Thursday, October 06, 2005
Lurgied and Narked
When we first moved many years ago to the Cullybackey house we were all sick. I remember being glad that we hadn't laid carpets as everyone was throwing up all over the place.Now I'm sick. Not stomach sick, as I can still eat, but flu-ish, lurgie-ish sick. My throat itches and my kidneys hurt. I think I must be allergic to new houses. Hannah and I went out for a walk and I was exhausted before I'd gone two miles. Then we went to Cullybackey Spar, which used to be the Best Spar In The World but has recently changed hands and has already gone downhill. There were not enough experienced people on the tills, which was irritating. On a scale of 0-10 my patience levels were at 1.5 while my narkedness levels were 8.5 and rising.Then on the Dreen Road two bastard lorries were blocking the road while one loaded crap on to another one. At 6:05pm! Cullybackey rush hour for fecks sake you morons. They both had banks of hazard lights going. I don't know why. Maybe it makes them feel important. Maybe it's to discourage enraged menopausal women from trying to lep over them Evel Knievel style. Actually I don't think the Fiesta would be up to that. But three cheers for me I managed not to be horrible to my darling Hannah and sweet Saint Bertram. Because they are stars. Hannah is being extremely helpful with all the work the move involves and Bert is doing all the things I ask him to. Today he sorted the cistern on the downstairs toilet and cut back the hedge at the bottom of the lane. It was OK for him sailing out on to the road in his new (to him) Mercedes Sprinter but I was taking my life in my hands every time I ventured out in my wee low Fiesta. The speed that country boys drive at is beyond scary. Good news is that I'm on holiday next week. Lots to do. By the way did youse know that the bastard Rates Agency continues to charge rates on an uninhabited house if it has even one stick of furniture in it? So the pressure is on to empty this gaff as quickly as possible. I wonder if the Queen pays rates? Bet she doesn't and bet His Toniness doesn't either. I'm too sick to research it myself. It's the sort of crazy thing His Edness might know.
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I don't actually know. I think that Blair would pay his council tax, but considering his basic salary is over £150k, I can't see him feeling the pinch too much.
I think that the Queen is exempt from most forms of tax, so I'd be surprised if she had to pay. It would be a fairly hefty bill, if you're going by rateable value...
(And yes, I know I said that I didn't know and then went on to waffle. What's your point? What's mine? And why am I suddenly talking in a Toasterish fashion?)
She does pay tax, but not in the way you and I do. (Presuming neither you nor I are soap-dodging dole-scrounging types.)
And am I now a by-word for rambling, am I? I suppose I should be flattered. I think. Hey, stop laughing over there, I know it isn't _with_ me...
I think Liz volunteers to pay income tax, but I don't what other taxes she pays. There's probably some interesting legal trickery going on, because if HM is paying money into HMTreasury, surely it's the left hand giving to the right hand. Or something like that. Since everything government do is (officially, anyway) in her name, for the purposes of her spending it, how does she pay into it.
(I mentioned the toasterish because the bracketed bit read like something you'd write. Which surprised me somewhat. Although I may now use the verb "To StrayToaster" as a replacement for "To roam around the point, while hinting at interesting stories such as hawt chicks". At your suggestion, of course.)
y'all get well soon, good news on the patience (i'm a miserable b**tard when ill). Ah, so bert did get the new van then-a rare treat no doubt.
Yay! I love it when men debate/bicker (debicker?)in Nelly's Garden. I'd say 10 Downing St and Buck House are probably exempt due to them being public buildings as well as private residences.
My place of work is rates exempt despite people living there.
I am still feeling poorly but despite that have heroically come to work.
The idea of being a verb appeals to me. Whimsical, nasty, and rambling. That is what it would mean. And plenty of parenthesised statements (to aid with the ramblingness, of course.)
I blame HR and Legal for the preponderence of hawt chick-ery around here. That and my inability not to talk to anyone, which they seem to have misinterpretted as flirting. Here, off-point is also part of the verb now, isn't it? And long stanzas to say absolutely bugger all. And as Valerie pointed out on her blog, zero meaning (or understanding) to anything I write.
I go back to work now.
Sometimes reading Marc's blog can lead to a pain between the eyes, this pain caused by hard furrowing of the brow whilst trying to winnow the meaning from waffle.
v. winfle - to try to make sense of a Stray Toaster post
adj. Stray Toast - the triumph of meandering over meaning.
PS Only slagging you Marc because we know you miss it over there in Ingleland.
Slagging? My dear Ms. Moser, I take that as a compliment!
Better to be talked about and all that. Dear old Monsieur Melmoth.
You're an education you are.
We mon gie ye that.
Dame Nelly now knows a little bit more about Oscar Wilde than she did yesterday.
Is that a good thing then?
We are preparing for a big celebration this week. Our relatives are coming to celebrate Thanksgiving. I have already reserved a turkey and i am excited to roast it all by myself. I am glad that my relatives are coming because I missed them a lot.
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