Yo ho ho, and a bottle of tequila

The audacity of our landlord, to ring me up and say that he was quite worried at the state of the house.  Yes dear readers, he did, he was worried that we are such slobs we cannot clean for ourselves.
I had slithers of respect for him, but all respect has now just dissappeared out of the window.  I feel like smearing the entire house with excrement and leaving rotting fish in the water tank after that comment.
Initially, a few thoughts whisked in to my head that I felt incredibly ashamed of, but realised that this was just a gut human thing, uncontrollable like a dog barking, instinctive.
But racist slurs aside, tonight I am off to B&Q to buy sandpaper and grout in a bid to try and sort out the grouting and the mould behind the tiles.  Yes the place is grim but at least I can start putting up the original fittings that came with the house and touching up the paint.  I will also have a go at dehairing the carpet too, as it seems all too obvious what has happened here.
My advice to everyone, is not to rent a house, just buy your own and then you can keep it in whatever state you like.
I am, however, going to do this whilst drinking a bottle of vodka occasionally turning around to light my farts.

The Fist of God

I knew today would not be easy.  In fact I knew that I was up for a challenge the moment I woke up and realised I had set the alarm too early and also when I realised that my blanket was too cosy and everything was too warm to even contemplate getting up.  But had to.

The bed is broken so I have to go and sleep on the sofa, I was sleeping on the bean bag but my back has started to ache when I sleep on it so I have moved to the sofa.  I rang Mike to see if the mortgage paperwork was on track, and found out that the Halifax had not even sent him the mortgage instructions.  So frantically I emailed Adele at DCHA and Rob Page our IFA, and sat for two hours as tense as a frozen frog.
Chris Boyles the electrician rings to say that he could not get over to us on Friday, so would need to come over again this week, and Jude emailed rang to ask me to possibly do a session for staff development day about the training that I had on Friday.  I suggested doing and feedback session for the current CoFHE website and see what people had to say.
Great, so pretty much everything was hitting the fan at the same time and then Mike emailed me to say that the Halifax had indeed sent him the documents and so we had to come in ASAP to sign them.  Its strange how stress breeds.

What has this got to do with the fist of God? nothing, it just sounds good.

The Saga Continues III

Oh dear blog, where can I possibly start.

I have a nice phone call today from the Housing Association to say that overnight the water tank has leaked.  Not only has it leaked but it has flooded and soaked through the ceiling.  I am generally quite tolerant, but I have had it with the total ridiculous farce that this entire thing seems to be.

Moving house is a total wretched farce that seems to be dogged at every turn by someone fucking up or something going monumentally wrong.  We move on the 30th November, but to what? We are going to be homeless if they don’t do something.

I guess it is only to be expected, a long list in fuck ups from one person or another, why break a trend?

So anyway, they say that the ceiling might have to be replaced.  I have emailed them saying that we are NOT moving in to a house that will be plagued with damp, especially a newly refurbished maisonette.  If we are delayed again then I will demand that they give us, out of goodwill, a free month of rent or even better they pay our first mortgage payment or something.

I am still shaking with anger, wishing that we had never even considered moving in to that dump.

Stars Lose Weight.

I have had this dramatic headline directly in my line of vision thanks to Heat magazine, revealing the latest hotpot of celebrity trends, guaranteed to cause instand malignancy of the intellect.
I am not going to start illustrating my blog with rich and textured wording, designed to show off my vast and varied vocabulary, simply because I am a man of little flourish and lucidity generally.  I say what I have to say and that is that. No small talk.
I have realised though, that small talk is the way to make friends.  I don’t like it, but the ability to conjure up a conversation that IS NOT about the weather or Madonna or even house prices, is something I am getting better at.
I wrote a cracking poem yesterday about Veterens of war.  Go to http://cheesegreen.wordpress.com or my lastwords.com page under Balthasar McFinnigan and read it there.  I tend to use two forums for my work, www.poetrypages.com always seemed to be good, but I have just realised that most of the stuff on there is about wolves, mist and cats, although the skill is good I have the feeling that most of the members are middle aged women.
Lastwords.com is the forum that Scroobius Pip has used, the rule is one poem one comment.  You can’t submit without leaving a comment.

I am trying to come up with a stage name or something slightly quirky.  So far Balthasar McFinnigan is about as good as I am going to get.

The saga continues again…

Strange but just as I wrote my last rant, Rob Page emailed me to say that Halifax are offerering us the mortgage.  Yey!

The saga continues…Housing associations and mortgages

So on Thursday night, Rob rings me up and says that the mortage offer is in fact ready to go.  All there, waiting for us.  The only thing that stands in the way is the fact that the Housing Association needs to confirm that it has some sort of insurance, indemnity insurance?  Something like that.
He tried Thursday and Friday to contact them, but hasn’t been able to.  Today, I am trying to contact them and despite sending them an email this morning asking them about the cooker, nothing.  I have just tried ringing them too, and still nothing.
So as far as I can see, its all going to go horribly horribly wrong, and the paperwork will not be ready by the 30th November.  Which means we will be homeless.  I am not going to start finding nice bushes to sleep under just yet as it is only Monday lunchtime, and there is the power of email too.  But with the general way things are going at the moment, it just seems like one big fuck up after another.
To add to the managerie of problems I have managed to do my back in, and Laura’s stress levels are visable from space.
And just to add some more insult to injury, we don’t even know if we can afford the first rent payment or even the first mortgage payment, especially if they want it on the 1st December.  Organisations are actually that cruel.
So far, affordable housing is proving to be ridiculously expensive.

Not a Veggie Sausage

I sat there, waiting, waiting for the post.  I was starting late so I was there when it came, and there was NOTHING.  Still no mortgage offer, still nothing.
have rang Rob and emailed him, and nothing, the man has dissappered or is ignoring us.  I have this incredible feeling of being let down by someone at every turn.  Ridiculous.

Thoughts of the Day.

Today I feel like someone is sitting on top of my head and injecting calm in liquid form, directly in to a canular in my arm, (for someone that likes writing so much, I am really bad at spelling), and patting my head.  The mortgage offer has not come through yet but I imagine it’ll happen either tomorrow of Friday.  If not Friday then we are going to be fucked if it hasn’t turned up by Wednesday.
Although I am maintaining positive vibes and hoping that it will be painless and relatively smooth in undertaking, I imagine it will end up being a great big pot of stress regardless.

I am now mulling over what to do next, which will most probably involve going home and thinking about writing.  I am meant to be going to London end of next week to receive training for the CMS (Content Management System) that I am going to use for the CoFHE (Colleges of Further and Higher Education, a Special Interest Group of CILIP (Chartered Institute of Library and Information Professionals)) that I am web editing for, but still waiting for the other web editor to get back to me and confirm that she can come.

So that it really.  Tomorrow is another day.

Development Day

Hey hey, its a wonderful day, its development day, hooray!!

No…its not.  It’s all pointless.

I had a voice in my head talk to me today.  Either this was some sort of ESP from a passing alien spacecraft, or the onset of some interesting and intriguing mental illness that will see me try and fly through windows.  But it told me that I HAVE to write more.

So be it.

FUn with Google Translation tool – I prehistoric wander lonely as a cloud

This is interesting.  Daffodils by William Wordsworth, translated in to Chinese and then back to English and then from Enlish in to Arabic, then back to English and finally in to Korean and back to English.  

I have a prepaid – historically clouds
The transportation, high o’er the valleys and hills,
Each time I saw a group of people in one place,
Computer narcissus flowers to the golden road;
Beside the lake, under the trees,
轻拂clapping and dancing and prosperity.

Stars shine as, respectively,
Flashes of the child galaxy,
Never – ending, and he showed a long line
With the Gulf of honey;
10000, is a reference to me,
Another first etude after the dance, dance.

Waves sky around, but I
Out – and – but out of the evolution of the wave of joy;
But Baldwin gay poet,
This一个jocund company;
All payroll and the next – but a few thoughts
Which leads me to show wealth:

For many times, when I lie on the couch?
The subsequent vacancy or serious mood
Later it to the foreign eyes flash
This is happiness and isolation;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
Road narcissus flowers and dancing.

William Wordsworth …