Rat Tours and Treasure Hunts

For some reason blogger is not letting me use apostophes. So I will try to write this post without using any. It will be hard as everything has to be written properly. I can not be lazy and shorten words. I think it also makes me sound rather pompous.

Last week we had a treasure hunt for Bert. He was really clever and did not need much help with it. Mel and Mikey made excellent treasure and came bearing gifts of scotch and haggis and honey fudge. Pearlie was treated so some of the haggis and claimed it to be the best thing she had ate in years.

I went in to give Pearlie a cup of tea the other day and she was sitting down to a plate of chips and chicken from the chipper. I asked her if her chicken was good and she tells me that nothing tastes good to her anymore. Everything tastes like cardboard. I says to Bert we may get her a crate of haggis. Or we may boil up a few rabbits in a stew. Or we could fry up the dead rats that Mikey unearthed, she would think that was a quare treat.

Unfortunately I missed out on the dead rats tour conducted by Ben although I heard it was very good. But one of the highlights of the party for me was sneaking out with Mel to eat Zoes delicious coconut icing buns. They tasted like heaven. We also let dirt bird Megham (she is one of the many dirt birds but Dirt Bird is the queen of dirt birds) and lovely Magda in on the secret. I knew they would appreciate Zoes domestic goddessness.

My Ongoing Feud With NatWest Part 2

It's now boring me. I could go into the details but it really is boring. What it boils down to is that Natwest can't train their staff properly. If the staff don't know by what means a bill can be paid off then how can the customer? The customer can only act on the advice they are given from the company's employees. If the employees don't give correct, accurate, helpful advice then Natwest have to expect that customers will be irate and send letters like this one:

To Whom It May Concern,

I am enclosing a cheque for 17.50. This will cover the paltry amount I owe you plus the extortionate (and most likely, illegal late payment charge) plus interest accrued. I trust this will satisfy you.

May I add the sight or the sound of the word 'NatWest' makes me feel physically ill and that never in my experience have i encountered such an unhelpful, shambolic organisation. b assured that I do not keep these opinions to myself.

Other than receiving an aknowledgement of this letter I hope never to hear from NatWest again,

Yours Sincerely

Me

New Job

On Sunday I handed in my 4 weeks notice. This was the moment I had been dreaming about, fantasising about and drooling over. I had various different speches about what I would say but when it came down to it all I said was that I am leaving because I have another job...in Thailand. One of my bestest friends in the world, Miss R. V. The Human (I have never spoke of her on my blog, not because I don't love her but because she's not a big internet fan and the idea of her being on it would surely bring her out in some kind of nasty rash) is going over this weekend. She got herself a job teaching English in Lopburi (about 3 1/2 hours North of Bangkok). She put in a good word for me and before I could say I'm off to Thailand, she'd sorted me out with a job at the same school.

So I now have 4 weeks to sort out flights, injections, visas, insurance, getting another copy of my degree certificate as I lost the original (hey, until now it was not worth the paper it was written on), visiting Dad and Katkins in Norfolk and meeting endless people for goodbye drinks.
Lopburi is famous for it's monkeys. So much so that every year a local hotelier holds a banquet for them complete with menus and waiters as a way of thanking them for bringing the tourist trade. I'm getting my rabies shot tomorrow because I am the kind of fool who thinks monkey's are cute and would be climbing the trees with them. It has also been advised that we stay away from dogs as they could be rabid too. I don't want to end up foaming at the mouth cujo style so I guess I'll have to take heed.

It Happens

It happens. Occasionally you expect it. But 9 times out of 10 you don't. So there I was unfolding the towel to dry myself after I'd had my shower. And there it was, all big and brown and hairy. When Spiders Attack. I squealed and flung the towel down onto the wet floor. No sooner had I done this than I felt a pang of guilt, what if I'd crushed the spider? What if it had drowned on the wet floor? Poor little, ugly, hairy, eight-legged freaky thing. I don't like them but it's not there fault they repulse me. I am too scared to investigate so I sit here wondering about it's well being. But I am also sitting here smiling. For reasons I can not disclose yet, for fear of jinxing myself and having everything blow up in my face.