... I have turned into my Dad, reincarnated.
And even though today with all of it's antics have left me now knackered, in bed at 8pm granted with the laptop but ronnied all the same I am smiling about the fact that I have turned into my Dad.
The reason? Not once today, with many things having gone tits up, attention and common sense needed in vast amounts and generally a completely hectic day have I even been rattled - not even once. In fact, even something this evening that would have in the past driven me nuts, actually had me laughing my tits off but will explain that later.
So from the beginning - the first task was to take Mumsie Banks to open a post office isa account of which I was going along for moral support really and to make sure it ran smoothly. It didn't as you would expect and the pin number to the card was wrong and we used the cheque book as a fall back. No problems there in fact I left there laughing as there was no queue when we arrived, when we left it was huge...
After that Mumsie had asked to be taken to the local QD store as she had seen the perfect computer desk for the bargain price of £49.50 of which I had offered to collect, so off to Anglia square we toddle. Had a wander round, picked up a few things for myself and we went to pay for the desk of which could be collected from the delivery door out the back. Paid, hopped back into the car, drove round, dropped rear seats and placed what can only be described as the two heaviest flat packed boxes ever into the back of the car. Seeing as we still had some time left on the car park ticket parked up again and wandered about shopping a bit more. I even bought shoes!
Finally got the things back to hers and decided that because of how heavy the main box was to open it in the car and take all the individual bits out to save the both of us doing ourselves a mischief lifting it.
So imagine our utter delight when getting to the bottom of the box of bits that main top of the desk which dictated the size of the sodding box was an odd kind of an 'L' shape with the biggest arsed crack right across it. Just how does my Mother do that? Anything she seems to buy when I am involved in picking it up is always bloody broken! I spend so much time taking stuff back by the time she has a finished article its cost her bugger all for the item and me 4 times in diesel... FFS
I got on the phone to the store, explained the problem and they were superb saying if I could bring back just the top they would exchange it for one that wasn't fucked. Great. It was then Mum found another bit that was damaged so slung that in the car as well to go get it changed.
Drove back into Norwich again through all the school run traffic... exchanged the bits and went back to mums again. *phew*
Then there was the "signed for" parcel she had been expecting to be delivered that day as well. Seeing as they hadn't arrived with it by noon, I told her we would slap a note on the door asking to get next door to sign it. Oddly this worked and mumsie collected parcel from next doors and opened it but looked rather bemused. The item we, (I say 'we' here as this was one of the things she didn't want to do herself Monday so I ordered it on the phone for her) we had been sent was not the item we had wanted, so on the phone I go again being told that 'management team' would call me back ref the problem. OK then.
Finally came home again, had only had enough time to light the fire and open my post to find a bloody letter from the DWP ref my employment at the logistics company in May/June and lots of questions as to why I left to validate my claim for job seekers allowance. This was because I was working for a bitch from hell but obviously need to word that ever so slightly differently. I took it all in my stride, wrote them a lovely reply explaining the situation with the hound from hell boss, answering all of their questions and hopefully getting them off my case and onto hers. (Oh, I do hope so as there is one woman really in need of a reality check)
Then I get the 'Managment Office' of said company sending out the wrong stuff on the phone. He was great bless him, apologised and stated we were not the first it seems to have had this problem and if it was ok would ring me back Monday to arrange getting us the right item (and considering this was at 5:30 on a Friday just getting the phone call was a surprise)
Feeling a bit brain dead by then and in comes 'his nibs' looking somewhat flustered and rushing about like a bloody Tasmanian devil. Turns out he has a scouts test tonight and tomorrow which will decide his future & passing out with the RAF and here he was desperately trying to find all his kit needed for said couple of days of which is strewn in my living room in various rucksacks and bags all over the shop due to his moving house. Fortunately I had actually washed all his camo' kit the day before so at least that was an easy one to sort out. Now this is the thing I mentioned earlier - normally the fact that he was seriously 'flapping' & making an absolute mess of my house would have sent me into a neurotic mental frenzy but all I did was make us both a cup of tea, sat back and watched him going daft, which made me laugh like a bloody train. Laughing so much in fact he even came and tickled me to buggery for taking the piss before he left. That'll teach me :)
So with all that and a handful of stuff that I should have done today but didn't due to lack of time and now energy, I sit here in bed, tired but accomplished, knowing that the reason for my calm state is that I am very much my Dad's girl still and for that reason alone I am very thankful.
And even though today with all of it's antics have left me now knackered, in bed at 8pm granted with the laptop but ronnied all the same I am smiling about the fact that I have turned into my Dad.
The reason? Not once today, with many things having gone tits up, attention and common sense needed in vast amounts and generally a completely hectic day have I even been rattled - not even once. In fact, even something this evening that would have in the past driven me nuts, actually had me laughing my tits off but will explain that later.
So from the beginning - the first task was to take Mumsie Banks to open a post office isa account of which I was going along for moral support really and to make sure it ran smoothly. It didn't as you would expect and the pin number to the card was wrong and we used the cheque book as a fall back. No problems there in fact I left there laughing as there was no queue when we arrived, when we left it was huge...
After that Mumsie had asked to be taken to the local QD store as she had seen the perfect computer desk for the bargain price of £49.50 of which I had offered to collect, so off to Anglia square we toddle. Had a wander round, picked up a few things for myself and we went to pay for the desk of which could be collected from the delivery door out the back. Paid, hopped back into the car, drove round, dropped rear seats and placed what can only be described as the two heaviest flat packed boxes ever into the back of the car. Seeing as we still had some time left on the car park ticket parked up again and wandered about shopping a bit more. I even bought shoes!
Finally got the things back to hers and decided that because of how heavy the main box was to open it in the car and take all the individual bits out to save the both of us doing ourselves a mischief lifting it.
So imagine our utter delight when getting to the bottom of the box of bits that main top of the desk which dictated the size of the sodding box was an odd kind of an 'L' shape with the biggest arsed crack right across it. Just how does my Mother do that? Anything she seems to buy when I am involved in picking it up is always bloody broken! I spend so much time taking stuff back by the time she has a finished article its cost her bugger all for the item and me 4 times in diesel... FFS
I got on the phone to the store, explained the problem and they were superb saying if I could bring back just the top they would exchange it for one that wasn't fucked. Great. It was then Mum found another bit that was damaged so slung that in the car as well to go get it changed.
Drove back into Norwich again through all the school run traffic... exchanged the bits and went back to mums again. *phew*
Then there was the "signed for" parcel she had been expecting to be delivered that day as well. Seeing as they hadn't arrived with it by noon, I told her we would slap a note on the door asking to get next door to sign it. Oddly this worked and mumsie collected parcel from next doors and opened it but looked rather bemused. The item we, (I say 'we' here as this was one of the things she didn't want to do herself Monday so I ordered it on the phone for her) we had been sent was not the item we had wanted, so on the phone I go again being told that 'management team' would call me back ref the problem. OK then.
Finally came home again, had only had enough time to light the fire and open my post to find a bloody letter from the DWP ref my employment at the logistics company in May/June and lots of questions as to why I left to validate my claim for job seekers allowance. This was because I was working for a bitch from hell but obviously need to word that ever so slightly differently. I took it all in my stride, wrote them a lovely reply explaining the situation with the hound from hell boss, answering all of their questions and hopefully getting them off my case and onto hers. (Oh, I do hope so as there is one woman really in need of a reality check)
Then I get the 'Managment Office' of said company sending out the wrong stuff on the phone. He was great bless him, apologised and stated we were not the first it seems to have had this problem and if it was ok would ring me back Monday to arrange getting us the right item (and considering this was at 5:30 on a Friday just getting the phone call was a surprise)
Feeling a bit brain dead by then and in comes 'his nibs' looking somewhat flustered and rushing about like a bloody Tasmanian devil. Turns out he has a scouts test tonight and tomorrow which will decide his future & passing out with the RAF and here he was desperately trying to find all his kit needed for said couple of days of which is strewn in my living room in various rucksacks and bags all over the shop due to his moving house. Fortunately I had actually washed all his camo' kit the day before so at least that was an easy one to sort out. Now this is the thing I mentioned earlier - normally the fact that he was seriously 'flapping' & making an absolute mess of my house would have sent me into a neurotic mental frenzy but all I did was make us both a cup of tea, sat back and watched him going daft, which made me laugh like a bloody train. Laughing so much in fact he even came and tickled me to buggery for taking the piss before he left. That'll teach me :)
So with all that and a handful of stuff that I should have done today but didn't due to lack of time and now energy, I sit here in bed, tired but accomplished, knowing that the reason for my calm state is that I am very much my Dad's girl still and for that reason alone I am very thankful.
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