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Friday, July 06, 2012

It's an indisputable fact that we're all looking for different things in life. Which is why Lisa ignored all the men with hair and a flat stomach, and opted for one with a hairy stomach and a flat. It's where we get the phrase 'different strokes for different folks'. And 'what'choo talkin' 'bout, Willis'.

I, for example, wouldn't want someone like this at my party...

But there are others out there - some of them clinically sane - who are only too happy to invite this person to their birthday celebrations. There's simply no accounting for taste.

When I picked Amelie up from nursery yesterday, I was handed a personalised party invitation from one of her pre-school classmates. It was addressed to Emily, but apparently that's close enough. Amelie spent a good three months telling us she had a friend called Jinson. We've only just recently found out his name's Vincent.

So I accepted it on her behalf. It's Am's very first party, so it's quite a major milestone, and it's taking place on August 3rd. By which time we should have a five-day-old baby. It also means that we might have to return the favour by throwing a party for Am in October. And unfortunately, the bar's been set pretty high. Never mind jelly & ice cream with musical statues, this party involves an open-top bus tour of Brighton, followed by cake in the Pavilion Gardens. It's going to piss on my pass-the-parcel.

But as it happens, that wasn't the only thing I picked up from nursery yesterday. I was also handed a letter from the admin office, which began with the words "As you are aware...", and followed them up with three paragraphs of information that was totally new to me.

The letter states that due to an error on their part, Amelie's nursery fees for June weren't deducted from my salary, so they'll be taking double the amount in July. Which would be fine, were it not for the fact that I have my payslip, clearly stating that they did deduct the fees in June. The letter suggests that if I want to discuss the matter further, I should see the nursery manager. Which is a bit like spotting Nessie at night in the fog.

As I've discovered over the course of their many regular mistakes, speaking to the nursery manager is a bit like shaking hands with Bigfoot. Lord Lucan hangs out in that office more than she does. The only person available yesterday told me that she was "just covering because there's no one here today". And as a result, she knew nothing. Which is pretty much par for the course. You'd have more luck nailing jelly to the wall than pinning them down at that nursery.


Phil's Mum said...

You must admit they're consistent.

Peter Chapman said...

For some reason I read the 'F' word in your final sentence when it wasn't even there.

Phil said...

You must have tuned in to my thoughts.