yes, we've had a key for my wife's car missing for at least 2 years. Now that she has ordered a replacement and is picking it up this weekend, I expect the other missing key will turn up.
Of course, given that they have to perform electronic re-coding trickery on the new and existing key, if the prodigal returns, it will be useless
Ah, but you would have to replace them with the exact same thing (e.g. leather-backed Shakespeare, not a cheaper version, and same freaking tag, not a substitute). Only after going to all that trouble will the gods of lost things laugh and throw your stuff back at you.
Ah, but you would have to replace them with the exact same thing (e.g. leather-backed Shakespeare, not a cheaper version, and same freaking tag, not a substitute). Only after going to all that trouble will the gods of lost things laugh and throw your stuff back at you.
Often, I find I just have to "pretend" I don't care, and stuff comes boomeranging back. Often doesn't work under time constraints, unfortunately.
I hope my mislaid library book appears. It could be in either bedroom, both are in the process of being rearranged. I did find a $25 Garden Centre voucher though
There was one thing I lost (can't remember what) and I had to go through the entire house, three floors, starting at the top, during the search producing an inventory of what was where (now completely unreliable) until I reached the very last place in a corner of the ground floor study, where the lost was found. (Biblical reference was made!) My father used to comment that people saying "it was the last place I looked" were not using the language well, since no-one would go on looking after finding whatever it was, of course it was the last place. But in that case, it was the last place.
Lost the car keys yesterday. Found them, though, after using the spares, which had themselves been found the day before after being lost during the troubles. I'd actually put them somewhere very sensible! And remembered where!
The Shakespeare bothers me because it never left the house, and somewhere, my brain ought to know where I put it down. The keys left the house and could have been dropped without my noticing.
I once took four teens and two guitars to a weekend camp in my very small car. On returning home, my thick heavy expensive Study Bible was not to be found. Everytime I needed it, I got more and more sorry for myself. Finally, before a similar camp the following year, I bought a new one. On loading up the car, and not wanting it to get banged up, I decided to slip it underneath the driver's seat in a space that was pretty much exactly the size of the book. I had to get right down on my knees to figure out why it wouldn't go in. Sure enough, there was the "lost" Bible. If anyone needs one, I have two.
And, in order to not just continue a tangent but also add to the thread, TICTH bureaucratic paperwork and the neverendingness thereof.
Pectus Excavatum
!5 year old Grandson just been diagnosed. He is the middle, supposedly 'normal', one between two siblings with complex genetic disabilities, including autism, for whom he has shared caring duties with his parents. This seems so unfair!
RoseofSharon, many years ago, I accompanied a friend while her son had surgery for this. It wasn't fun but it made a huge difference. I hope that something can help your grandson.
Thank you for the encouraging words.
He has been referred to the hospital, so now we wait for an appointment to find out what effect it is having on his internal organs, and if surgery is necessary. Just hoping he doesn't have to wait too long.
I'm not quite sure how this version works, but I want to consign to Hell the forms I get asking me to rate everything I've done. Very often my reaction is, "I was perfectly happy with your service - until you started pestering me like this!"
I'm not quite sure how this version works, but I want to consign to Hell the forms I get asking me to rate everything I've done. Very often my reaction is, "I was perfectly happy with your service - until you started pestering me like this!"
I'm not quite sure how this version works, but I want to consign to Hell the forms I get asking me to rate everything I've done. Very often my reaction is, "I was perfectly happy with your service - until you started pestering me like this!"
You might like this - a three and a half minute listen. (Scottish comedian Moray Hunter as Calum Gilhooley.)
I'm not quite sure how this version works, but I want to consign to Hell the forms I get asking me to rate everything I've done. Very often my reaction is, "I was perfectly happy with your service - until you started pestering me like this!"
Why don't you tell them this.
We do, over and over, but companies continue to do it.
I'm not quite sure how this version works, but I want to consign to Hell the forms I get asking me to rate everything I've done. Very often my reaction is, "I was perfectly happy with your service - until you started pestering me like this!"
If I have the time, and can be ar*ed, I fill in their wretched form but say I'm deducting a half-star for being solicited for a review.
I worked for a company that had to meet certain standards to be certified by some organization (I don't remember what it was called) in order to be considered for some jobs in the private sector and government jobs. One of the requirements was to get a specified percentage of feedback forms from customers, and of course a specified percentage of positive responses. So I usually fill those things out if it can be done in just a few minutes on-line.
I'm not quite sure how this version works, but I want to consign to Hell the forms I get asking me to rate everything I've done. Very often my reaction is, "I was perfectly happy with your service - until you started pestering me like this!"
Why don't you tell them this.
The latest was a form from my hospital about my cancer treatment. This was sent THREE times. Finally I wrote across it in red, "I am not well. In fact I have cancer. Please stop persecuting me with your demands," and sent that back. I hope they won't ask again.
Back in 2000 I got a letter from the hospital, which I thought was going to tell me that my stillborn son's post-mortem results were available and to make an appointment to discuss them.
I made a coffee, took a deep breath, opened the envelope.
It was a survey asking, inter alia, if I had breast fed my son ("no, he was dead"), if no, had I been offered support to breastfeed him ("thank God, no"), what would have encouraged me to breastfeed him ("a pulse") and so on.
The covering letter explained that the survey had been anonymised, so that my identity would remain secret, so I didn't expect an apology. I hope my answers gave them pause for thought before sending any other breastfeeding surveys.
I've heard of this sort of thing before. Either people in the same department don't talk to each other, or different departments don't talk to each other. Whatever. The result is the same - Misery...
Many, many years ago, in the throes of searching for my first job after graduating, and laboriously filling in masses of application forms by hand, I received one more form from some government department asking how I was employed. I informed them that I was working for a women's lib organization in Aberdeen as a eunuch (to be honest, I wasn't). I still haven't heard back from them.
The postperson entrusted with an A4 envelope labelled to be signed for - they didn't know it contained a death certificate, posted carefully and separately from other mail from the council that was in a smaller envelope, and described as "secure post". Though, yesterday, it was inside the house, it had not been signed for by the intended recipient, and had clearly been outside in the heavy rain on Sunday. It was distressing for the recipient to find it in that state. Lucky that it had not been blown away.
TICTH the excess Water with which we are currently afflicted.
I know you hate us, but please, O Netherlands, Germany, Denmark, and Belgium, keep at least some of it on your side of whatever you now call the stretch of water between you and us, marooned here on Boris Island...
O quite - but there are times when the excess Water means that I can't embark, or disembark, which latter is OK (there is always sustenance on board), unless I need to be Somewhere Else.
TICTH food poisoning and the soup eaten at Dunelm which must have caused it. Driving in the snow is made more adventurous, but not more fun, when you have to stop to vomit!
TICTH HM Revenue and Customs. I filled in an online form for sending my belongings back to Scotland, and it's been refused because they need my sister to confirm that I'm going to be staying with her.
I'm a British citizen, was born there and paid tax there for over 20 years - how bl**dy dare they?
I suppose this is part of Priti Awful Patel's "hostile environment" ...
Suggest you pop an email to her MP and MSP. Mention, if you can bear to, that you are a bereaved widow returning to your native country of which you are a full citizen and ask why in heaven’s name it’s any business where in the U.K. you are staying.
Sorry for the direness of British officialdom. I agree flagging this up to your sister's MP and MSP seems a good idea. In the meantime I hope you can jump through this hoop and get your stuff actually moved.
Take a deep breath, jump through the hoop, but still let your sister's MP/MSP know, in the manner suggested by @BroJames.
Keep copies to send to the press, if necessary.
TICTH the potholes in our local roads (which are more pothole than road in some places), and which (so my Mechanical Man tells me) are probably responsible for the Episcopal Chariot's broken spring. The repairs have cost me over £350, as some other remedial work was necessary.
Suggest you pop an email to her MP and MSP. Mention, if you can bear to, that you are a bereaved widow returning to your native country of which you are a full citizen and ask why in heaven’s name it’s any business where in the U.K. you are staying.
I suspect it would be better if your sister wrote and sent the emails. Otherwise you might just get a reply saying, "As someone who does not (yet) reside in my Constituency, I regret that I cxannot reply to your concerns".
I doubt if a missive from Piglet herself would even be acknowledged...though these matters may be dealt with more politely in Blessed Alba than in Boris Rumpland.
On a theme, the immigration policy that Revokes a British man's passport with no warning and only dubious reason, leaving him stateless and homeless in another country.
Piglet, may I suggest, if you don’t already have one, that you get a U.K. bank account asap, register with a GP, join a library, and do as much as you can as soon as you can to provide evidence that you intend to resettle here.
Comments
yes, we've had a key for my wife's car missing for at least 2 years. Now that she has ordered a replacement and is picking it up this weekend, I expect the other missing key will turn up.
Of course, given that they have to perform electronic re-coding trickery on the new and existing key, if the prodigal returns, it will be useless
No luck - a temporary lash-up will have to do, until either the Mend Ing comes on duty, or I summon a Friend Wot Knows How To Fix Things...
Often, I find I just have to "pretend" I don't care, and stuff comes boomeranging back. Often doesn't work under time constraints, unfortunately.
Lost the car keys yesterday. Found them, though, after using the spares, which had themselves been found the day before after being lost during the troubles. I'd actually put them somewhere very sensible! And remembered where!
The Shakespeare bothers me because it never left the house, and somewhere, my brain ought to know where I put it down. The keys left the house and could have been dropped without my noticing.
And, in order to not just continue a tangent but also add to the thread, TICTH bureaucratic paperwork and the neverendingness thereof.
!5 year old Grandson just been diagnosed. He is the middle, supposedly 'normal', one between two siblings with complex genetic disabilities, including autism, for whom he has shared caring duties with his parents. This seems so unfair!
I do hope they can sort it with surgery.
He has been referred to the hospital, so now we wait for an appointment to find out what effect it is having on his internal organs, and if surgery is necessary. Just hoping he doesn't have to wait too long.
Why don't you tell them this.
That's the way to do it....
We do, over and over, but companies continue to do it.
If I have the time, and can be ar*ed, I fill in their wretched form but say I'm deducting a half-star for being solicited for a review.
The latest was a form from my hospital about my cancer treatment. This was sent THREE times. Finally I wrote across it in red, "I am not well. In fact I have cancer. Please stop persecuting me with your demands," and sent that back. I hope they won't ask again.
I made a coffee, took a deep breath, opened the envelope.
It was a survey asking, inter alia, if I had breast fed my son ("no, he was dead"), if no, had I been offered support to breastfeed him ("thank God, no"), what would have encouraged me to breastfeed him ("a pulse") and so on.
The covering letter explained that the survey had been anonymised, so that my identity would remain secret, so I didn't expect an apology. I hope my answers gave them pause for thought before sending any other breastfeeding surveys.
I've heard of this sort of thing before. Either people in the same department don't talk to each other, or different departments don't talk to each other. Whatever. The result is the same - Misery...
I know you hate us, but please, O Netherlands, Germany, Denmark, and Belgium, keep at least some of it on your side of whatever you now call the stretch of water between you and us, marooned here on Boris Island...
But hey - Nothing Really Matters...
{{{{{{{Everybody}}}}}}}
I'm a British citizen, was born there and paid tax there for over 20 years - how bl**dy dare they?
I suppose this is part of Priti Awful Patel's "hostile environment" ...
Take a deep breath, jump through the hoop, but still let your sister's MP/MSP know, in the manner suggested by @BroJames.
Keep copies to send to the press, if necessary.
TICTH the potholes in our local roads (which are more pothole than road in some places), and which (so my Mechanical Man tells me) are probably responsible for the Episcopal Chariot's broken spring. The repairs have cost me over £350, as some other remedial work was necessary.
I doubt if a missive from Piglet herself would even be acknowledged...though these matters may be dealt with more politely in Blessed Alba than in Boris Rumpland.
I read about that case, A-in-E - I doubt that the UK would have the nerve to revoke my passport, as they did with that poor bloke.
There's always someone worse off than me ...