The season has decided to take a break from warm and sunny to wet and windy, and the boiler has decided to take a break full stop. No CH or hot water. An engineer tomorrow sometime between 8 am and 6pm.
TICTH the garden-dwelling bitey bastards that sunk their 'fangs' into my wrist yesterday leaving me with a brace of red, hot blisters and a swollen hand.
(I am given to this sort of reaction to the bite of flying things and it's less hot than yesterday when it happened, but it aches and I'm fed up).
Firenze, I always love the pin point accuracy of their intended arrival times and the way inanimate objects like boilers have of detecting precisely the right time to go on strike.
TICTH God. Over and over again the poor are sent away empty and the rich filled with good things. What happened to the Magnificat vision? I feel like it has been torn down and sold for scrap.
My candidate for Hell today is my MP's website. I went to it yesterday to write an email to her about Boris's Rasputin, and found it quite fascinating - the latest item on her news page (on May 7th) is about changes to the council's refuse collections, because of course you go to an MP's website rather than to the council's if you want to find out when your bins are going to be emptied. Anyway, I came to write an email, so I press the Contact W at the side of the screen and find the link isn't working. Out of interest I try the Book an Appointment with W button - and the link isn't working. A little further down the page is a small photo which appears to show W bending towards someone doing something with the caption "Need any help? Contact W", but...
But then I see that there's another contact button at the top of the screen, and I try it, and it works! It gives her email address and the address and phone number of the constituency office and a cheery message - "I'd love to hear from you, so please do get in touch!" So I sent off my email. Perhaps I should have added to it "I'd love to hear from you too" as she's only ever answered one of the three emails I've sent her in the five years she's been our MP, and that was with a standard letter that didn't actually reply to what I'd said...
TICTH God. Over and over again the poor are sent away empty and the rich filled with good things. What happened to the Magnificat vision? I feel like it has been torn down and sold for scrap.
Hermes. supposed the deity of communication, as well as merchants, thieves and other things the rest of the Olympians couldn't be bothered with.
We are going to deliver between 1500 and 1900 hours. You can ask us to put the delivery in a safe place.
No, I can't.
I have a very safe place. It is my bin cupboard by the front door. It has a Yale lock, so when a delivery is put in it, the courier can engage the lock. It has a notice on it, with this instruction. There is another notice by the front door with the same information.
Last time, this was ignored and the delivery left on the doorstep. When I was in. I have three doorbell buttons. None was used.
The original courier used to use the cupboard anyway. Well done her.
I went on the website. You can only enter a prelisted safe place, porch, shed, greenhouse, letterbox, outbuilding, garage.
I tried every contact option. Holly, a supposed AI chat bot. The writers of Red Dwarf should get them. She is not intelligent. Repeats delivery times and shuts me out.
There is no phone number on the website or their email. I research this and find the customer "service" number. Another computer generated female bot which I will not describe as AI. Same rubbish, no options.
I will just have to trust the courier will have enough non-artificial intelligence to follow instructions on the notices.
And stick up a large paper notice as well.
I am going to happily CTH whatever nonsense makes Hermes mess their couriers about as well.
In our last home we had a Great courier. They knew all their customers. But no. They were Never allowed to have their own patch for longer than a month or so
I don't know if Colis Privé (a French company of the same type) is related, but they can join them in the hot place anyway.
It was a small packet - some photos that I was printing to free up some space on my phone memory. They allegedly tried to deliver once and we were out - surprising given this was during lockdown and we were leaving the house rather infrequently. I went on their website and chose a new date and then waited at home all day from 8 am to 7 pm. They never turned up. They then tried to deliver the following day and claimed we were out again - see previous comment about lockdown.
I complained to the vendor and they reprinted the photos and sent them a second time. This time the courrier delivers them in the mailbox. Can anyone explain to me why the **** they didn't do that the first time?
A very apposite one for the Ship. The Church Times for having a cover I want to deface with marker pen two weeks running. Last week it was Cummings, this week they've got Trump's Bible stunt on the front.
I saw the photo shot on James Corden’s show on Facebook. The Donald looked almost as if he had dementia, he stood in front of the church with a Bible and didn’t know what he was doing.
A very apposite one for the Ship. The Church Times for having a cover I want to deface with marker pen two weeks running. Last week it was Cummings, this week they've got Trump's Bible stunt on the front.
To be fair to the Church Times, the cover is a split picture. The top half is the Trump photo-shoot picture. The bottom half shows the tear-gassing if peaceful protestors that preceded it. As I read it the intention is to show up the photo-shoot picture for the deceit that it was.
Not afflicted at the moment TBTG, but I have been in the past...
...so, yes.
Me (in a pharmacy in Wales, sotto voce) 'Er...have you got an ointment for treating haemorrhoids, please?'
Pharmacist (to assistant): 'HAVE WE GOT ANYTHING FOR AN ENGLISHMAN WITH PILES??'
Not afflicted at the moment TBTG, but I have been in the past...
...so, yes.
Me (in a pharmacy in Wales, sotto voce) 'Er...have you got an ointment for treating haemorrhoids, please?'
Pharmacist (to assistant): 'HAVE WE GOT ANYTHING FOR AN ENGLISHMAN WITH PILES??'
Perhaps everyone else within hearing distance was a monolingual Welsh speaker?
Not afflicted at the moment TBTG, but I have been in the past...
...so, yes.
Me (in a pharmacy in Wales, sotto voce) 'Er...have you got an ointment for treating haemorrhoids, please?'
Pharmacist (to assistant): 'HAVE WE GOT ANYTHING FOR AN ENGLISHMAN WITH PILES??'
Perhaps everyone else within hearing distance was a monolingual Welsh speaker?
Under five or elderly with dementia? Unlikely I fear.
If haemorrhoids were an Olympic event I'd have won the gold medal while I was doing the chemo thing a few years ago. It was so bad that the pain affected my eyesight - I couldn't focus. When I told one of the home care nurses this, she laughed. I was furious, which didn't help at all. Apparently a euphemism for the affliction is 'the grapes of wrath', which I had never understood until then.
Just so. By all means, let them be sent (en masse) to Mr Trump.
Fortunately, at the time of the Incident to which I referred, I was doing a standing-up job (as fireman on a certain Great Little Train of Wales), so there was some relief - until I tried perching (in traditionally nonchalant engine crew fashion) on the edge of the cab side-sheet.
I'm surprised the driver didn't have to stop the train, and pick up my AGONISED body from the trackside...
The pub in the village served some good real ALE, which helped alleviate the pain.
The young man who spat in the street earlier today while I was out walking. And even worse, the cyclist who emptied the contents of his nose onto the road the other day. Utterly disgusting and unforgivable at any time, incomprehensible at the moment.
Aren’t people taught to use handkerchiefs any more?
I trust other afflicted Shippies will join me in consigning haemorrhoids...
Absolutely!! And their near relation, the anal fissure. I developed a bad one of those a few weeks after heart surgery, and it was much worse than the surgery had been. The pain could be excruciating, and of course it’s not the kind of thing you share with people that much. Unfortunately, at first I thought it was hemorrhoids—my grandmother was convinced they were the thorn in St. Paul’s flesh—and used hemorrhoid cream, which makes a fissure worse.
3+ months later (with thrice-daily applications of nitro-glycerin cream), and it’s still not fully healed, though it is much better.
Sorry for over-sharing, but this particular consignment to Hell struck a nerve, so to speak.
I trust other afflicted Shippies will join me in consigning haemorrhoids...
Absolutely!! And their near relation, the anal fissure. I developed a bad one of those a few weeks after heart surgery, and it was much worse than the surgery had been. The pain could be excruciating, and of course it’s not the kind of thing you share with people that much. Unfortunately, at first I thought it was hemorrhoids—my grandmother was convinced they were the thorn in St. Paul’s flesh—and used hemorrhoid cream, which makes a fissure worse.
3+ months later (with thrice-daily applications of nitro-glycerin cream), and it’s still not fully healed, though it is much better.
Sorry for over-sharing, but this particular consignment to Hell struck a nerve, so to speak.
I was similarly afflicted following my hospital stay in January and concur wholeheartedly on the pain, especially when the progenitor of the condition was the strong pain medication for other symptoms. The effects of the cure lasted for weeks after the original problem.
There was a Mrs. St. Paul??? I always imagined he was basically a misogynistic old git ...
Surely there was a point at which he was still a misogynistic young git?
Mind you, things weren't exactly joyous in John Wesley's household, were they? Why on earth did he get married? After all, he stayed single till he was nearly 50.
There was a Mrs. St. Paul??? I always imagined he was basically a misogynistic old git ...
Surely there was a point at which he was still a misogynistic young git?
Mind you, things weren't exactly joyous in John Wesley's household, were they? Why on earth did he get married? After all, he stayed single till he was nearly 50.
There's good evidence that Paul didn't write the misogynistic crap in the epistles attributed to him. He clearly didn't write the Pastorals, and the nasty bit in Corinthians - the "Women should sit down and shut up" section - apparently wasn't in the oldest copy, but started life as marginalia; in any case, it comes in the middle of a chapter in which he is praising uppity women.
As for John Wesley, I am rather proud of the fact that my mother's family in Savannah were among those who sent him packing from Christ Church. He had it coming.
Wikipedia is a bit coy about Father Wesley's time in Savannah, but mentions his difficulties evangelising the native North Americans, and also friction with local residents...
Whatever did he do to make people want to send him packing so quickly?
While obviously very biased, his own journal is quite illuminating on this front. He put a lot of people's backs up, notably by refusing to baptise one family's child "otherwise than by dipping".
This was before his conversion experience, which began on the boat on the way back when they hit a terrible storm. The Germans sang hymns; Wesley realised he was afraid to die and that he who went to convert the heathen [native American] was never truly converted himself.
I love Wesley's journal. I can't remember where my copy went.
While obviously very biased, his own journal is quite illuminating on this front. He put a lot of people's backs up, notably by refusing to baptise one family's child "otherwise than by dipping".
This was before his conversion experience, which began on the boat on the way back when they hit a terrible storm. The Germans sang hymns; Wesley realised he was afraid to die and that he who went to convert the heathen [native American] was never truly converted himself. ...
No, the conversion experience took place on the voyage to Savannah. The Moravians calmly prayed and sang hymns, even after the mainmast broke, and Wesley was mightily impressed.
Savannah and the Wesleys were not a good fit; the colony was set up to accept those of any denomination, except Roman Catholics (because of not-unreasonable fears that they might help the Spanish enemy in Florida), and Jews were welcome. Only a minority of the colonists were Anglican, and John Wesley, being a stiff-necked, uncompromising man, quickly became unpopular with them. He also had political troubles. Nobody was sorry when he sailed back to England.
Comments
(I am given to this sort of reaction to the bite of flying things and it's less hot than yesterday when it happened, but it aches and I'm fed up).
But then I see that there's another contact button at the top of the screen, and I try it, and it works! It gives her email address and the address and phone number of the constituency office and a cheery message - "I'd love to hear from you, so please do get in touch!" So I sent off my email. Perhaps I should have added to it "I'd love to hear from you too" as she's only ever answered one of the three emails I've sent her in the five years she's been our MP, and that was with a standard letter that didn't actually reply to what I'd said...
It's in the past tense, he hath not he shall.
We are going to deliver between 1500 and 1900 hours. You can ask us to put the delivery in a safe place.
No, I can't.
I have a very safe place. It is my bin cupboard by the front door. It has a Yale lock, so when a delivery is put in it, the courier can engage the lock. It has a notice on it, with this instruction. There is another notice by the front door with the same information.
Last time, this was ignored and the delivery left on the doorstep. When I was in. I have three doorbell buttons. None was used.
The original courier used to use the cupboard anyway. Well done her.
I went on the website. You can only enter a prelisted safe place, porch, shed, greenhouse, letterbox, outbuilding, garage.
I tried every contact option. Holly, a supposed AI chat bot. The writers of Red Dwarf should get them. She is not intelligent. Repeats delivery times and shuts me out.
There is no phone number on the website or their email. I research this and find the customer "service" number. Another computer generated female bot which I will not describe as AI. Same rubbish, no options.
I will just have to trust the courier will have enough non-artificial intelligence to follow instructions on the notices.
And stick up a large paper notice as well.
In our last home we had a Great courier. They knew all their customers. But no. They were Never allowed to have their own patch for longer than a month or so
Numpties
We also had a delivery from Hermes, no problem.
It was a small packet - some photos that I was printing to free up some space on my phone memory. They allegedly tried to deliver once and we were out - surprising given this was during lockdown and we were leaving the house rather infrequently. I went on their website and chose a new date and then waited at home all day from 8 am to 7 pm. They never turned up. They then tried to deliver the following day and claimed we were out again - see previous comment about lockdown.
I complained to the vendor and they reprinted the photos and sent them a second time. This time the courrier delivers them in the mailbox. Can anyone explain to me why the **** they didn't do that the first time?
To be fair to the Church Times, the cover is a split picture. The top half is the Trump photo-shoot picture. The bottom half shows the tear-gassing if peaceful protestors that preceded it. As I read it the intention is to show up the photo-shoot picture for the deceit that it was.
...so, yes.
Me (in a pharmacy in Wales, sotto voce) 'Er...have you got an ointment for treating haemorrhoids, please?'
Pharmacist (to assistant): 'HAVE WE GOT ANYTHING FOR AN ENGLISHMAN WITH PILES??'
eta: cross-post with BF, whose post (sorry!) made me laugh out loud.
Perhaps everyone else within hearing distance was a monolingual Welsh speaker?
No, I suspect not...
Under five or elderly with dementia? Unlikely I fear.
Fortunately, at the time of the Incident to which I referred, I was doing a standing-up job (as fireman on a certain Great Little Train of Wales), so there was some relief - until I tried perching (in traditionally nonchalant engine crew fashion) on the edge of the cab side-sheet.
I'm surprised the driver didn't have to stop the train, and pick up my AGONISED body from the trackside...
The pub in the village served some good real ALE, which helped alleviate the pain.
Aren’t people taught to use handkerchiefs any more?
MMM
3+ months later (with thrice-daily applications of nitro-glycerin cream), and it’s still not fully healed, though it is much better.
Sorry for over-sharing, but this particular consignment to Hell struck a nerve, so to speak.
You'll probably find that nobody in this discussion ever uses the shorthand 'LMAO'.
I was similarly afflicted following my hospital stay in January and concur wholeheartedly on the pain, especially when the progenitor of the condition was the strong pain medication for other symptoms. The effects of the cure lasted for weeks after the original problem.
Re the thorn in St Paul's flesh, I've been told that it was Mrs Paul...
I'll get me ointment, and me air-cushion.
(And ow to all the comments about fissures and treating to pile cream. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt, didn't want reminding.)
Mind you, things weren't exactly joyous in John Wesley's household, were they? Why on earth did he get married? After all, he stayed single till he was nearly 50.
It seems that the marriage only lasted a few years...
As for John Wesley, I am rather proud of the fact that my mother's family in Savannah were among those who sent him packing from Christ Church. He had it coming.
Wikipedia is a bit coy about Father Wesley's time in Savannah, but mentions his difficulties evangelising the native North Americans, and also friction with local residents...
Whatever did he do to make people want to send him packing so quickly?
This was before his conversion experience, which began on the boat on the way back when they hit a terrible storm. The Germans sang hymns; Wesley realised he was afraid to die and that he who went to convert the heathen [native American] was never truly converted himself.
I love Wesley's journal. I can't remember where my copy went.
I didn't realise that Savannah happened before he spilled his tea down his shirt felt his heart strangely warmed.
His was indeed a long, and interesting, life...one of THE great Christian teachers and leaders!
Savannah and the Wesleys were not a good fit; the colony was set up to accept those of any denomination, except Roman Catholics (because of not-unreasonable fears that they might help the Spanish enemy in Florida), and Jews were welcome. Only a minority of the colonists were Anglican, and John Wesley, being a stiff-necked, uncompromising man, quickly became unpopular with them. He also had political troubles. Nobody was sorry when he sailed back to England.