Subscribe: Subscribe to me on YouTube

Wednesday, January 16, 2013

Sadly I wasn't able to blog yesterday as I popped over to New York for a bit of activity...

To be honest, I'm not sure the phrase 'Arm Yourself' is really the best one to use with Americans. They're already claiming that Sandy Hook didn't happen in an effort to keep their guns. In fact, as of today, more than eight million sick-minded people have watched the film mentioned here, and I'm sad to say I'm one of them. Although in my case, it's more a sickness of the upper respiratory tract than a disease of the mind. Frankly it's hard to fill your time when you're off work.

Anyhoo, it's basically 'Bollocks: The Movie', with some added spelling mistakes, and I wouldn't recommend you waste half an hour of your life on it. I don't know whether to be depressed that people believe this stuff, or impressed at mankind's ingenuity. Let's face it, it takes a lot of imagination to come up with these conspiracy theories in the face of obvious facts.

On the subject of my death-defying week off work, I think I've now reached the stage of my illness where I need to spend a month convalescing on the south coast with a sea view and some sunshine. Unfortunately I'm already there, and I feel no better. My actual symptoms have improved a little: I feel less achey, and I'm talking myself into a belief that my throat is less sore. Although every time I do talk, it hurts.

But for some reason I feel desperately tired. Frankly if I wasn't living with a hyperactive four-year-old and a crying baby, I could happily sleep all day. As it is, I can barely sleep at night. I'm tempted to go into work just to have a nap in a dimly lit grading room.

But at the moment I'm sticking it out at home, trying to recuperate. On the insurance front, we're still waiting for the report from the plumber, which is disappointing as the council gave us the impression on Monday that they were sending it out immediately. On the bright side, I've been through a box of old receipts, guarantees and general junk that lives under the bed, and in addition to finding the one receipt Churchill have asked for, I also found this...

It's a signed photo of Nick Abbot, circa 1997, and is worth marginally less than nothing. By which I mean you'd have to pay someone to take it. I was going through a difficult period in my life at the time, and felt that a picture of a Talk Radio presenter might help ease my troubles. So I wrote in and requested one. It was shortly afterwards that I heard Nick mention on air that he gets the work experience boy to sign all his photos.

But I'm treasuring it nonetheless, particularly as it's one of my few paper possessions that wasn't dripped on by flood water. On that subject, I'd just like to thank all the people who have offered advice regarding her upstairs, and our claim, small or otherwise. Lisa and I have discussed it at length (which is why my throat is so slow to improve), and at this point we're still undecided. It's essentially a battle between what's fair and just, and what's best for our own peace of mind.

The small claims court seems like the most sensible option, but when you're permanently separated from an oddball by just a few inches of leaky concrete, it makes you reluctant to risk bringing further trouble raining down on our heads. She's a bit of an unknown quantity, owns a couple of scary-looking dogs, and might not be worth antagonising for the sake of a hundred quid. Which isn't the fair option, of course, but might just turn out to be wise.


Phil's Mum said...

Also, she'll probably claim she has no money so CAN'T pay.  And what will the Court do then?  If they put her in prison, you'll get the dogs! 

Phil's Mum said...

I'd like to say I'll be taking the hyper-active 4-year-old away on Friday morning, but even that depends on whether the weather-forecasters are to be believed!