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A Tax rose is but a rose by any other name - Page 27 - Carers UK Forum

A Tax rose is but a rose by any other name

Socialise and chat about other areas of your life
687 posts

There is nothing wrong with my feet, but there is with my hands. SM didn’t even know what desert wellies were.

Me: Sandals, of course. Who doesn’t know that?

But stuff porn sites, nails and sandals; we’re now arguing over cars.

Me: I thought it was the DVLA? What’s this DVSA, formerly VOSA???

SM: So your car has been recalled…. So much for Japanese technology trumping the Germans.

Me: Well at least my Japanese recalled them… more than your German lot did, belching out all that diesel. But this sounds serious, “Our records indicate that your vehicle is affected by a safety recall and has not yet been repaired…. What repair?... Your safety and that of your passengers is of utmost concern to Suzuki…. I bet!
Oh, and now VOSA, whoever the hell they are, are now The Society of Motor Manufacturers and Traders… clear as mud!

SM: Serves you right for buying Japanese.

Me: I don’t think that’s got anything to do with anything….

But I still got my spelling wrong when I looked up their nearest website for free repairs (of what, I still don’t know.)

SM: It’s EastHAM. Not Eastman….

Me: But I got their telephone number right, that’s the important bit. And besides look at the road number; it’s 1,247th… that’s an awful long road. I bet it’s a typo, maybe the name is wrong too?

SM: No it isn’t. You just can’t spell can you?

Me: That’s what spellcheckers are for… why invent them otherwise? No I can’t… I’m a rubbish speller.

And there you have it. We haven’t even started on Europe.
He wants to get out, I want to stay in. But, despite our differences, me (well, I) are/is enjoying myself… as SheWolf has noted.

Dad had sent away for these flowers/bedding plants from some company called Morgan & Thompsom. They turned up this morning.

Me: But they all look the same.

Dad: No they’re not. Look, AB is scents of summer scarlet. CD is scents of summer soft pink. EF is scents of summer bicolour…

Me: This is insanity… Who came up with this lettering system? Let’s just plant the bloody things and see what happens.

Dad: You might be right. GH is scents of summer raspberry….

Me: I Iike raspberries… what’s next?

Dad: IJ, scents of summer patio cerise.

Dad and me (well, me) planted these scrawny looking green things, and he still doesn’t know why I was laughing as I did so.
They look a bit sorry for themselves, but I’m dying to see what ‘summer patio cerise’ actually looks like. I’m sure mum would approve.
I do hope you watered well, especially if they were sorry looking.

Dad is a fanatical garden waterer. I think that’s why our Dianthus (pinks, whatever they are) are looking so sorry… you can have too much of a good thing.

Me: Whoa… take it easy. Spray them, not splay them! Now give me that water hose.

In the middle of me chasing dad around the garden, to teach him what it felt like to be a Dianthus, SM turns up. I don’t think the heart hospital would approve of all that chasing around.

SM: Have you got that VIN number?

Me: Kind of…. It’s really long, worse than a mobile phone number. I think I mixed up the zeros with the ohhs, or the other way round. Fancy a squirt?

I then chased SM around the garden with the hosepipe. I think he enjoyed it… I just hope he doesn’t charge me for the dry cleaning bill as I really soaked him. Serves him right!
You pair of teenaged lovebirds you! What fun! I can't get my OH into the garden, never mind play BIG water pistols! (I wonder what his revenge will be? Bet he's plotting.)

Lovelorn not! Teenagers, certainly not. SM is only a few years from drawing his state pension.
But we both remember when we first met. I confessed to him, whilst rubbing him down, that I remembered leaving my school with his sister, and seeing her brother. Up until that point, I thought my girlfriends were making a fuss about nothing over boys. I had younger brothers and they were a pain. Then I saw her brother, and thought, “Wow!”
Now I knew what the fuss was about, but I didn’t know what to do about it, so I did nothing.

He remembers it differently. He, resentfully, had to meet his sister from school. He saw me, and thought I was ‘drop dead gorgeous.’
He tried to get to know me, but I pointedly ignored him.

Me: Well of course I did; I didn’t know what else to do.

But we got there in the end….. even if we are both nearly pensioners!

SM: Now about that VIN number.

Me: Oh, stuff you!
I’ve had two mini disasters this week and, given that everything comes in threes, I’m expecting a third any day now.

The first is that I somehow managed to crack the screen on my beloved laptop. I woke up Wednesday morning, and when I went to check my e-mails, my screen had been taken over by what looked like a B & W semi abstract picture of an exotic flower with a magpie in profile behind it, with its tail feathers morphing into tendrils. It also had these multi coloured dotted lines as a background.
As an image I liked it, but the bloody thing wouldn’t allow me access to anything. I then got it into my head that my computer had been taken over by some virus, probably one of those Trojan things I’ve heard about.
I turned up at my local computer repair shop on Thursday morning, going on about how I’d been invaded by a virus, taking over my laptop with a flowery magpie, and could he rescue my stuff.

Repair Man: Actually you’ve just cracked your screen.

Me: So I haven’t been invaded by a Trojan then? So where did the flowery magpie picture come from then?

RM: It didn’t come from anywhere, such patterns are entirely random. But now you’ve pointed it out, it really does look like a flowery magpie.

He then pointed out tiny cracks in the bottom left hand side of the screen.

Me: Oh yes, I see them now. But they looked like part of the flower’s pattern before.

He then told me the most likely cause was me leaving some small sharp object on the top left hand side of the keyboard bit, and when I closed the lid/screen bit, the impact cracked the screen.

I had to pay £75 to get the screen replaced. Money I could ill afford, so I raided my slummy jars.

SM: Why didn’t you let me know?

Me: Because you’d have insisted on paying that’s why. And, anyway, my slummy jars sorted it.

SM: No I wouldn’t. You broke it, you pay for it. But I could’ve got you a much better deal…

Me: Don’t tell me…. You know a man….

SM: Exactly.

Bloody smart arse!

Mini disaster Number Two followed on the heels of Number 1. On my way back from dropping off my laptop for repair, I spotted cherries for sale; the first of the season… Yum!
I bought a kilo of them as it was much cheaper that way. I had plans to make a cherry flan, and they would last a few days.
I didn’t mean to eat them all on the way home. But they were so moreish I just kept popping them into my gob, spitting out the stones (I love the noise the stone makes when it hits the bag) until they were all gone.
I’d eaten a kilo of cherries in about 10-15 minutes.
At first I just felt a bit bloated and uncomfortable. Then a bit queasy, then more queasy, then a bit nauseous, then very nauseous, then I was projectile vomiting; for hours.

Not surprisingly, I’d completely forgotten about SM coming around. I’d actually stopped projectile vomiting by then, and was down to just chucking up water; it wouldn’t stay down.
But I was covered in sweat, with hair like rat’s tails refusing to leave the sink… just in case.

SM: You do look green about the gills. How did this happen?

I explained about the cherries. He was not impressed.

SM: Serves you right, you greedy piglet. That will teach you not to have eyes bigger than your belly. I’ve got to go out now.

I honestly thought he’d pissed off, and I didn’t give a shit. “Good riddance, you pompous prat; have you never been sick before?”

What I really wanted to do was to go to sleep, which I did.

But he hadn’t pissed off. He’d gone to buy some stuff to settle my stomach. I was woken up by dad and SM wanting me to drink this drink. I was seriously annoyed, and a bit disorientated, and told them both to f off, amongst other things. My dad was shocked at my language.

Dad: What’s up with S?

SM: Don’t worry about it. It’s quite common. Lizard brain. She’s dehydrated from throwing up and sweating so much; her electrolytes are out of balance.

They thought I couldn’t hear but I could. I demanded to know what was in this drink, and what an electrolites was.

SM: Never mind about the electrolytes right now, just drink the drink.

Me: What’s in it?

SM: Nothing more than peppermint tea, honey and a good pinch of salt.

Me: If you two take a swig each then I will… or nothing doing.

They did, and I did…. And this concoction actually worked.

My stomach settled (maybe it was due to anyway?) and I slept like a baby.
SheWolf, SM’s sympathetic nature got worse. The 7 P’s apparently.

Me: You what!

I didn’t want to go to Wales. I couldn’t face the thought of the car journey, and I was worried I’d throw up in his precious car. He was worried that if we didn’t leave soon we’d be stuck in traffic jams on the A55.

SM: Sorted!

His 7 P’s are ‘Prior Planning & Preparation Prevents Piss Poor Performance.’

I ended up with a rug thrown over my lap, a tea towel as a bib, a washing up bowl on my lap to throw up into, and wet-wipes in the glove compartment.

The man’s a maniac, but it worked. We got to Wales without incident, but I was really tired, so went to bed really early. I woke up at about 3AM, feeling really hungry.
I snuck out of bed being really quite as I didn’t want to disturb him. I was going to make myself a cheese sarnie or something.
But then I spotted bacon in the fridge. Maybe it was the smell of frying bacon that awoke SM?

SM: I see you’ve got your appetite back.

Me: Yes….. Care to join me?

He did. And we enjoyed bacon butties at 3AM licking butter off our fingers…. So much for that Paleo diet!

I joined my dad in those Chinese exercises at his heart hospital. I thought they’d be dead easy. They’re really difficult to do. You have to concentrate and do them really slow – not my strong point – but I did them!
Dad drove me to belly dance classes. Expect they’d been cancelled…. Because her mum had died.

I then made him stop the car as I thought some bloke was in trouble. I thought he was having a heart attack… not that I could’ve helped anyway.

But this young bloke was really panicking. It turned out they were Jehovas Witnesses. I yelled at them, “Loosen his tie, and let him breath.”

They did, and he did. I think I may of saved this bloke’s life. Regardless, I made dad and me sneak into the garden…. They’re Jehovas Wittnesses…. Let’s ignore them!
687 posts