>Bearing in mind the fact that I had just spent weeks packing and hadn't even finished unpacking here, I think my reply was reasonably polite and measured. It was along the lines of 'not a chance in hell, mate!'</div><div>There followed at least three conversations via text in which the electrician did his best to persuade us. His start date moved back a month and the quote increased by £1000 'because of all the extra time it will take us' and, to cut a long story a little shorter, we said good-bye to him and found ourselves someone else who doesn't need us to clear the house and can start at the end of this month.</div><div>In the meantime - don't trip over those extension leads ...!</div><div><br /><a href=""></a><blockquote>
</blockquote><div><br /></div></div>Jennytchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621488409334115930noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169036.post-68982862636608779122022-08-12T10:27:00.011+01:002022-09-11T21:30:05.783+01:00Surprises - and more surprisesOn our first night in our new home, we slept like the proverbial logs, although as we had a vertical blind but no curtains in the bedroom and it was still just the beginning of July, sunrise was early, which meant that Keith was up and ready to start the day at 4.45am. This was the beginning of a habit which has stayed with him over the intervening weeks. I, however, am made of sterner stuff and have managed to contain my energy and excitement until a much more acceptable six o'clock.<div>We knew that this house, built in 1960, would inevitably need some renovation. The Homebuyer's Survey had mentioned things like the flashing on the chimneys, gutter and drain cleaning and fence replacement and suggested that in the future, we might want to consider updating the kitchen and bathroom.</div><div>Fair enough, we thought but no rush, except that I would quite like a flexible tap for the kitchen sink. </div><div>It transpired, however, that, although the kitchen units looked fine on the outside, the murky interior depths were a different story. A good all-round description would be 'manky'. This kitchen was going to need somewhat more than a new tap for us to regard it as useable. Insult was further added to injury when I inspected the oven, for which even the term 'manky' would not be an adequate description. The fact that at our old house, I had almost climbed inside the oven to make sure I left it as spotless as a used oven can be, only added to my annoyance. </div><div>The state of the cooker meant we could treat ourselves to a new electric oven and gas hob (to replace the halogen one already there) except that, although there was a gas supply in the house for the central heating, someone had, in their wisdom, decided to completely remove all signs of it from the kitchen. There is a gas engineer working on restoring the connection as I write and until now, we have been making good use of our camping stove, bought years ago for our trips to France.</div><div>In the meantime, Keith has come into his own with all his DIY skills and we have now replaced almost all the units and worktops.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB4J3dNDI1rKOU6iSZwtHd-HAnLJ1HpL90usK0vJ98dQ06wS2-rVazk8o0AgZ7KBHTmW9H-xl9zVUj7lc8cZmLKPbIQDtcqjhPWpHUzfcY86LxYWCJlA7esDJ4vQlQTPMl1XOvad8sSYo1o7M9n2q6l9eFg5IvHq3HIKNfm55HPUax4x1lkQ/s4032/kitchen2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB4J3dNDI1rKOU6iSZwtHd-HAnLJ1HpL90usK0vJ98dQ06wS2-rVazk8o0AgZ7KBHTmW9H-xl9zVUj7lc8cZmLKPbIQDtcqjhPWpHUzfcY86LxYWCJlA7esDJ4vQlQTPMl1XOvad8sSYo1o7M9n2q6l9eFg5IvHq3HIKNfm55HPUax4x1lkQ/w480-h640/kitchen2.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">It's still a work in progress, mainly because of another 'surprise' we had, but that's for the next post.</span></div>Jennytchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621488409334115930noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169036.post-19698965372228566472022-08-03T11:29:00.005+01:002022-08-03T11:29:48.193+01:00Leaving and ArrivingThe removal firm we decided to use was a pretty reputable, mid range one and we contacted them quite a while before we had a removal date as we thought it would be wise to plan ahead because of all Keith's 'stuff'. If you are not aware of the amount of 'stuff' we are talking about, have a look at <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g4IUEaOC8QQ&t=17s" target="_blank">his YouTube channel</a> and you may get some idea. Suffice it to say that the contents of a workshop, his van and half a garden shed were not going to be easy to move, so the agreement with the removal company was that they would come the day before the move to pack up his workshop, store it overnight and come back the next day to load up the house contents.<div> However, it soon became clear, as Keith started to pack up some of the stuff, that further solutions would be needed. Men were dispatched several days before the move to collect what had now been offloaded into the conservatory and that was taken away to be stored.<a href=""></a><blockquote>
</blockquote></div><div>Two days before the move, the rest of Keith's stuff was taken, leaving only the house contents. Nearly home and dry, we thought.</div><div>"We'll be here at eight o'clock on the dot on Wednesday," said one of the men, leaving us in no doubt that an early start was planned for that day and we had better be ready. This van load was to be kept overnight in the removal company's facilities and driven up on the Thursday, which was our official moving day.</div><div>Wednesday morning dawned, last minute things were packed away and as much last minute cleaning done as possible.</div><div>Eight o' clock came and went, as did 8.30. When Keith and I rang, we were given different excuses: the men had 'checked in', the receptionist said, she had 'definitely seen them', followed later by,</div><div> 'There's a puncture on the van. They're just waiting to get it fixed."</div><div>To cut a long and boring story short, the crew (three men now instead of two) finally arrived at 10.30 and we worked out, using our Sherlock Holmes skills, that they had probably been doing another small job on the side before coming to us.</div><div>"We might be old but we're not stupid!" roared Keith, having told them and not being contradicted, that we just didn't buy the story of the puncture. </div><div>The foreman, who had decided to play it hale and hearty and 'what's all the fuss about?' visibly blenched and stepped back as he realised he needed to add a little contrition into the mix. </div><div>There followed fervent promises to pull out all the stops and get on the road by 1pm, which did actually happen but, as Keith said, a stressful day, bringing to an end nearly twenty years of living in that house, was made all the more stressful by the events of that morning.</div><div>However, the van departed and so did we. We stayed in a hotel that night (kindly arranged for us by Kathy and Claire) and got the keys for our new abode just as the removal van arrived, to be followed the following day by Keith's stuff. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlM1wWwEchpnM7wZ1pc1M8eVFFHbTYseh8ORz-C3_p8y2RBAGlhdXByl3MsjEhO935exsWR2wShUrqhmGN42Z6i3FWEgqNLHI7bBafAYULYPqKDv5OOaFf_gXBAB4UBh7c0nSk8E5B4wymKTrSRg15lD9lluhrO25H6HzFTpLXAODsUZZ_Zw/s2048/291389915_10166397974605023_7603646524541365616_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlM1wWwEchpnM7wZ1pc1M8eVFFHbTYseh8ORz-C3_p8y2RBAGlhdXByl3MsjEhO935exsWR2wShUrqhmGN42Z6i3FWEgqNLHI7bBafAYULYPqKDv5OOaFf_gXBAB4UBh7c0nSk8E5B4wymKTrSRg15lD9lluhrO25H6HzFTpLXAODsUZZ_Zw/w300-h400/291389915_10166397974605023_7603646524541365616_n.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>Keith now has an 'office' adjacent to the kitchen and a garage. Filling them both, as you can imagine, has not been difficult but filling them with the right things in the right places is still a work in progress.<br /><div><br /></div>Jennytchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621488409334115930noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169036.post-41523797629070837902022-08-02T11:46:00.004+01:002022-08-02T11:46:36.570+01:00Time for updates!Yes, I know. I came back and then disappeared again. Annoying, but hear me out ...<a href=""></a><blockquote>
</blockquote><div>If you have been wondering whether Keith and I had suddenly been dropped down a hole or vanished from the face of the earth, you wouldn't be far off the mark, especially if you consider those possibilities in internet terms. Before our move, Keith had done lots of investigations and discovered a few useful bits of information:</div><div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li> BT could not provide a broadband service in our new area any where near comparable to our existing one.</li><li>Therefore, instead of charging us for the remainder of our contract (£700) as they had initially threatened to do if we changed provider, they were forced to concede defeat and allow us to leave our contract with reasonably good grace.</li><li>This meant we could change to Virgin for broadband and TV (we had already left Sky TV) and get a very reasonable deal.</li><li>Our new house was already set up for Virgin, although the previous owner hadn't used it.</li></ul></div><div>Virgin said we would need an engineer to get us set up as the equipment already there was not up to date, so we ordered the TV box, modem etc plus an engineer to get us up and running.</div><div>As the big day approached, Keith was constantly getting encouraging texts for Virgin, including three offers of £150 to let the engineer come earlier than the arranged date, which he regretfully had to decline as the house would not yet be ours.</div><div>Moving day arrived (with its own problems, for a later post) and the following day, July 1st we were expecting our package of goodies plus engineer ...</div><div>The equipment arrived, plus more encouraging texts about the engineer, who sadly didn't.</div><div>After much to-ing and fro-ing of phone calls, it finally transpired that no engineer was available until four days later, so internet-wise, we were indeed down a black hole, made all the worse by the fact that there was no landline and the mobile phone signal, which we had been led to believe on their website was good, was pretty well none existent. Apparently the local mast had gone down and attempts to access it for repair were scuppered as the farmer on whose land it was, refused to let anyone near it, so the company were having to take him to court. Yes I know, you couldn't make it up.</div><div>All of this, however, made it abundantly and infuriatingly clear how much we depend on the internet and mobile phone network these days. If we had had a decent mobile signal, we could at least have done some of what we needed to do with a temporary dongle. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHjX9C7ygRvHONJfhfOQVYO5IkcOVLCLMKfBcTAbA2jVSp1MLzdpSnqQs137BEJQdpeZKS52ozVrpAm84Mlk7mHSqHWwhq8G5aHd1n7oftI65Sh74CJ1Ovq7sQiCcPZVIBijINXhlyFg-2sI-GfZWU16fGIT-dCVJh5DFEwSFnn77sxO1k5g/s4032/new%20house.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHjX9C7ygRvHONJfhfOQVYO5IkcOVLCLMKfBcTAbA2jVSp1MLzdpSnqQs137BEJQdpeZKS52ozVrpAm84Mlk7mHSqHWwhq8G5aHd1n7oftI65Sh74CJ1Ovq7sQiCcPZVIBijINXhlyFg-2sI-GfZWU16fGIT-dCVJh5DFEwSFnn77sxO1k5g/w480-h640/new%20house.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>Anyway, as you may by now have guessed, we are here, safely delivered and tomorrow the story will continue - hopefully! (This photo shows the view from the front garden of our house).</div><div><br /></div>Jennytchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621488409334115930noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169036.post-14859698119341020512022-06-27T10:33:00.000+01:002022-09-11T21:30:23.011+01:00Tiptoeing aheadWe have been quite lucky really. I have harassed our solicitor (who in turn harassed our seller's solicitor), got the Homebuyer's report back quickly (no awful problems this time), and the searches, which apparently can take forever in some council areas, were done very quickly and didn't produce any unwelcome news.<a href=""></a><blockquote>
</blockquote><div>Meanwhile, I carried on filling boxes and organising what was to go into them. I was reminded of a news item I once heard about someone who, throughout the many years he had lived there, had collected newspapers and magazines, stacking them up around the house as he ran out of room, until the only space he did have was a network of narrow walkways to enable him to get around the house. I think one of the TV drama series once featured a similar storyline but in that case, the character was crushed to death when the piles of papers fell on him. Well, we're not that bad yet, but this house is pretty compact, so the boxes are beginning to loom somewhat. </div><div>Since I wrote <a href="https://jennytc.blogspot.com/2022/06/chaos-and-confusion.html">this post</a>, contracts have been signed and exchanged and a completion date has been set.</div><div>I feel I want to throw my hat in the air and shout "Hurray!" as I write that but there's nobody here except Toby. Keith is outside hovering over the removal men who have come to collect the rest of the workshop contents (yes, they did come back!) and if you have ever seen a mother hen clucking over her chickens, that's Keith with his machinery.</div><div>This morning, I have carefully packed up my <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=apple+cinema+display+20&source=hp&ei=IHS5YrCzPNPzgAbWz73QBA&iflsig=AJiK0e8AAAAAYrmCMQprmuyzV3MSTZ6gK5Qo1qfT9HdG&oq=Apple+cinema&gs_lcp=Cgdnd3Mtd2l6EAEYBjILCAAQgAQQsQMQgwEyBQgAEIAEMgUIABCABDIFCAAQgAQyBQgAEIAEMgUIABCABDIFCAAQgAQyBQgAEIAEMgUIABCABDIFCAAQgAQ6EQguEIAEELEDEIMBEMcBENEDOhEILhCABBCxAxCDARDHARCjAjoLCC4QgAQQsQMQgwE6DgguEIAEELEDEMcBEKMCOggIABCABBCxAzoLCC4QgAQQxwEQrwE6FAguEIAEELEDEIMBEMcBEKMCENQCOggIABCxAxCDAVDIBVjeImC6QmgBcAB4AIABgwGIAdUHkgEEMTAuMpgBAKABAbABAA&sclient=gws-wiz" target="_blank">Apple Cinema Display</a> monitor, which dates from 2003 but which is still absolutely fantastic, and I shall be threatening the removal men with severe consequences if anything happens to it. :)</div><div>Meanwhile, things are beginning to move elsewhere!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1OtWnmqsr2vXNxpZ4Hbid_I0R4vXwR1rBTHF-uAfoeL_q3lg_Cls0EiUb_hK-3emosTPvM6BMy3-bDmecmMqJA2jWv1XRajoTf4AHtW1wg4p5AH1tqZc4fBTbBMh-61a5GDlgUi6R_9evrZUu-UMHMhDmSLmbqOY3kxKNuMgWvYEvMPpNaA/s3143/desk2.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3143" data-original-width="3021" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1OtWnmqsr2vXNxpZ4Hbid_I0R4vXwR1rBTHF-uAfoeL_q3lg_Cls0EiUb_hK-3emosTPvM6BMy3-bDmecmMqJA2jWv1XRajoTf4AHtW1wg4p5AH1tqZc4fBTbBMh-61a5GDlgUi6R_9evrZUu-UMHMhDmSLmbqOY3kxKNuMgWvYEvMPpNaA/w616-h640/desk2.heic" width="616" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Could it be that we are getting there?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /><div><br /></div>Jennytchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621488409334115930noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169036.post-85863905169598354232022-06-22T09:53:00.001+01:002022-09-11T21:30:36.004+01:00Is this the one?<div><br /></div>The area was quite near Claire's but not near enough for us to be in each other's pockets and, according to her extensive investigations, was quiet, near to countryside and walking areas for Toby and was unlikely to be high risk for axe murderers knocking at the door, which had to be a plus. <div>It also fulfilled all the requirements that Keith had mentioned during our extensive searches. So it wasn't too near road noises, the garden was a reasonable size, there was a garage, so potential for a workshop, AND an 'office' in the house, which should by rights be a utility room for me, but I'm willing to concede that - for now. </div><div>The best selling point, as far as Keith was concerned was that, by dint of scrutinising Google Maps, he discovered that there is a very promising looking butcher/pie shop in the vicinity. Each to his own, I guess.<a href=""></a><blockquote>
</blockquote></div><div>And so began the process of putting in an offer, having it accepted, organising the <a href="https://www.rics.org/globalassets/rics-website/media/upholding-professional-standards/sector-standards/building-surveying/homebuyer-report-survey-valuation-description-and-standard-terms-of-engagement-rics.pdf" target="_blank">RICS Homebuyer's report</a> and attending to all the million and one other things involved with buying a house. </div><div>As our first potential purchase had been a non starter, our buyers were still waiting patiently for things to get underway, so I was anxious that this procedure would happen as quickly as possible, with the result that I wouldn't be at all surprised if I have at times been put on the 'Avoid this one!' list for harassing estate agent, solicitor, removal company ...</div><div>Keith began to 'sort out' his shed/workshop and with that came the realisation that what I have been telling him for years is true. He has FAR too much STUFF! Initially, he began packing it up and stacking it in the conservatory, but that was already housing stuff from the van, which had gone to auction.</div><div>Plan B was to put the contents of the conservatory in temporary storage with our removal company and then carry on emptying the shed. </div><div>I will just add that the removal men who drew the short straw and came to do this job deserve a medal for not taking one look and running up the road as fast as their legs would carry them.</div><div>Meanwhile, lots of sorting out was being done by me in the house and many boxes were being filled. However, one area still remained untouched:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBc_VWoWHiGpr2YA_5ztSNCyOHXk-uf029BgVxoJnwEVkjyOQp2siz9_86r6NZldGfTNZDHr4Snc92IHsO4fwgn3mg9r-24nZnKx6FkCh4ytoaDcaT7UOmVV50b_iyHkfVGyrTIUlk0rFoBsdIvcmbPxBw5wqGIBjs4vuTaKdqyWJleNOKEw/s4032/Keith's%20desk.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBc_VWoWHiGpr2YA_5ztSNCyOHXk-uf029BgVxoJnwEVkjyOQp2siz9_86r6NZldGfTNZDHr4Snc92IHsO4fwgn3mg9r-24nZnKx6FkCh4ytoaDcaT7UOmVV50b_iyHkfVGyrTIUlk0rFoBsdIvcmbPxBw5wqGIBjs4vuTaKdqyWJleNOKEw/w480-h640/Keith's%20desk.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">We still have work to do!</span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Jennytchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621488409334115930noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169036.post-73663500010482876732022-06-17T21:13:00.000+01:002022-09-11T21:30:49.244+01:00Another diversionJust time today for another little segue which is linked to the fact that I haven't been on here since Monday.<a href=""></a><blockquote>
</blockquote><div>One of the more boring, or at least less welcome parts of a house move, is tackling the long list of utilities, companies and other august bodies to inform them of said house move and register the change of address. When I was helping Dad to move up here, the list was probably just as long but didn't seem nearly as onerous, possibly because in every case, I was able to ring up the people I needed to speak to and get things organised relatively quickly.</div><div>This week a very good example of how things are not working nearly so well is my experience of contacting our old and new councils. The new council was a piece of cake. I could inform them online, set up the direct debit to be activated from the date of our move and I even got an email of acknowledgement.</div><div>Fast forward to our current council.</div><div>Approximately ten minutes trawling through the website to find out who to contact and how to do it (council tax department, on the phone only), followed by my first attempt at ringing.</div><div>Several minutes of chat in Welsh and then English, basically trying to persuade me to go online, even though I couldn't do what I needed online, or in desperation, suggesting that I might like to push off and try again another time as they were "currently experiencing a high volume of calls" How often have I heard that phrase this week! </div><div>I tried again the following day.</div><div>This time my strategy was to try the switchboard number which failed because I was told I would have to be put through to the council tax department anyway and although she would do her best, 'they are very busy' (Isn't everyone?) With that, I found myself listening to the same baloney as last time with the same invitation to push off.</div><div>Next attempt: Keith rang the number and vowed to stay on, listening to the rubbish music until he managed to speak to a human. By this time, the battery of our cordless landline was dying, so he had moved on to his mobile and, hey presto! after much more waiting, he finally got through to a human and passed the phone over to me.</div><div>And would you believe it? After going through all the details, the wretched woman said she couldn't register our change of address until a week before we move!</div><div>"Please don't say I have to ring this department again," I said, metaphorically banging my head on the floor.</div><div>"Yes, you will have to ring here again," was the reply. (Did I detect a note of triumph in her voice?)</div><div>"You have no idea how long I have spent trying to get through today and yesterday," I said.</div><div>"Well, it's best to ring in the afternoon. We're less busy then," said my tormentor.</div><div>"Well you weren't less busy yesterday!"</div><div>"Ah well, it was Monday yesterday," she said.</div><div>I rang off and went to wrap my head in a wet towel ...</div><div><br /></div>Jennytchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621488409334115930noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169036.post-18678273373185884442022-06-13T16:56:00.005+01:002022-09-11T21:31:01.156+01:00On we go ... and on and on...So it was back to the drawing board - or rather the house search websites. The internet sprites began a period of overtime, hurtling back and forth conveying texts and emails between Claire, Keith and me. Many long discussions were had on the various advantages or disadvantages of each house discovered and I began to wonder if we would ever find what we were looking for.<a href=""></a><blockquote>
</blockquote><div>Keith, of course, would be happy with a hole in the ground as long as it had a large garage or potential workshop attached. Claire was more interested in somewhere fairly near to her and I was beginning to see the advantages of a desert island somewhere warm and peaceful!</div><div>There were, of course, lightning trips up to Claire's area and quite a few viewings of houses that looked hopeful but were sometimes quite disappointing. Also, for most of the time, the regulations on mask wearing and other Covid safeguards differed between Wales and England. Keith and I took the decision to continue to follow the Welsh ones and wear masks for house viewings or other times when we were indoors with strangers. One day, we found a little pub for a much needed lunch break during our house viewings. As we were going in, having just put our masks on, another couple were on their way out.</div><div>"Ha! You'll be the only ones in there wearing one of those!" cackled the man.</div><div>But Keith was ready for him.</div><div>"Well, we'll be the only ones without Covid then," he said.</div><div>As it happened, we mostly got by unscathed, except for one moment when a woman who was waiting for us stuck her head through the car window to speak to us.</div><div>If I were to lay bets, she's the one I would put my money on as the unwitting source of our dose of Covid when we got home.</div><div>Still, at least we got off lightly with a mild dose and after not too long a time, we found another house!</div>Jennytchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621488409334115930noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169036.post-16247416367790685192022-06-09T09:55:00.000+01:002022-09-11T21:31:13.816+01:00A house!And just like that, we're back to March. We had secured our buyers, insofar as one can 'secure' people, filled in enough paperwork to account for a small wood at least, and arranged for gas and electric safety checks, which we knew would be required by the buyers' solicitor.<div>Now, all we had to do was find ourselves a house and hey presto! after many hours of searching, we found one, for which we duly submitted an offer and after surprisingly little arm wrestling, a mutually acceptable offer was agreed upon and we proceeded to shell out a wad of the folding stuff for our survey, officially known as a RICS level two homebuyer's report.</div><div>On the positive side, although it's pretty expensive, the homebuyer's report is also pretty extensive and in these modern days of email, sees the light of day quite quickly.</div><div>That's the positive aspect and it was certainly very clear, should we ever have doubted it, that it is an essential requirement for anyone serious about buying a property. There is a more expensive alternative available which is usually recommended for old houses, but the one we were interested in was only built in the eighties (No, that's not old!) so we went for the level two.</div><div>Well, I can't argue that it was indeed money well spent, but not in a good way. </div><div>Unfortunately, the surveyor had found several problems with the property, some of which seemed to be as a result of DIY done by the wrong people with the wrong materials and which would be expensive, time consuming and inconvenient to put right. </div><div>As we had promised ourselves that we did not want a house which needed work, beyond the usual cosmetic and decorating jobs, this was not going to work for us.</div><div>I rang the estate agent and explained.</div><div>"Oh yes, of course, I quite understand," was the response, followed by "Do you think you could send us a copy of your report so that we can see what we're dealing with?"</div><div>The answer to that, I'm afraid, was a resounding no, unless they were willing to reimburse us for the approximately £500 we had spent on it. </div><div>And no, I didn't actually say that. I did email a few of the summary points to give an idea of the problem and didn't even get an acknowledgement.</div><div>From trawling through the internet, it seems that once a problematic report has been produced, the sellers/estate agents are obliged to come clean about it, if asked. So maybe that's something to be aware of when house hunting.</div><div>However, although we had avoided a pothole in the house hunting road, we were now back to searching again and hoping that our buyers were willing to be patient.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><a href=""></a><blockquote>
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</blockquote><div>Last week we spoke to our solicitor, H, on the phone about the progression of things and the upshot of the conversation was that he would like us to come in and sign the contract for the house we are buying.</div><div>Tomorrow? No not tomorrow, and as we were about to begin the four day Platinum Jubilee, it would have to be Tuesday 7th and could we please come at 11am.</div><div>He said this very clearly and Keith and I both heard it and committed it to memory and, in my case, to my diary.</div><div>I mention this because at 10.55, there we were standing in front of the receptionist in the front office. The only problem was, said receptionist had a puzzled look on her face and was telling us that, not only was there no record in the office diary of our appointment but there was also no H. Ten minutes later, his conveyancing assistant appeared, having failed to get any answer from H and having no idea where he could be. However, she said she would look at our file and talk us through the contract, so that at least would be done. </div><div>My main worry was getting a moving date agreed so that we could ensure that our removal firm was free. They had already taken some of Keith's stuff into temporary storage, so we were pretty well committed to them.</div><div>"Unfortunately," D began, :Your vendor is saying that mid June (which I thought had been more or less agreed) is far too early. He's looking more at the end of July or early August."</div><div>I explained that this was a bit of a volte face, as he had been quite happy to accommodate us before. He was going to rent for a while and put his furniture into storage.</div><div>"Well," said D, "maybe you could speak to his estate agent and find out what is going on. I'm not allowed to do that, you see."</div><div>With that, she began showing the contract to us before she realised that I was ringing the estate agent straight away. She sat back with a not very impressed look on her face. </div><div>There followed a series of phone calls from me to the estate agent and our removal firm. By now, our solicitor, H had mysteriously appeared and poured himself into his chair muttering something about insomnia and oversleeping.</div><div>D disappeared and H continued to take us through the documents, punctuated at intervals by the phone calls. At one point, I was in mid-call when I looked up to see Keith creeping round H's desk, examining it inch by inch.</div><div>"That was a bit surreal," I remarked after the phone call. It turned out that Keith thought the desk was one that he had made when he had his desk-making factory.</div><div>"You've had quite a varied career path, haven't you?" H commented.</div><div>The upshot of the phone calls was that it seems as if the end of June is looking possible and even likely.</div><div>Fingers and toes crossed ...</div>Jennytchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621488409334115930noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169036.post-41023658092774507402022-06-06T11:40:00.001+01:002022-09-11T21:31:44.600+01:00A big decisionIt all started with this ...<a href=""></a><blockquote>
</blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_Kljori9HSaCec0BzfISzCkCadGnehod_aTRSHMOrjDuWYvjalWkaBiIIIizXthU2LCVEYPgrpi6Ejr41KCRg8LvWnSeUcRGl_cqnglN-pog3NbgFvt0CyG3_Wd8io4B62Y8UagAlzr3rj7qo395V5pX_iCn0yKokcIrdj_qv5EmzXFFchg/s4032/for%20sale.heic" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_Kljori9HSaCec0BzfISzCkCadGnehod_aTRSHMOrjDuWYvjalWkaBiIIIizXthU2LCVEYPgrpi6Ejr41KCRg8LvWnSeUcRGl_cqnglN-pog3NbgFvt0CyG3_Wd8io4B62Y8UagAlzr3rj7qo395V5pX_iCn0yKokcIrdj_qv5EmzXFFchg/w300-h400/for%20sale.heic" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>We did try before, back in 2007 or 2008, but, although the house was up for sale for several weeks, we had not a single viewer.</div><div>Fast forward to February 2022, and we tried again. This time the sign blew off within a couple of days, thanks for the storms we were having at that time, but that didn't matter because we had a committed buyer at the end of the first day's viewing. We were certainly not the only sellers who had that experience either. It seemed as if the housing market had gone berserk post Covid, which worked to our advantage as sellers, but of course, made buying a little more complicated.</div><div>We are not quite at the end of this journey yet and we have had some hiccups along the way and I would certainly agree that moving house is one of the more stressful experiences of life, particularly when you have one person in the household who has the equivalent of a small factory in 'stuff' to move and who requires a garage or other form of workshop-type building in which to house it. </div><div>Travelling light and minimalism are totally alien concepts to Keith, as I think we have established in the past.</div><div>So, our next issue was to find a house to buy in the north east, somewhere in Claire's region, which meant a few trips up there, but also, judicious use of our 'secret weapon', aka Claire, who went beyond the call of duty and volunteered to book herself in for initial viewings to several of the properties we were interested in. Each time she did this, the house owners very kindly allowed her to fire up FaceTime on her phone and we were able to see what she was seeing and ask questions if we needed to. </div><div>Whatever did we do without modern technology?</div><div>I can confirm that Keith, Claire and I spent many hours every day trawling through houses on the internet and many texts and emails were flying between us with links to said houses. Many 'animated discussions' were had, usually around Claire's local knowledge and dismissal of certain local areas. Many viewings were undertaken, by Claire and by us and many houses were crossed off the list for various reasons but eventually, one was found which seemed to tick the boxes...</div><div><br /></div>Jennytchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621488409334115930noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169036.post-89028794048517683602022-06-05T10:55:00.003+01:002022-06-05T10:55:51.534+01:00Tempus FugitYes, I know, it's been a very long time since I last posted on here - so long in fact, that Blogger and Google seem to have spent the time conspiring between themselves on how to throw everything in the air and change it all and I think I have probably lost anyone who followed me many moons ago. <a href=""></a><blockquote>
</blockquote><div>I can't really explain why I stopped putting fingers to keyboard but no doubt from early 2020, the advent of the pandemic certainly didn't help. One thing it did help to clarify for us though, was that it might be a good idea to move a little closer to family. Claire's Charlie, born in September 2019 (remember?) is now two and a half and we have only seen him face to face a handful of times, although good old FaceTime has been a godsend and at least he does know who we are. </div><div><br /></div><div>And then there was the shed (sorry, workshop) which Keith was fast growing out of and he thought it might be nice to have a garage to use instead, so back in February, we started house hunting in the north east (England, that is) fairly near to Claire, Neil and Charlie. At this point, it has just occurred to me that Keith, being Welsh, may, under this current government, be considered to be foreign, so we may have to sneak him in as an illegal alien, but we are prepared to cross that bridge when we come to it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway, fast forward to now and we are surrounded by boxes and chaos as I write, so there is much more to tell and more posts will come in the next few days. </div><div><br /></div><div>Bet you can't wait ... <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuDr77MdDOru5ZXtN9UCtjkMdKRfPUWfKdLGwnKoEkOD561O_Z-POBvF25s30Gy0Y09WwwlmW5xut3CnyHz4kUgtfhS8L5aVyKfBVC4s-PD2pL4ceFNUJuylXXvoE9H3HhIteEqPm0YE55mE8k1hbH1DnTh4XzC2DQ7sY_e6stt_mA7aNCdA/s4032/668A341A-E49B-491B-8676-9FAEFAF93B87.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="359" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuDr77MdDOru5ZXtN9UCtjkMdKRfPUWfKdLGwnKoEkOD561O_Z-POBvF25s30Gy0Y09WwwlmW5xut3CnyHz4kUgtfhS8L5aVyKfBVC4s-PD2pL4ceFNUJuylXXvoE9H3HhIteEqPm0YE55mE8k1hbH1DnTh4XzC2DQ7sY_e6stt_mA7aNCdA/w313-h359/668A341A-E49B-491B-8676-9FAEFAF93B87.jpeg" width="313" /></a></div><br /></div>Jennytchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621488409334115930noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169036.post-91293660054773154062019-09-25T20:02:00.001+01:002022-06-05T10:20:09.249+01:00Bus passesOne of the good things about being sixty plus is that you are entitled to a bus pass, which means that, within Wales, your bus journeys are free of charge and that even applies if you venture over the border into 'that there England', as long as your journey begins and ends in Wales.<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7169036"></a>
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I had a bus pass and I used it but then, a couple of years ago, our local buses vanished. From having a bus running almost past our house every half hour, we suddenly, with no warning, found ourselves without buses, busless, sans buses, which was a bit of a blow, but which was replicated in several other areas of Wrexham county. Unfortunately, this part of the country relies on private bus companies, which bid for contracts and receive little or no financial support, which means that they focus on the more lucrative routes and ditch the others. There are other routes within walking distance, but then a couple of weeks ago, I discovered that, following the example of the buses, my bus pass had also disappeared. Where it's gone, I have no idea, but as it happens, all Welsh bus passes are to be replaced with new style ones by the end of the year and everyone was urged to apply online on the Transport for Wales website, which promptly crashed and remained crashed for over a week. </div>
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It did occur to some people to wonder what provision would be made for those who are not computer savvy, do not own a computer and do not use the internet, and bearing in mind that the concessionary bus passes are mainly used by the elderly, this was a valid concern.</div>
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'Well, that's tough' seemed to be the answer to that one and it was only after representations from Age Concern and other organisations, that it was grudgingly agreed that paper application forms would be made available, with the warning that it would take a while for this to happen and much longer for them to be processed compared to online applications. </div>
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I would describe myself as a 'computer anorak' and proud of it, but it saddens me to see an organisation like Transport for Wales assuming, without, it seems, any consultation, that everyone, young or old, has easy access to the internet and can be required to make their applications through this means only.</div>
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Jennytchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621488409334115930noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169036.post-64865080831873281792019-09-22T20:40:00.001+01:002019-09-22T20:40:43.059+01:00A new arrivalThis time last week, we were relaxing after a journey from Gretna to Gateshead and back. Confused? You will be ...<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7169036"></a>
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In August, we decided that a bit of a break was in order and that as I had never been to Scotland and Keith had only made extremely brief forays into Glasgow and Edinburgh, we would find a cottage for a week so that we could take da dawg as well. The cottage we finally settled on was a couple of miles from Gretna Green, in a little place called Rigg which, as it happens, had once been the home of Keith's grandfather and father; but that's another story.</div>
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Earlier in the year, Younger Daughter had become pregnant and her baby was due in mid October. However, on the morning of our first day at the cottage, I got a panicked phone call from Claire saying that she thought her waters had broken and she and her fiancé, Neil were hot footing it to the local hospital. After many long hours of is she? isn't she? how soon? etc, it was decided that she would be able to give birth normally and things were allowed to take their course. As it happened, she managed to accomplish it with nothing more than Entinox, the infamous 'gas and air' but only because the doctor couldn't get the epidural set up in time and after five attempts, it was then too late for Pethidine to have any useful effect. </div>
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So at just 12.36am last Sunday, Charlie Hugh made his entrance into the world, four weeks early but weighing a very healthy 6lb 3oz and that's why we were rushing over to see him.</div>
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It seems that a decision has not been made as to whether his photo can appear on social media, so I am playing safe for now and just showing you this one of Charlie's first outing yesterday with proud Mum and asking you to imagine, for now, the pram containing the most beautiful baby in the world.</div>
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Jennytchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621488409334115930noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169036.post-55088011621589682102019-07-23T19:53:00.000+01:002019-07-23T19:57:40.293+01:00Monday was such a great day!<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">You know how sometimes you get up ready to face whatever the day brings, and a couple of hours into it, you're wishing you had stayed in bed - and then it just gradually gets worse? </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Well, this was our chain of events yesterday:</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21;">1. Front door lock breaks.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21;">2. Front door is so strong and secure that it takes the whole morning for Keith </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21;">to dismantle the locking system and fix it so that it does at least close.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; font-family: inherit;">3. A search on the internet for a suitable replacement because of course, our lock system is a different measurement to more modern doors.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21;">4. It will be delivered tomorrow (if we're lucky).</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="color: #1c1e21; display: inline;"><br /></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: inherit;">5. Keith's van wouldn't start as the battery was flat.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="color: #1c1e21; display: inline;">6. Keith opened back doors of said van and the left hand one fell off due to corroded rivets.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="color: #1c1e21; display: inline;">7. Giles was invited to come and help repair said door.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="color: #1c1e21; display: inline;">8. Keith's riveter was a) too small</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="color: #1c1e21; display: inline;"> b) broke.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="color: #1c1e21; display: inline;">9. This necessitated a trip to Screw Fix to buy another one.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="color: #1c1e21; display: inline;">10. Tonight I shall be sleeping across the front door, musket at the ready in case of intruders.</span></span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="color: #1c1e21; display: inline; font-family: inherit;">Door lock now repaired, thanks to Keith's hard work.</span></div>
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="color: #1c1e21; display: inline; font-family: inherit;">A system was devised to keep us safe in our beds last night, but if I told you about it, I'd probably have to kill you. However, at least I was able to sleep in bed.</span></div>
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Jennytchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621488409334115930noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169036.post-46049354728059561372019-05-31T11:06:00.001+01:002019-05-31T11:06:16.495+01:00Yep - another one!29th April saw me pencilled in for a hysterectomy. Not something to look forward to but definitely necessary. At my pre-op assessment, I was given six drinks, four for the previous evening and two for the morning of the operation. I gather they are to provide you with the energy you need for the operation and subsequent early recovery and I was told they taste pretty horrible, although I thought that, whilst not on the scale of a decent red, they were quite bearable. Unfortunately, on this occasion, they were also superfluous as the operation was cancelled while we were coasting round the hospital car park, searching for a space.<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7169036"></a>
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Fast forward a fortnight to May 15th and this time I did manage to make it to the operating table - and off it a couple of hours later, minus the relevant body parts and I came back home on 17th.</div>
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Keith has been holding the fort admirably as regards shopping, cooking and housework as I have to ease back into things gradually over six weeks. My post op. check up is in a week and after that, I am hoping that nothing else is going to raise its ugly head, at least for the rest of 2019. Three operations in a year is enough for anyone - I don't want to be greedy!</div>
Jennytchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621488409334115930noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169036.post-74381114237613285722019-03-25T19:45:00.000+00:002019-03-25T19:45:00.577+00:00A doctor's note with a difference<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I was amazed and very impressed to get this card in the post the other day. I mentioned in my last post that it looks as though I am in line for another operation in the near future, which is never the most welcome news, but this thoughtful note from my GP has gone a long way to cheering me up. A small gesture but a significant one, especially these days when the NHS is under so much time pressure. Earlier that day, one of my dog-walking friends, who also recently needed to see the GP, remarked on what good care she had received.</div>
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Referring to our problems with our previous GP practice, she remarked, "I'm really glad you did your research and encouraged me to change."</div>
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After this, so am I.</div>
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Jennytchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621488409334115930noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169036.post-15739202488587076872019-03-17T19:58:00.000+00:002019-03-17T20:03:42.753+00:00A night in a skipHaving got through my second eye operation and survived to tell the tale, I mentally sat back and told myself I could relax and enjoy the rest of the year ...<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7169036"></a>
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Well, no. Instead, there have been recent visits to the hospital, including an appointment to see a very nice doctor who seemed to think he had to dress up his news by comparing it with a rose bush - the good news being the rose and the not so good being the thorns. </div>
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Anyway, time has moved on a tad and this morning saw me back at the hospital, this time for an MRI scan.</div>
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Now I have heard about these, of course and been told more than one tale of people being so comfortable in them that they have dozed off, so I was quite hoping that my experience would be similar. </div>
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Well not quite. Left arm was offered up for the insertion of a drain thingy so that dye could be pumped in. (I did wonder if I would come out a nice shade of blue, green or maybe yellow.) Then I was told it was very important to lie completely still and not move at all, and of course, as soon as you're told not to do something, you have the overwhelming impulse to do it; and finally, that the whole thing would last thirty to forty minutes, although it seemed so much longer, as I tried to relax and stay still, as well as breathing in and holding my breath several times for about ten minutes each time. (Okay, slight exaggeration but that's how it felt.) As for falling asleep, no chance with all the clatters, bangs and whistles, which were the sound effects of the machine doing what it had to do.</div>
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'Well, how was that?' asked the nurse as she helped me out at the end.</div>
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'Something like spending several hours in a skip on a building site after a heavy night out, I think,' I said, 'Not that I've ever experienced that ...' </div>
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Last time I was in the Xray department, I noticed a mistake in the Welsh on this sign and mentioned it to the receptionist, who said she would pass it on. This time, the mistake and the receptionist were still there.</div>
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'Oh yes, I remember you noticing it and I did tell the Welsh language speakers.'</div>
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'And they said, what was an English person doing telling them that they'd made a mistake?' I laughed.</div>
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The expression on her face told me I had hit the nail on the head.<br />
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Jennytchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621488409334115930noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169036.post-91425532007276006242019-01-18T16:16:00.000+00:002019-01-18T16:27:21.231+00:00The eyes have it!I mentioned in one of my recent posts that I had an eye operation looming over me, which I was not looking forward to, not one little bit. I have glaucoma, but not to be relegated to the common herd of glaucoma sufferers, I also have what the specialists call ‘deep cupping of the optic nerve’. I’m still not sure about the interconnection of the two but suffice it to say, over the last few years, I have been prescribed a variety of eye drops to reduce the pressure and while this treatment has had some success, the pressures were creeping up again, so the dreaded operation was suggested - a viscocanalostomy<i style="font-weight: bold;">. </i><br />
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<i style="font-weight: bold;">“</i>I’m<i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i>very<i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i>squeamish about eyes,” I said plaintively to the doctor.</div>
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“Lots of people are,” she said, “but don’t worry, it’s only like going to the dentist.”</div>
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“You’re not really selling it to me,” I muttered.</div>
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However, when you are told that the alternative to the operation is gradually losing your sight, it kind of concentrates the mind and so Christmas was spent under the cloud of ‘the operation’, in the distance like a man’s fist but drawing ever closer and looming ever larger. I know, pathetic, isn’t it? When I think of what lots of other people are suffering, and here was I behaving like a complete baby.</div>
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Elder Daughter suggested that I ask for a sedative.</div>
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“You won’t care what’s happening to you,” she assured me, “and you probably won’t even remember.”</div>
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Yes, I forgot to mention that this ‘procedure’ is carried out under local anaesthetic and I didn’t even want to think about how they get the anaesthetic in there!</div>
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Elder Daughter very kindly came to stay overnight to take my mind off things and Keith has been an absolute brick driving me up and down for my appointments - an hour’s journey each way. I didn’t have to be carried kicking and screaming into the hospital (gold star for that!) and carefully noted all the patients coming back from theatre, looking relaxed and happy, so I began to think that maybe it wouldn’t be a fate worse than death after all. If they could do it ...</div>
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And so it proved. Sedative given, anaesthetic administered and I was wheeled into theatre.</div>
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“You’re going to have a black eye tomorrow,” said the doctor. She wasn’t joking. Apparently, it depends on how and where the anaesthetic goes in. I have still banned myself from pursuing that train of thought! I managed to survive the half hour ordeal and lived to tell the tale, albeit looking as if I have gone ten rounds with whoever the latest boxing legend is. Believe me, the photo does not do it justice at all!</div>
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So I am now under strict instructions not to do anything energetic or any bending for four weeks and then, in a few more weeks, I get to do it all again on the right eye!</div>
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Jennytchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621488409334115930noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169036.post-47595686811813843122019-01-04T20:56:00.002+00:002019-01-04T20:56:57.934+00:00Away for ChristmasThis year - well last year, strictly speaking, as it is now 2019 - we decided to have a change and to book a cottage for a few days over Christmas. We chose one in Northumberland, quite near to where Younger Daughter, Claire, lives. <a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7169036"></a>
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The first time Keith and I went on holiday was about fourteen years ago and we just decided to go to France, booked a ferry crossing and off we went. Apart from checking that our passports were not out of date, we didn't even think of servicing the car, taking out health insurance or preparing in any other way other than throwing some clothes in cases and setting off. How times have changed! Now, it's much more akin to a military operation. Pack relevant medication, laptops, tablets, smartphones and, most importantly, their relevant chargers and pack everything that the little white dog will need, as he was coming too.</div>
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The cottage was very comfortable, we spent some time each day with Claire and Neil and even got to see Elder Daughter, Kathy and her husband, as they came up to stay overnight at the weekend.</div>
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Toby was very happy with his presents, while Keith was the picture of sartorial elegance in his new Christmas jumper.</div>
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And so was Claire - happy with her presents and the picture of sartorial elegance.<br />
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I think this is Toby asking Claire if he can come and live with her, but he'll have to get past Neil first!</div>
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On Christmas Eve, we found time to pop round to see Hadrian and his wall. Unfortunately he was out, but we did have a wander round the Sill and Housesteads.</div>
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Toby and the sheep seemed to get on well. He liked them but decided he couldn't eat a whole one. </div>
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On Boxing Day, we wandered up the coast. At Blyth there were some mad people swimming in the sea. (No accounting for taste.)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi-HJzy9JDKiT2d1S8X5m0Cneof4VeTkwucJKOl4WdbeTu1rRP6YigriL13tU-7fhB-eJWXSWpRhWngGZbmY3UycSn8Nd4FLG60EmRs6R11qj4qmtTfj8AeBQqIvr0a8uVGImi/s1600/IMG_1366.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi-HJzy9JDKiT2d1S8X5m0Cneof4VeTkwucJKOl4WdbeTu1rRP6YigriL13tU-7fhB-eJWXSWpRhWngGZbmY3UycSn8Nd4FLG60EmRs6R11qj4qmtTfj8AeBQqIvr0a8uVGImi/s640/IMG_1366.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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All in all, we enjoyed our short break and have decided that later this year, we will definitely go back and maybe venture into Scotland as well.</div>
Jennytchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621488409334115930noreply@blogger.com2