Strange Sighting In Finchley...

Last week, I walked to the tube behind a rather dapper young(ish) man, carrying a rolled up umbrella in one hand, and what was apparently a dirty tea-towel in the other. I thought about it all that day. I even posted it to Facebook on an ask the audience basis, to find out what the hive brain thought. And I *still* don't know.

Do you?

iNew...

Oh no, the promo video for the new iPad actually says "new innovation". Oh dear.

Seasonal musings..

So there's a few things I've noticed recently:

- Zara Philips: shouldn't she have had a manicure before the big engagement-ring-showy-offy photos? They've been living together for ages, it can hardly have been a suprise

- do you hate it as much as I do when the little widgets from other sites you've been to (DIY stores, property websites) pop up in other places WITH THE STUFF YOU LOOKED AT. It feels almost like being stalked. Personalised web experience? Sure. Freaky feeling that makes me never want to visit them again? Fersure.

- I am experimenting with faux-mincemeat (ie vegetarian beef-suet-free) - it is currently doing its thing and I will attempt mince pies tomorrow. As well as challah:)

- I am totally in love with my ice-gripper stabilicer type things. I actually feel secure when on snowy/icy ground: I recommend them to you all. (Although I notice they have put the price up by £5 - £10 since I bought them six weeks ago: I guess it's supply and demand, but even so.)

wedding shoes

wedding shoes
Originally uploaded by sashinka-uk

My wedding shoes... because why wear white when you don't want to. They were Wizard of Oz (just click your heels) meets some kind of Victo-Edwardiana that totally floats my boat.

Aaaaaargh

Aaaaaargh
Originally uploaded by sashinka-uk

What a relief that less than a week into the engagement, some publishing company is already (allegedly) raking it in with the royal wedding love story memorial dead-tree magazine.

They look so happy. But then so did Charles and Di. I'm not getting all Bishop of Willesden over this, I just think... enough already. Or, don't even start. Do we care? I think not...

http

http
Originally uploaded by sashinka-uk

Start 'em young, I say...

Sadly, the polystyrene bath letters don't have colons, but, hey, you're never to young to learn what will doubtless become an old-fashioned internet protocol...

Powercut breakfast

Powercut breakfast
Originally uploaded by sashinka-uk

Milk's probably gone off in the fridge, it's hour 11 of the power cut and I'm charging everything in a downtown finchley cafe

No one knows anything

No one knows anything
Originally uploaded by sashinka-uk

Downtown Citta di Castella, seeking the "retro" market in a thunderstorm. Finally found it - Camden circa 1990 in a beautiful medieval square.

Welcome to suburbia

Welcome to suburbia
Originally uploaded by sashinka-uk

So, I've arrived. And I have broadband (and wifi) after five days in the literal **wilderness**. It's so quiet here... I can't sleep.

But hey. We have our own front door. And a suburban street. And neighbours who pop in. And a big eat-in kitchen. And an office for D.

All in all, nice, even if it does take a little getting used to.

A sign of my own stupidity...

trolley
Originally uploaded by sashinka-uk

See, this is one of those things you have in your car, which REPLICATES a pound coin. So when you get to a supermarket if you don't have a pound you can put this handy item in the trolley and shop.

It's slightly naff, so obviously I don't put it on my keyring. And anway, my keyring is full of... many keys I cannot entirely indentify.

This ... faux pound makes me feel stupid everytime I use it. Because? Because it cost me two pounds.

It's a cipher - a sign - of everything I get wrong in my life. At some point, I can't remember, I was clearly in a shop where I thought, hey, two pounds for a thing that does the job of a pound. That's a bargain. Or, hey, why don't I buy an unecesary item where I only have one of them, to replicate pound coins, of which I have many. That'll be smart.

And in having an additional belonging, I have to **do** stuff with it. I have to keep it somewhere. I have to remember where I kept it. I have to remember to get it back (rather than trading pound coins with a randomer in the supermarket). If I'm in a massive hurry and it's pouring and Zaphod (small child) is screaming, I don't think "oh, it's only a pound, leave it for someone else to find and have a nice day" abandaning my trolley with free cash in it. I think - that would be wasting two pounds, go get it.

So, short fom: my faux-pound makes me feel actually-stupid.

And also, the more expensive the supermarket, the less it works. Lidl - fine. Tesco - no. Sainsbury - no. Waitrose - I didn't even try.

Learn from me, people.

The Self-Storage Self

Somehow, as I recycle, declutter, unecumber myself of five years of tax records / phone bills etc, this article my beloved sent to me last year seems a little resonant: The Self-Storage Self - Storing All the Stuff We Accumulate.

Of course, I'm getting rid, as they say in Manchester, so hopefully it doesn't apply to me...

Oh, and now I can recycle the printout. Stuff. It's all about being able to find something again, and then you have so much stuff you can't. Aaah: the internet.

Current Status

Decluttering. Containerising. Selling flat (after a *very* long time living here). Moving (temporarily). Househunting. Redundancy (not mine). Working. Holidaying. Househunting. New job (not mine). All the yomtavim (Jewish New Year). Getting married (ok, to the same guy, long story). Busy. :)

Hack Things Better

Just discovered sugru - sounds like playdough for grownups (not that I'm complaining)... can't wait to get my hands on some.

Oh, and sorry I didn't blog in like, forever. You wouldn't believe what's been going on.

Overheard at a cocktail party:

People get divorced for three things - sex, money and untidiness. (Apparently).

Apple cake

Apple cake
Originally uploaded by sashinka-uk

My latest culinary experiment - dead easy apple cake (although you should do it in a bundt tin, according to the recipe, and this one was a little.. undercooked in the middle).

William Morris Quote

Craft project?

In other news, I feel I could save myself £79 and make a Floral Velvet Pouffe.

Doublethink – The Digital Economy Bill against the digital economy

As ever, Mike Butcher hits the nail on the head with an incisive analysis of the the Digital Economy Bill, now at its third reading and likely to change the face of the previously start-up friendly UK.

Ohdear.

British Gas Years (chorus)

So Ken, the bloke they sent round yesterday had real "grey hair" (experience) as they say in business, as well as real grey hair, and I felt strangely comforted by his appearance of knowing what he was doing. He sat on the countertop leaning in towards the boiler like an old-fashioned doctor sitting on a sick kid's bed, stethescope-in-ear.

"It looks like you need an inexplicable-part-A, and your inexplicable-part-B is pitted. Of course they never replace inexplicable-part-B, they'd rather just give you £600 towards a new boiler."

I asked if he carried parts. He raised an eyebrow in a just-in-time way. I asked if he could arrange for a first-thing visit tomorrow (now today) and he practically laughed in my face. I settled for an 8 till 12, silently plotting how to get someone to sit in as I have a big meeting in the afternoon.

(Sidenote: I find the logistics of running a metaphorical house (flat) strangely comforting; bizarrely enjoying the delicate balancing of grocery orders, childcare, shirt service, household maintenance, online banking, dry cleaning, green-lightbulb-sourcing, recycling and list making. It's as if I'm running a very large (and very long) project in the background to all the other projects I'm doing, and I was already working out where we could shower and who I could get to wait in. I bought my Mum a Chief Household Officer mug because she trained me well in the art of executive fridge management and listmaking, although I quite like the Messenger / Nappy bag too.)

Ken maintains his "I have a British Gas script, we can't get even the Queen a timed apppointment. A Technical Services Manager will not attend without three days notice (I'd asked for someone more knowledgable after the same guy came three times but I still had a problem). The first appointments go at three weeks notice. Rules-is-rules" stance.

He leaves, and tells me someone else will come tomorrow. I can't tell if he's got the day off or he's marked me as a difficult customer with whom he doesn't want to get involved, professionally speaking.

My conversation with NAM happened just after Ken's visit, and I felt like, hey, this'll get sorted.

About two hours later, I get a blocked call from Ken.

"Hi Mzzzz Froooz, it's Ken."

I say hi.

"You must know someone really important in British Gas. I've just had my earholes bent off by the NAM (who he implies his quite a bundle of rungs up the foodchain). I dunno who you know, but they've arranged two engineers to come at 8.30 tomorrow after they've got the parts, and they're booked out all day. They're replacing two inexplicable-part-As and also inexplicable-part-B, which is tricky to fit. They're bringing in a [boiler brand] specialist who knows your boiler inside out. My boss Tony'll come and oversee it. We've been told to fix this, and keep the customer happy. I don't know who you are, no-one gets this. Anyway, I'm off tomorrow, but hope it all goes well."

I thank him, and mention that I'd sung his praises in relation to his experience. I hope he has a good day off. I say this vaguely realising days off are as much for funerals and queing at banks as they are for nice things.

Moral of the story: (a) Top-Down customer service chasing clearly gets better results than Bottom-Up. If you can get out of the customer contact centre loop. (b) Keep everyone's mobile number, even if it's for 5 years and you can't imagine why you'd ever call them again.

Proof of the pudding: let's see if we have lift-off when I get back from my big meeting this afternoon. Otherwise, we'll be entering our second heating/hot-water free week. Least we have nice neighbours. Least it's Spring(ish).

The British Gas Years (reprise)

So it's happened to us all... your boiler breaks down, your service supplier is inefficient, you have an intermittent fault, blahblahblah.

Back in 2002, I had some serious hassle (referred to as The British Gas Years.

Then, in 2004/5, I had some similar problems, which in my mind I wrote about extensively, but my archive tells me not.

In the end, I had the mobile phone number for Paul F*******, the British Gas area manager for North London, who lit a few tapers under people's behinds and got it fixed.

In desperation, I called him this morning. No surprise that he's still not in the same job, but he's still with British Gas (moved even higher up the foodchain) and was charming and lovely and got the new area manager to call me back within an hour.

So I've had my fourth engineer visit this morning - finally, at 11.15, after waiting since 8am) and they need more parts. But New Area Manager (NAM) has (a) left me his mobile no, (b) promised that a senior enginner will attend tomorrow morning, and (c) promised that I can get seen at 8.30 after they collect the parts from the Post Office (who knew, they used the Post Office for deliveries).

So, the moral of the tale? Always work down, not up, in a customer service sense.

My husband has just asked me if I'd like to phone his manager's manager's manager (who I think must run the whole shebang) to complain about him, but I don't have any complaints:)