Saturday, 20 June 2015

Waste Not Want Not

Waste Not Want Not
Her Indoors is off to Benidorm in a coupla weeks. Hen party. The poor buggers in Benidorm won’t know what’s hit ’em.
Be that as it may, she’s travelling with cabin baggage only. Yes, the ironing board, small wardrobe and tumble dryer will have to stay at home with me.
However, she still needs to carry several hundredweight of toiletries with her, so we’ve been busy buying the 100ml bottles she needs to decant sun lotion, face cream and the like, to get through security at the airport.
Then I realised she needed a re-sealable plastic bag to put it all in, and the size is now restricted to 200mm x 200mm or thereabouts. Not to worry. She would buy one at the airport.
Have you seen how much they charge for them? Not bloody likely. So I bought a box of 200 re-sealable snack bags this morning, 200 x 185 mm. We travel quite a lot, so they would come in handy every time we go away.
When I got them home, however, I learned they’re not 200 x 185. They’re 200 x 85. Oops.


As you can see from the photograph they’re just about the right size to fit a Mars Bar. When it comes to getting through airport security with bottles, makeup, toothpaste and so on, they’re bloody useless.
“That was a waste of two pounds,” Her Indoors screamed, “and you’re always onto me about throwing money away on inessentials.”
I gave the matter some thought and then realised they were not entirely a waste. I have to go for a diabetic check (again) in two weeks, and nursie will require the usual sample. I can fit the bottle into one of these bags, seal it up and prevent any nasty spillage into my pocket.
Her Indoors was not convinced.
“All you have to do is piss in another 199 bottles and we’ve had a result.”
There’s no pleasing some people.

Tuesday, 9 June 2015

The Adventure of the New Boiler



It’s common knowledge that we’ve been having problems with our heating boiler. If you didn’t know, it’s because you haven’t been paying attention.
The boiler began rumbling back in April. At the last count, a dozen engineers had been to it and each had a different solution. It’s the burner, it’s flue, it’s the condensation pipe. One even suggested it wasn’t the boiler, but the wall on which it was hung, and he sent a builder along to shore up the wall. It didn’t make a ha’porth of difference. The boiler carried on rumbling and grumbling. Her Indoors said it reminded her of me.
Then last week it kept knocking itself off. It wouldn’t work for longer than fifteen minutes without packing in. Her Indoors said it still reminded her of me.
So the local authority, who own both the house and the boiler, sent their chief bod out, and he declared it an official no-go area. “We’ll put a new boiler in,” he told me.
“Suit yourself,” I replied. “It’s your boiler, and I’ll just keep moaning at you.”
“Yes,” he said, “We’ve noticed you’re quite skilled at moaning.”
“You try waking up to no heating and no hot water,” I suggested. “I meanersay, its only June. You can’t expect hot weather, can you?”
Anyway, the engineer arrived yesterday complete with boiler and bits, most of which he left cluttering up the front yard while he proceeded to install it.

The poor sod was working on his own, too. I watched him struggle down the stairs with the old boiler and Her Indoors said, “Why don’t you help him?”
So I did. I held the door open while he carried it out to his van. I also made him endless cups of tea during the day.
Scaffolders arrived at lunchtime so he could get on the roof for the new flue, and I made them cups of tea, too. An electrician turned up about two o’clock, but he didn’t want a cup of tea. He just wanted to install the new thermostat and timer controls, and be on his way.
One of the major problems with the job was the lavatory. Not that he was working there, but it was right next to where he was working on the landing, and there was no running water. Hence, when Her Indoors needed to go to the smallest room, life got a bit awkward. He turned the water back on shortly after that. He also turned on the bathroom extractor fan. It’s something I do regularly when I have to follow her into the bathroom. I’m surprised the poor bugger didn’t walk out on strike.
Sat at the rear of the room about three o’clock in the afternoon, wrapped up in a cardigan and coat, I noticed something odd. Heat coming from the radiators. Yes. We had central heating. It didn’t last long. He was only testing it.
Twenty minutes later, however, we were up and running, and after showing me how to use the boiler, he left. Sadly, I didn’t have my hearing aids in, and I only caught one word in fifty. I did, however, hear him say, “Whatever you do, don’t…” but I didn’t learn what it was I’m not supposed to do.
Luckily he left us a full instruction manual. I say manual, it reminds me more of Encyclopaedia Britannica.
But at least I have some reading matter which I can enjoy in the comfort and warmth of active central heating.


Wednesday, 3 June 2015

More Spam Fritters


Apparently I need more authoritative backlinks to rank. At least that’s what this idiot said in the following spam comment.
Hi, I really like your website and I have just analysed your backlinks. You need more authority links in order to rank.
Best backlinking strategies in 2015 are backlinks pyramids and private blog networks. You can hit Google’s top 10 easily. If you are not SEO pro you can outsource this task, just search in Google.
This was attached to a post on how to write humour, on which grounds you may think it’s irrelevant. But you’d be wrong…. Just like the dildo who posted it.
In truth, there is nothing wrong with my backlinking strategy. According to Her Indoors, my back is linked too strongly to the bed and the armchair, especially when she needs me to whip round to the shop for half a dozen eggs and can of hairspray. The urgent need for half a dozen eggs and a can of hairspray may go some way to explaining why I have so many stomach problems, but it doesn’t detract from my backlinking strategy.
In fact, as the following image will demonstrate, there’s nothing wrong with Her Indoors’ backlinking, or Joe’s. Both are capable of gluing their backs to the settee when there’s nowt on telly.

As for hitting Google’s top 10, well, I didn’t know they even had a chart. Who’s on it? Billy Fury? Connie Francis?
Another dipstick suggested that “only a few can carry out the strongest and most reliable aluminium welding”. Welding aluminium is fairly skilled work, but since this comment was passed on a post concerning an accidental meeting with my ex-wife and her husband, I wonder what this moron is trying to say. I should get her husband to sort out the car?

But he’s a painter and decorator.