While I was on the blog-hiatus, I changed my car (though the 306 still lives with me!). I went from the RX8 to a nice, sensible, economical diesel Audi A3. Co-incidentally, the car change happened at the same time as my car insurance was due to renew, so I took it as an opportunity to shop around for a better deal.
Using the myriad comparison websites, I eventually did find a good deal, with Privilege. So good a deal, I opted to pay up-front, instead of by instalments. After a week or two, Privilege wrote to me to ask for me to send them some ‘proof’ of my No Claims Bonus. After enquiring with them, what this boils down to is a piece of paper from your previous insurer which says “Yes, this person has X years no claims bonus”.
So, I ring up my previous insurer, Esure and ask for this piece of paper. They’re very nice and efficient on the phone, and tell me that they’ll send it out and I’ll have it within a few days. Great stuff.
A couple of weeks pass and there’s no paperwork from Esure. There is, however, a stern letter from Privilege saying that if they didn’t get the ‘proof’ soon, they may have to charge me extra. So, I ring up Esure again and ask, again, for my proof of no-claims bonus. They, again, say they will send it, and that it’ll take 3-5 days.
I find myself with flights booked to New York, next month. For a variety of reasons, these flights were going to be useless, and I’d be chalked up on the airline’s ‘No show’ list, but this week I’ve decided to go anyway, despite it cutting into precious work time, and upsetting some other applecarts which I have to tend.
I’ve never been to New York, though I’ve always wanted to go, and – truth be told – I’m more excited about this trip than pretty much any other holiday I’ve been on. I can’t recall being more excited about going away since my honeymoon. I think mainly, it’s because I’ll be travelling alone, and I’ve never been on holiday on my own before.
I’m staying for four nights, between the 9th and 13th of October. Though my return flight on the 13th departs at 8:50am, so I guess there won’t be any late night boozing on the 12th!
So, for a million and one reasons, the blog’s fell by the wayside again. Some reasons are more valid than others, some were downright more important, but, that’s not important now. What is important is that I’m back on the hoss, and am going to try and talk up some crap on the blog again.
There are those out there that believe in karma, or in fate and the pre-ordained nature of things in general. I’m not a subscriber to any of this. You make your own bed, and you sleep in it. Your choices, your actions, your decisions, that’s all it is, in life the onus is on you.
As Forrest Gump once said, “That’s all I have to say about that”, and, yeah, I concur. Those of you who really know me, will know what I’m referring to, the rest of you, well, everything will come out in the wash, as they say.
Anyhoo.
I put the John Cooper Clark poem up the other day, well, just because I like it, and it’s suitably shouty and I wanted to see if anyone was still reading. Turns out people are, and it also turns out that my mam doesn’t like all the swearing, either. So, heartily reprimanded, here we go again.
the fucking cops are fucking keen
to fucking keep it fucking clean
the fucking chief’s a fucking swine
who fucking draws a fucking line
at fucking fun and fucking games
the fucking kids he fucking blames
are nowehere to be fucking found
anywhere in chicken town
the fucking scene is fucking sad
the fucking news is fucking bad
the fucking weed is fucking turf
the fucking speed is fucking surf
the fucking folks are fucking daft
don’t make me fucking laugh
it fucking hurts to look around
everywhere in chicken town
the fucking train is fucking late
you fucking wait you fucking wait
you’re fucking lost and fucking found
stuck in fucking chicken town
the fucking view is fucking vile
for fucking miles and fucking miles
the fucking babies fucking cry
the fucking flowers fucking die
the fucking food is fucking muck
the fucking drains are fucking fucked
the colour scheme is fucking brown
everywhere in chicken town
the fucking pubs are fucking dull
the fucking clubs are fucking full
of fucking girls and fucking guys
with fucking murder in their eyes
a fucking bloke is fucking stabbed
waiting for a fucking cab
you fucking stay at fucking home
the fucking neighbors fucking moan
keep the fucking racket down
this is fucking chicken town
the fucking train is fucking late
you fucking wait you fucking wait
you’re fucking lost and fucking found