You are allowed to enjoy this…

Today, getting in tune with my accounts. A letter from Mr Taxman reminds me that he wants to know what I am up to, so I begin the yearly slog of figuring out all the numbers. I do it all myself and use the online self-assessment doo-hickey. It’s all rather clever. My problem is that I am a number dyslexic, so I have to double, triple, quadruple, quintuple, sextuple, septuble, quadruple check… 🙂
Luckily, being a freelance writer and not having any outgoings or materials or staff means that I have a relatively easy time of submitting my tax return. I just tell them how much I’ve earnt and how much I want deducted as spendables (this doesn’t come to much: envelopes, sundries, etc)
Loaf of the Day:

It’s a standard white loaf…slightly blurred because my hands were shaking in delight at the wonder of this vision of bread-based loveliness.
My current commission is all about Internet privacy and just how easy it is to find people on the Internet. As part of my research, I managed to find the address of my father (though he might have already moved on). So I got to thinking that if he is so easy to find, then I must be doubly, triply, quadriply easy to find. So I got to thinking that if my half-sister knows where I am, maybe she doesn’t get in touch because she doesn’t want to? Or maybe I am just thinking aloud too much, eh? Basically, in this day and age, if you have an internet connection, you are pretty easy to find…it’s just whether or not anyone wants to find you…
For example, my house looks like this from the air:

The Washington Post is reporting that Father Dougal Maguire of Craggy Island is the outside runner to be the next Pope:
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/articles/A26353-2005Apr4.html
It could be just what the Vatican needs! 😉

Yesterday, we travelled to see the new baby. I was a bit apprehensive, but my fears were for nothing. My new strategy is to actively seek out those events that I would naturally avoid. I am trying not to have fear. It’s a tough one.
But anyway, we saw the new baby and it was a big baby weighing in at 9lb. A big bonnie baby. 🙂 The Missus held her for a while and played the doting auntie. I declined. I am too macho and tough to be seen holding babies! (No – I was just scared – whoops, fell at the first hurdle there, Darren).
But the afternoon went very well and gifts were exchanged and stories were told of breaking waters, dilations and umbilical cords. It was good to commune with the family. Being someone from a very small family (and been denied contact with my errant father’s side of the family), I am always awkward in this situations. I never know what to do or say and I usually say something that comes out wrong. But luckily, I kept my cool and was cool and everything went well. It was a life-affirming experience.
Today, sunshine and work. In the interest in the new stategy, I am thinking of cutting the grass again. 🙂
With regards to the Grand National, my horse finished sixth. Nil Desperandum. Seemed apt and had the form. Luckily, I did a lucky 15 accumulator and two of my other horses romped in (one of them was 100-1 and came third, giving me a decent return) so I didn’t lose too much money. The horses backed by The Missus went out at 10-1 and came back at half-past six (old horse joke). She did badly this year, which is strange because normally her idiot savant gambling abilities enables her to pick the Grand National winner. Oh well, better luck next year, eh?
In the post: Sketches of Satie by John & Steve Hackett CD

Noticed that Tortoise were playing the RFH as part of an African music season (go figure) and nabbed some decent tickets last night.
Today, heading out with the Missus to go to Mothercare. Don’t fear, gentle reader, the Missus does not have a bun in the oven. We are going to buy a gift for her brother’s new baby daughter. That’s right, The Missus has become an auntie and I am an uncle. I don’t think this is going to have much impact on my life as we don’t get along with that side of the family (mainly because they don’t like me for being a poor freelance writer – not that I’m bad at my job, that I don’t earn enough moolah and do an “honest” days work for them). 🙁
This afternoon, gambling on the Grand National. The horses are ready, the potential winners have been picked and my virtual betting slip is filled. Me and The Missus will be hollering for our respective nags. She’s won it before, but I am feeling lucky today.

Brrr…it seems that the icy grip of Winter has returned. It’s cold and miserable, and so am I. 😀
Steve Hackett is playing down the road at the Broadway Theatre in Barking next Saturday so we both decided to see the concert again. It’s a night out and the tickets were a lot cheaper. I just hope it doesn’t get cancelled.
In the post today:
Anna Gabriel – Growing Up On Tour DVD

Got my polling cards yesterday. Oh yeah, I’m going to exercise my constitutional rights on 5 May. Who will I vote for? That’s between me and the ballot paper, I am afraid, but it is safe to say that I won’t be voting for my local BNP candidate.

Caught the third episode of “The Office – An American Workplace”. I am still enjoying it on the same level as the UK version. The characters are well realised and it was very similar to the UK episode where Gareth was put in charge of finding someone who made a pornographic image. In the US episode, the porn was replaced by a health plan.

As more TV shows swap across the pond, the UK is currently broadcasting its version of the successful US-show, “The Apprentice”. Gone is Donald Trump, replaced by Alan Sugar. I am enjoying this show too, but it lacks the scope and complete dumbassness (OK – that’s not a word) of its US counterpart. If you watched the US version of “The Apprentice” you would see how the US “Office” has got it right because they use the same kind of speak.

Anyway, “The Apprentice” UK is still good fun. But I have a problem…Alan Sugar looks too much like Nookie the Bear for me.

Nookie the Bear

Alan Sugar

It was one of those days yesterday. First off, the problem of the Missus’s PC not being able to connect to the wireless network reared its head again. Despite buying a load of new gear, I am beginning to think that this is an issue with Windows ME and that maybe I should upgrade her to XP.
Then some little herbert decided to hack one of my other websites. It wasn’t too serious but it meant that my evening was taken up with putting it all back together again.
Another problem I have been having is with my bank, Abbey (or Abbey National as my card and chequebook still calls them). I ran out of cheques and urgently need a new chequebook. I ordered a new chequebook from the ATM machine a fortnight ago but nothing has arrived, so I called their help line to find out what was going on. Unfortunately, Abbey has outsourced to an Indian call-centre and so this makes communication a little difficult. I am pretty good with accents, having been raised in the East End of London and going to school with children from many different ethnic groups, but the woman I was dealing with spoke so fast and had such a strong accent I had to ask her to repeat everything. Then she couldn’t understand what I was saying…
So it took me about 10 minutes to get through the security clearing, before she told me that there was a block on my account meaning that I can’t have another chequebook. This completely stuffs me and makes my bank account with the Abbey useless. So I ask why? She can’t tell me. She says I must go to my local bank to find out. I don’t want to do this, I just want a new cheque book and carry on with my business unaffected. I wouldn’t mind if the Abbey had sent me a letter or phoned to call about this block, but instead I have been left in the dark and to worry that my chequebook has been stolen in the post. So now I will be withdrawing my money and going elsewhere, partly because the Abbey never warned me about this, partly because of the Indian call centre. I am going to take my cash to the Nationwide Building Society, which has vowed never to outsource their telephone operations.
Then Alex the Wonderdog decided to throw up on the stairs at midnight and I did a bit of a Jack Douglas and spilt the bowl of disinfectant/puke water all over myself.
Moan, moan, moan…will this man ever stop? 🙂