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Baby I’ve got your money….

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On Friday, the savings plan I’ve been paying into for the last 15 years, finally matured.  When I took the plan out, way back in the unmarried,  Manchester years, I had visions of spending my eventual savings on a fabulous holiday, or a car.  Or maybe rolling around in it all in my dungarees like Demi Moore in that movie, Indecent Proposal.

I realize she's not actually in dungarees here - I must have mis-remembered that bit.

I realize she’s not actually in dungarees here – I must have mis-remembered that bit.

        15 years on and most of it has been earmarked for dull things like new windows; a vacuum cleaner (that isn’t lop-sided) a fridge; a new bed etc etc.  B O R I N G!

I did spend 2 hours last night looking at dresses on ebay though and have ‘treated’ myself to a dress I don’t need, for the princely sum of 28 quid.  Hardly, the last of the big spenders.

I hadn’t anticipated having to use a lump of it to pay off an outstanding credit card debt either, but hey ho!  Who am I to be denied the joy of spending 45 minutes of my life on Friday evening trying to sort that out?  My initial elation at finally being able to pay off the card, soon turned to apoplectic rage and frustration with my bank, who refused to relinquish the money I’d been waiting for since the year 2000.  Instead they stopped my account due to ‘erroneous and suspicious activity’  i.e. there was actually money in the account for a change! I wouldn’t have minded if they had just called me to question it.  Instead though I had to deal with vague text messages referring to fraud, unhelpful robotic voice recordings and warning emails before eventually being pacified, FINALLY, by a softly spoken Scottish lady – of the type they keep in storage with calming voices, in order to soothe you once they have spent half an hour driving you to utter madness and on the brink of a random shooting frenzy.  I am still not convince the transaction has gone through.  I dearly hope it has, or all the softly spoken Scottish people in the world will not be able to calm me down.

Next stop, one of those savings plans to cover the cost of your funeral…




post mostly comprising initials

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If there wasn’t enough reasons to avoid this series of books like the plague and avoid hurling oneself on the S&M, 3 for £10 at Morrison’s pseudoporn bandwagon.  I just read that JB may be getting involved in the film franchise.

Foxtrot Foxtrot Sierra!  Noooooooooooooooo!   He’s only about 17 years old!

In other news.  Last night I dreamt that I was back at work at The Farm* (that one is for my readers who have been there from Day 1) and that a massive apocalyptic thunder and lightning storm was raging around Leeds and blowing all through the office.  Bman says I was curled up in a ball under the covers – that may explain why.  Unless I was channelling one of the beetles I also dreamt about later on that I’d found in my pyabs!  (Just for the record, I only dreamt that – I don’t really have any wee beasties in my bush).

Analyse THAT futhermucker!


Got paid yesterday and most of it has been eaten by overdraft already.  Summer holidays are a killer for spending cash you don’t actually have! 

I have now given up hope of ever seeing any of the PPI  I have been promised since fecking February when I applied for a refund from RBS.  At this rate I’ll be RIP well before I even hear whether or not I am to expect any.  Meanwhile, the World and his dog keep telling me stories of retail therapeutic joy, spending their PPI refunds on domestic appliances, pampering days and must-have gadgets.

I shall take to my bed with my dressing gown over my clothes now and wallow in my own self-pity until it’s time for Strictly and Doctor Who. 😦

I shall leave you with this picture which amused me on FB and I stole because I’m all out of my own ideas this weekend.

aint that the truth

* AKA.   B.N.I Insurance Brokers