Busy

South Cambridgeshire soil is not like any other soil. Even when dry it sticks to your boots like mud and refuses to come off, rather like blood stains on an old shirt; or ketchup on your favourite tie.

Saturday we signed the (hopefully ) last sets of papers and picked up the keys to the new flat. Thereafter it was largely feed selves then belt off to Foxton for my God daughter's 6th birthday do and dinner afterwards. It was here that we found out about the staining qualities of South Cambridgeshire soil. It kicks up like dust and settles like glue. Furtle and I went for a walk toward the end of the afternoon, see. We don't get to see that much countryside, so as it was a nice day and all the kids were suitably entertained, we decided that an hour or so traipsing through the fields would be nice. And it was, but oh, that soil. Oh yes, the hay fever, too. Forgot about that. It was rather war, as well and humid, though country humid, which is more acceptable than town humid.

Dinner and chat with our hosts and then relatively early to bed (i.e. midnight) and up again at 8.30 feeling more tired than we should. Just time for a shower and a coffee before piling into the hire car to plough a furrow down to Gray's in Essex for a Christening. We got lost in Gray's and missed the actual dipping, but had to sit through the remainder of the service anyway. Oh, the Karma Pixies, how they laughed.

A bite to eat after the service and a trip to IKEA, which wasn't as fraught as it might have been, though it was hot. We did not buy tea lights even though they are remarkably reasonably priced. Thence to MacDonald’s for a burger and soft drink, but as much for ten minutes to ourselves before driving round to the small village of Writtle and the Furtle's Roost to pick up quite a bit, but not all of her remaining stuff, including a trunk, which I am hoping will live at the end of the bed with the Union Jack draped over it. Because we can.

Did I mention that it was hot?

Invited for a curry by Ma and Pa Furtle, we hung around for a couple of hours before driving to Chelmsford for food and BEER.

Finally, around 23.00 last night, we made it back to Whetstone, demonstrating our mutual lack of fitness by knackering ourselves getting retrieved bits and pieces into the new flat. In the dark of course, because we couldn't find the fuse box and someone had turned off all the first floor lighting, though everything else was OK. Back then, to the Athenaeum for a much needed shower, coffee and an episode of Alias and then to bed.

It was hot.

Today we slept in late-ish before ferrying some bulky but light stuff across the High Road to the flat. A sort of desultory packing is beginning. Tomorrow we must make greater efforts. We neither of us like to move house, so that will require some discipline.

It is still hot.

Busy

South Cambridgeshire soil is not like any other soil. Even when dry it sticks to your boots like mud and refuses to come off, rather like blood stains on an old shirt; or ketchup on your favourite tie.

Saturday we signed the (hopefully ) last sets of papers and picked up the keys to the new flat. Thereafter it was largely feed selves then belt off to Foxton for my God daughter's 6th birthday do and dinner afterwards. It was here that we found out about the staining qualities of South Cambridgeshire soil. It kicks up like dust and settles like glue. Furtle and I went for a walk toward the end of the afternoon, see. We don't get to see that much countryside, so as it was a nice day and all the kids were suitably entertained, we decided that an hour or so traipsing through the fields would be nice. And it was, but oh, that soil. Oh yes, the hay fever, too. Forgot about that. It was rather war, as well and humid, though country humid, which is more acceptable than town humid.

Dinner and chat with our hosts and then relatively early to bed (i.e. midnight) and up again at 8.30 feeling more tired than we should. Just time for a shower and a coffee before piling into the hire car to plough a furrow down to Gray's in Essex for a Christening. We got lost in Gray's and missed the actual dipping, but had to sit through the remainder of the service anyway. Oh, the Karma Pixies, how they laughed.

A bite to eat after the service and a trip to IKEA, which wasn't as fraught as it might have been, though it was hot. We did not buy tea lights even though they are remarkably reasonably priced. Thence to MacDonald’s for a burger and soft drink, but as much for ten minutes to ourselves before driving round to the small village of Writtle and the Furtle's Roost to pick up quite a bit, but not all of her remaining stuff, including a trunk, which I am hoping will live at the end of the bed with the Union Jack draped over it. Because we can.

Did I mention that it was hot?

Invited for a curry by Ma and Pa Furtle, we hung around for a couple of hours before driving to Chelmsford for food and BEER.

Finally, around 23.00 last night, we made it back to Whetstone, demonstrating our mutual lack of fitness by knackering ourselves getting retrieved bits and pieces into the new flat. In the dark of course, because we couldn't find the fuse box and someone had turned off all the first floor lighting, though everything else was OK. Back then, to the Athenaeum for a much needed shower, coffee and an episode of Alias and then to bed.

It was hot.

Today we slept in late-ish before ferrying some bulky but light stuff across the High Road to the flat. A sort of desultory packing is beginning. Tomorrow we must make greater efforts. We neither of us like to move house, so that will require some discipline.

It is still hot.

Hanging on the Telephone

I fear it, I really do.

I have been looking at the BT website, trying to find out how to order a landline from good old British Telecom. There's lots of information - but significantly I can't find details of the connection charge and I don't know what I am likely to pay as a new customer moving into premises that havfe the wires already in place, but no account with BT (as yet).

I can't work out if, as a new customer, I pay for their reconnection or new line service and whichever it is, what it costs. Such is the system in this bloody country that if I look at one of the competitors' websites, they simply assume that you have a BT line and tell you how to switch to their 'cheaper and more reliable' alternatives. No-one apart from BT seems to actually connect you to the system in the first place. Of course, that then brings me to the 12 month contract. If I pay BT to connect me, I have to stay with the brutes for 12 months before I can take advantage of the 'cheaper and more reliable' alternatives.

Pah. It is to weep.

The line here in the Athenaeum Club is in colonel_maxim's name and is with Talk Talk. I suppose I could get it switched to my name and transferred, but I don't know if that's possible without creating more hassle than it's worth. And it still doesn't get me past the reconnection - new connection problem. My only prior experience in this field is with NTL and frankly I'd rather gouge my own eyes out with red hot spoons than deal with those b*ast*rds again.

What to do? What to do?

I suspect that I shall spend more time than I wish speaking to an underpaid drone in India tomorrow morning trying to find out what fiery hoops I have to jump through to get the telephone connection sorted in the new flat, and how many internal organs I shall need to sell to finance it!

Grumble.

Hanging on the Telephone

I fear it, I really do.

I have been looking at the BT website, trying to find out how to order a landline from good old British Telecom. There's lots of information - but significantly I can't find details of the connection charge and I don't know what I am likely to pay as a new customer moving into premises that havfe the wires already in place, but no account with BT (as yet).

I can't work out if, as a new customer, I pay for their reconnection or new line service and whichever it is, what it costs. Such is the system in this bloody country that if I look at one of the competitors' websites, they simply assume that you have a BT line and tell you how to switch to their 'cheaper and more reliable' alternatives. No-one apart from BT seems to actually connect you to the system in the first place. Of course, that then brings me to the 12 month contract. If I pay BT to connect me, I have to stay with the brutes for 12 months before I can take advantage of the 'cheaper and more reliable' alternatives.

Pah. It is to weep.

The line here in the Athenaeum Club is in colonel_maxim's name and is with Talk Talk. I suppose I could get it switched to my name and transferred, but I don't know if that's possible without creating more hassle than it's worth. And it still doesn't get me past the reconnection - new connection problem. My only prior experience in this field is with NTL and frankly I'd rather gouge my own eyes out with red hot spoons than deal with those b*ast*rds again.

What to do? What to do?

I suspect that I shall spend more time than I wish speaking to an underpaid drone in India tomorrow morning trying to find out what fiery hoops I have to jump through to get the telephone connection sorted in the new flat, and how many internal organs I shall need to sell to finance it!

Grumble.