DOWN, DEEPER AND DOWN

Bertie is objecting to my use of the word ‘tabby’ to describe doddery old dears – says its ‘Catist.’ God, even the mog’s gone woke. What is this world coming to? Yes, I realise that cats can’t talk in real life but if they could, I’m sure that’s what they’d be saying and more.

These humans have no respect

Now that the Budget's been delivered and I'm supercharged from eating garlic flavoured gherkins plus I have the perfect frame to contain my pond, there’s the small matter of digging out a great big pond-shaped hole. Really not looking forward to this part of the project but it’s gotta be done.

Position pond within the frame then mark out its perimeter.

Mark out the shape of your pond

This is not as easy as it first sounds. I tried to do this with a weedy bamboo cane which barely scratched the surface of the rock-hard dirt then I used some stinky yellow line marking spray that dissolved my nasal lining. Not recommended especially without some kind of respiratory face protection. No doubt I’ll develop lung cancer or another equally hideous condition in the future for being so cavalier.

Eventually an outline is formed using a combination of hand trowel, smelly paint and stick which I can use as a guide for the outside edge of the hole.

Looks kinda like this

It’s now just a case of going all out Status Quo - down, down, deeper and down until you hit pay dirt, the height of the pond.

Can you dig it?  Yes you can!

GARLIC, GHERKINS & GAS

Well, well, well… This Halloween budget is turning into a financial spooktacular by all accounts. 

Has anyone else noticed that Horrible Healy bears an uncanny resemblance to another monster – Nosferatu? Dead ringer if you ask me. And whilst Nosferatu feasts on the blood of the innocent so too, the Chancellor.

Which one is a blood-sucking vampire?

Bad news for Nosferatu though – garlic’s getting cheaper. Great news for our household as being of Mediterranean extraction, I stick garlic in everything. And by the looks of things, I’ll be filling my Doomsday cupboard with gherkins, boiled sweets and kerosene ready for that apocalypse. Good move Healy since all these things probably have long sell by dates so should keep well in storage until the unseen foe strikes.

Not so good perhaps is your move to scrap gas standing charges although my cynical self suspects that this was always going to be on the cards somewhere down the line as part of the continued shift to electrification.

It’s the petrol/diesel scenario all over again. Diesel always demonised for its particulate emissions is by far a more economical fuel, giving greater mileage to the gallon than petrol. Having persuaded the nation to drive diesel, the Government then enables prices to go up at the pumps thus securing itself a nice little fuel duty nest egg as I expect most diesel drivers like me are reluctant to exchange their dirty little drives for an expensive, inefficient electric vehicle.

Same with natural gas. Gas boilers/cookers are by far more economical to run than their electric counterparts. Wholesale prices of gas are also cheaper than electricity. The Government knows this all too well but having given carte blanche to renewables, it must now create demand for electricity. After all, gas is a fossil fuel, it will kill the planet, blah, blah, blah. And so over time, gas storage facilities (holders) quietly disappear from our landscapes and hideous plots emerge to ban new domestic gas boilers.

Strangle supply, price it out of the market then punters will have no other choice but to plump for an alternative – in this case electricity. No choice, no contest.

Slight problem though. Gas has always been considerably cheaper for punters to use than electricity so like diesel drivers, most home owners are likely to be reluctant to switch to an expensive, inefficient heat pump.

There is also the issue that most net zero levies and other green energy costs are always lumped onto the electrical side of an energy bill rather than being split equally between gas and electricity.

Enter energy equalisation. Over time, expect the gas side of energy bills to continue to increase as the Government and Ofgem put in measures to re-balance things. I suspect this is what has prompted this gas ‘giveaway.’ Standing charges will disappear but consumption charges will continually increase. They’ve already put a toe in the water by making suppliers introduce no/low standing charge tariffs to see how things might work and also to satisfy complaints from low use energy customers.

Hmmm… I think whilst shovelling yogurt coated bran flakes laced with garlic into my mouth trying to stifle a cough at the same time so I don’t pebble-dash the laptop. As I’ve nothing better to do with my time these days then let’s just rifle through all those old energy bills to see how this proposed change might benefit.

Ooooh - don’t you just love early morning spreadsheets. Better than sex!

Let me start by putting some context around this Excel table that I’ve created to see whether I might be quids in or not.

I’m currently on a one-year fixed energy tariff with Octopus. I fixed my energy costs back in the summer in anticipation of the war in the Middle East dragging on and causing the same kind of disruption in the energy markets as the Ukrainian war. Probably just as well seeing as what might be coming down the price cap pipeline in January.

Looking at all my gas bills over the period October 2025 to October 2026, I paid a total of £104.39 in gas standing charges so if these are to be abolished then yippee! As luck would have it when I came to re-fix my energy back in July, the daily standing charge for gas dropped by 2.44p per day. However, gas consumption costs increased now making it slightly more expensive to shower, cook or heat the house.

Analysing my gas standing charges

When you compare the consumption rates and standing charges for gas to those of my electricity bill then you begin to realise how much more expensive it would be if we went fully electric.

My electricity standing charge is 15p per day more than gas. The difference in consumption charges is 17p. So, if the Government’s ultimate aim is to bring about equalisation in energy costs, then there will need to be a lot more increases on the gas side of the scales before it can balance out against electricity. The January price cap changes will provide the perfect opportunity for a good old gas price hike – blamed on war, of course.

Being on a fixed energy price tariff then I won’t find out until next summer what any new costs are likely to be but I better make sure I’m wearing a bubble-wrap cardi for when I fall off my chair in shock as it's sure to be a bloodsucker!

WAR IN A 1,000 DAYS

War is coming don’t you know? Apparently in a thousand days, according to Wes (you and whose army?) Streeting whose scaremongering message was pepper-sprayed across the weekend tabloids to galvanise the nation into action.

Of course, in 1,000 days there’s likely to be another general election probably making war someone else’s problem, not Wes’s. From bedpans to ballistics, Wes inherited defence from Horrible Healy who is now gearing up to wage war on our wonga on Wednesday.

However, for us over-weight, over-taxed, over-electrified oiks, it’s battle stations. Be ready! Be Prepared! Be anything other than sitting on your arse expecting someone else to be doing something whilst you watch the latest round of Celebrity Traitors in blissful oblivion.

To prepare for this imaginary ‘war’, the Government may have to introduce some policy changes:

Like retirement, the age of conscription will be pushed out to 70. If you can hold a fork, walk 200 yards unaided, dress yourself then you’re in. Britain needs YOU! Finger firmly pointing outwards. Report to your nearest Barmy Recruitment Office as soon as.

Ration Books like everything else will be digital. They’ll be over-complicated to obtain, function temperamentally and only likely to work with a top-of-the-range satellite phone. From China. You’ll need to handover a sackful of personal data to a faceless bot called Twinkle to register for the That’s-Your-Lot APP, precious data that can then be flogged to the enemy after the ‘war’ to re-build the economy.

Whilst details of your identity will be available to every hacker on the planet, in true Orwellian fashion our ‘enemy’ will remain an unknown quantity because the Nanny State knows best. It’s for our own good. We can’t handle the truth. Makes it easier to stoke up a good panic if we don’t know exactly who the bad ‘un is. China? Russia? Hackers? Migrants? That bloke over there with three heads wearing a paisley frock brandishing a ray gun? Not seen, not there. Unless the Government say they are then be ready.

Panic buying will become mandatory. Every household in the land will be sent a random weekly shopping list of over-priced, not needed items to purchase for the greater economic good of the nation. Toilet rolls, paracetamol, eggs or any other sensible items won’t be included on the PB list. Expect to see snail facial cream, air fryers, nose hair trimmers, incontinence pants, plastic pumpkins and Oasis tickets. Anything and everything useless will be on the list whilst the stuff you really need in a crisis will have mysteriously disappeared from supermarket shelves under alleged ‘supply chain issues.’

Richer households will be expected to fund their own defence equipment via a unique ‘Drone Deduction’ tax code that will enable the Revenue to plunder funds directly from your bank account. Anyone with more than fifty quid in coinage stored in either a whiskey bottle, piggy bank, shoebox under the bed or any other receptacle will be deemed a ‘richer’ household under new means-testing criteria to be introduced.

Having frog-marched the public down the electrified brick road by limiting consumer choice thus forcing us all to have smart phones, gadgets with remote access capability, electric cars, DAB radios, internet phone lines, online banking etc, etc, the Government has exposed every single one of us to the risk of cyber warfare. We’d not be in this position if we’d stuck with analogue TVs from Radio Rentals. Yet now with a household full of connectivity, we’ve all got targets on our backs. Is it any wonder some of us want to live ‘off grid?’

Modern warfare won’t require bomb shelters because a clever, unseen foe is just going to give an evil cackle, flick a switch, and bingo, its good-night Vienna. First, they’ll disable the web then they’ll pull the power. Or maybe it’ll be the other way round? Power first, then web. Hang on, let me just ask AI.

Well, whatever the order, we’re all going to be well and truly rogered whichever way you look at it. 

Stockpile or no stockpile, how will you open those tinned goods now your electric can opener is on the fritz? Believe me, cold baked beans are no-one’s idea of a delicious supper on a wet, wintery evening especially with no toaster to warm the bread first or melt the butter.

HIP TO BE SQUARE

Up to this point, my pond project has been a solo venture but now it’s time to press-gang some unwilling volunteers into helping.

Oi! You there. Who me? The other half has that look upon his face, the kind of expression that sits somewhere between chronic constipation and extreme annoyance, the kind he displays when there’s a troublesome fly buzzing around his motorsport magazine. There’s nothing he hates more than blue-bottles on his bugattis.

Yes, you! Get those A-frames ready as it’s time to cut garden sleepers to make a rectangular frame. ‘Oh God, not again…’ I hear him mutter as he skulks off to the garage to rummage amongst his collection of tools.

Working out sleeper sizes to create a frame

Take 4 x 2.4 metre-long sleepers and cut them down to size to create a large frame that will sit inside your brown dirt patch. Use metal brackets to secure each corner and long hex bolts to attach sleepers together.

Finished sleeper frame

As I want the frame to sit below the level of the lawn so that it is not free-floating, then I’ve dug out a wide gulley along the perimeter of the dirt patch in which the frame will sit. Try to keep the bottom level and the same depth all round – a feat which is harder than sourcing a litre of diesel at less than £1.95.

Dig gulley all round your brown dirt patch

Nice and deep for sleeper to sit in

Do not attempt to lift the finished frame by yourself unless your name is Geoff Capes. It’s bloody heavy. Even the pair of us struggled to get the thing airborne by about an inch. Take a deep breath, brace yourself then heave completed frame into your freshly dug gulleys. There. It fits. Well, it does after a few tweaks here and there.

Perfect frame for the pond

Stretcher-bearer!!! Back rub me!

DIG! BABY DIG!

All this talk about idleness and procrastination has finally given me a kick up the jacksie to spur my lazy lump self into some activity.

At last, I’ve decided to get round to digging out part of the garden so I can install a large preformed pond I blagged for free from one of our neighbourhood websites.

It’s a behemoth of a pond. Large enough to do the week’s laundry in if energy costs continue to go up. But it was free and I’m all for re-cycling wherever possible. Besides it’s a large sized Blagdon Damselfly pond and one of these babies will set you back a tidy sum if purchased new.

Free pond anyone?

To prevent us old folks or grandson accidentally falling into the pond, I’ve decided to install it on the lawn in the middle of a raised rectangular bed made of garden sleepers. Being a tidy freak doing this will neaten the edging, contain any border rocks or planting and prevent wet granny ankles or kite surfing tortoises.

Quite how you go about installing a pre-formed pond is one of those exciting, new challenges designed to keep retired brain matter active. Things to learn. Physical jerks (I’m not referring to the other half). Plenty of resistance training (largely from my under-utilised muscles who are resistant to any form of exercise). Fresh air to fill your bonce with positive thoughts and banish mental negativity. A good time filler.

First – decide on location of said pond and mark out a nice rectangle of an appropriate size using whatever implements you can lay your hands on. Aha, there’s a nice patch on the lawn just there opposite the veggie bed that’ll be the perfect spot.

Second – get digging. Delve like your life depends on it. Dead grass, weeds, stones; everything’s got to come up. If you have physical limitations like I have, be prepared to pace yourself as it’s a sweaty, back-breaking job. Chunk up the rectangle so you do a little bit every day. Ensure you have a flask of tea to hand for restorative purposes.

It’s taken me several days just to get rid of the surface turf and get down to bare earth. I now have a brown dirt cowboy patch that will eventually house my new pond. Time to dig, baby dig!

Brown dirt patch - home of new pond

TAX STACKING

Liar, liar – your tax pants are on fire.

The subject of paying tax on state pensions has raised its ugly head again just days before Horrible Healy’s first budget during which the Government will reveal how they intend to deal with pensioner taxation.

Those who have ONLY the state pension to live on but NO OTHER income have nothing to fear from the Tax Man according to Torsten Bell, Pensions Minister who decreed that anyone falling into this bucket should not be burdened with the administrative headache of filling out online tax returns. This pretty much echoes what came out of the last budget (see my post The Policy of Truth Nov 2025).

I can’t wait to hear how the Government are going to deal with ‘liars’ because when it comes to paying tax everyone’s likely to become more economical with the truth, aren’t they? How will the Treasury identify which of us have ONLY a state pension to live on?

I’m thinking that if you only have a state pension to live on ie £13,036 per annum from next April and NO OTHER forms of personal income or savings in the bank then presumably you would be entitled to claim other benefits such as winter fuel allowances or discounts off your council tax which are also not taxed. A double bubble for some.

So, my question again - how will those that claim to be poor pensioners be assessed? There will have to be a mechanism, a form of ‘means-testing’ or some kind of assessment or criteria to determine whether folks have additional income streams or are lying through their teeth when they claim they haven’t a bean to live on other than what the state gives them.

And indeed, I can give you a practical example of how someone with only a state pension to live on can actually earn lots more by using ‘tax stacking’ to maximise their personal income without even having to report it to the Revenue. Read on as you won’t see this shared by Torsten Bell or Money Saving Expert.

Tax Stacking is the practice of layering lots of different tax allowances on top of each other so you can have your cake and eat it without sharing a single crumb with the Tax Man. I’ve put my ‘estimated’ income from each category in bold text. Let the stacking begin:

Annual State Pension from April 2027: £13,036
According to Torsten, if that’s all you have to live on then this will be subject to zero tax.

Renting out a spare bedroom: £3,000
Under the Government’s Rent-a-Room scheme, you can earn £7,500 a year (joint ownership) or £3,750 each before any tax is due. As long as your takings don’t exceed the £3,000-ish mark then every rental penny is yours.

Renting out your driveway: £800
Property Trading Allowance is £1,000 per annum. Incomes from driveways are treated separately to room rental which means that allowing a few punters to pay to park occasionally outside your home can add to your tax-free income.

Side Hustles: £800
Trading Allowance is £1,000 per annum. Incomes from all those extra-curricular activities such as online selling, fast food deliveries, crafting, etc. Yep, those funky bird feeders you fashioned out of scrap timber that you sell on cyber market places are all classed as side hustles. Provided the cumulative total of any income raised from side hustles is below the threshold then not a problem, you don’t need to declare it.

Share Dividends: £300
Dividend Allowance is £500. Tax is only paid if your annual share dividend income exceeds this figure but if you only hold a few shares then anything below this threshold is a free gift.

Savings Interest (not ISA a/cs): £800
Personal Savings Allowance (PSA) for basic-rate taxpayers is £1,000 of savings interest tax-free per year for everything held outside of an ISA tax wrapper. Always keep your cash in an ISA to avoid getting an unexpected tax demand especially now savings interest rates are rising.

Selling Assets: £2,000
Got a few gold trinkets you no longer wear? What about that old oil painting gathering dust in the attic? If you’re thinking of flogging these to boost your pension then remember the Capital Gains Tax annual exempt amount is £3,000. Covers the sale of personal assets that have increased in value not car-booting crap.

By stacking these 6 different tax allowances together to form a tax tower, you can potentially add almost £8,000 to your annual state pension without having to part with a single penny in tax. This is all perfectly legal and above board, no shady business on this blog. Unless the Government decide to do away with any or all of these allowances which is always a possibility at the next budget then feel free to stack away to your heart’s content.

I must add here that these allowances apply to everyone not just those who are living solely on a state pension.  We can all tax stack but bear in mind that if you massively exceed any of these allowances and your main source of income is not just a state pension then you could end up accidentally pushing yourself into a higher tax bracket if your total personal income exceeds £50,000 per annum.

Key takeaway - Know your tax allowances then make sure you always keep your earnings in each category below the threshold for a tax free existence.  If you think I'm talking bollocks then fair enough otherwise ask your local, friendly accountant to explain how you might benefit from tax stacking.

As I’ve always said the secret to a happy, prosperous retirement is getting on top of tax.

LIFE IN THE SLOW LANE

Back in February when early retirement was still a nebulous dream, I had a plan – a list of activities to rush off and do once I was no longer shackled to an office desk. It looked something like this:

Complete wall panelling downstairs
Rip up old corridor carpet for replacement flooring
Take up wild water swimming
Consider joining the local WI group
Dig large hole in garden for a pond
Finish itinerary for a trip to east coast of Australia
Do more volunteering
Buy a sketch book and have an art attack
Climb Snowdonia
Gardening, gardening and more gardening
Sign up for those free local council Heart Smart walks

But in the 6 months since I left work, I’m beginning to realise that the pace of life in retirement is not what it once was. Somehow, I’ve subconsciously shifted out of 5^th gear and moved across into the crawler lane like all those other old tabbies behind the wheel who drive like they have all the time in the world.  Retirement is definitely more milk float than Ferrari.

Procrastination rules and that’s not always a good thing. It now takes me at least 3-4 weeks to get round to doing things which before I would have raced round to cram into an afternoon. Time has developed a gooey fluid quality, flowing like a lazy river through the jungle of my life.

So, I’ve finished the panelling, flooring and have started on the garden but as for the rest of the list? Well, there’s plenty of time to get round to considering it.

The problem with having all day to do stuff is it’s easy to get distracted. Take today for example. I should be touching up the bottom of the architraves in the corridor. I’ve had this task on my ‘To Do’ list for at least 3 months, yet some unseen force prevents me from picking up a paint brush. Instead, I’m blogging, baking, or painting pebbles. Basically, doing random shit except that which is important because that’s what being time rich is all about. Filling your day. With pleasurable, enjoyable fun stuff to while away the hours.

I need painting

In true procrastinator fashion, tasks left undone are transferred across to tomorrow’s ‘To Do’ list. Trouble is, I’m moving over the same things almost daily and never ticking them off. Hopelessly idle. Can’t be helped but more likely can’t be arsed. I’m retired so every day’s a weekend. At some point, I will get off my lazy arse to finish the architraves but for now, I’m off to pick the last of my ripened tomatoes in my nightie before I head off for a shower.

Last of the ripening tomatoes

OMG! CLADDING FINISHED

Not a cloud on the horizon. Today’s forecast is perfect for cladding – not too hot, not too wet and not too windy. Sweet.

The sound of builder’s beavering away outside is music to my ears. I’m hopeful that today could be the day when this cladding project is finally finished but I’m tempering my enthusiasm by buggering off for a spot of tai chi to release all that pent up negative no-cladding energy. I want to see real progress by the time I get back I tell myself as I swan off up the road in tight-fitting leggings in this glorious October sunshine.

I’ve deliberately dawdled home so as not to give the impression that I’ve been all that bothered by the shenanigans of these procrastinating peeps when in fact, I’m desperate to see what they’ve been up to.

Cor! Looks like they’ve pulled out all the stops. The cladding now reaches the apex, covering every inch of wall space. Nice. In addition, a strip of trim is covering all those awful uneven board edges so everything has a tidy finish.

The cladding tide has finally come in

All that’s left to do is fit the last bit of soil pipe, refix the front guttering, clear all the rubbish off site and job’s a good ‘un. 

Soil stack completed

Bedroom window frame neatly trimmed in white

Begone lawn killer!

Was I a bit too hasty in meting out imaginary punishments before any real crime had been committed? Let’s just say I won’t be sending this lot any return invitations for afternoon tea although when all is said and done, they've done a fabulous job sprucing up this tired old wall.  You could almost say it was worth waiting for ...

As for my impatience, I’m laying the blame firmly at the door of my Spanish heritage.

Planters returned to the alleyway

PAYING EXTRA TAX VOLUNTARILY

There’s been a slew of celebrities in the media recently volunteering to pay extra taxes to help the nation. Michael Palin being the last person to publicly express this desire. Clap. Clap. Clap. I applaud these noble sentiments. If you’ve got a few extra thousand quid sloshing about then why not give it to the Tax Man? Fool!

However, since there is no mechanism in place for tax revenue to be paid into Treasury coffers that isn’t actually due then I have a better suggestion to make and that is, give this cash to deserving causes that can put the funds directly into good use.

Do you really trust the Government or The Revenue to actually spend your money wisely? I mean you’ve only got to look at what they spend our taxes on now such as continually giving it to the French to fund their beach inactivity, paying it to wind farms to switch off because the grid lacks the necessary cabling to cope with all that extra power or paying for the unemployed to have nice days out at theme parks. Not much of a philanthropic return on your tax investment in UK PLC is it?

But if you were to donate a sizeable sum of money to a charity of your choice then not only would you probably mitigate some of your own personal tax bill but the funds could be put to immediate use. No doubt there are many local good causes crying out for a chunk of money to fund things that would have a beneficial impact on a community. Michael, just ask your friends, neighbours or your PA to recommend one near you then sponsor it.

Better still, give the money to a local hospice. We might all end up needing their end-of-life care services especially now that the Assisted Dying Bill has been well and truly scuppered. Hospices are known to be under-funded and many may have established means for taking in philanthropic bequests or donations. Giving your surplus cash to these selfless institutions so that folks can be properly looked after in their final days is far more of a noble act than just handing the dosh over to HMRC.

I prefer the Michael Sheen style of philanthropy, buying up the debts of ordinary people then cancelling them entirely thus liberating them from the capitalist enslavement of financial institutions. Definitely the right idea in my book.

So, if there are any other celebs out there with money burning a hole in their pocket who want to give something back to the country then act locally rather than nationally. Do not volunteer to pay extra taxes – no-one in their right mind would EVER want to do that!

AND STILL NO END IN SIGHT

I’m on the verge of ‘bumping’ off these builders. Killing them stone dead with a ‘Right. You’re off the job’ missile.

As expected, a damp squall has blown in from the West. It’s radio silence from the errant trades. Not a peep. No apology for non-appearance. Nothing. Just the sound of a frustrated tattoo being smashed out on my laptop, keyboard glowing hot, the air blue with expletives. I don’t dare ring the builder for fear of unleashing a verbal kraken. Instead, I sit stewing, scowling out the window at the pitiful spotty raindrops.

Eventually, gathering every ounce of self-composure I can muster, I text. Polite. Respectful. No capitals. No ‘where the f*** are you?’ but a more restrained ‘I guess you’re not coming today?’ My tooth-gritting restraint must have travelled down the phone line eliciting a whiny response about working at height in windy weather. Be there tomorrow. Yeah? I’ve heard that one before.

Fast forward to lunch - tasty snackette of marmalade slathered crispbreads topped with hard-boiled egg. (Weirdo!). The doorbell rings. ‘What now?’ I mutter rudely with a gob full of half-chewed food. Hastily swallowed, I brush off my crumbed chest with a few aerobic sweeps then head for the front door. ‘Hello. You must be the abseiling plumber, licensed to scale scaffolding in a force 5. Come on in.’

No doubt a peace offering from Vlad who must have realised by now that although I may be small, inoffensive looking and make a good cuppa, I’m strictly a ‘no-nonsense’ type of gal. My pipework now beautifully teed in to the main soil waste pipe, let’s hope these peeps keep their promises to finish this cladding tomorrow.

From this

To this

Handbasin & shower overflows tee'd in to main soil stack

FLYING KITES

There’s less than a month to go to the dreaded Budget and one thing that’s noticeably absent from the tabloids this year is kites.

Flying kites. The deliberate leaking of information by the Treasury to gauge public opinion on any policy changes they may be weighing up. You didn’t really think this stuff gets into the media because some inattentive numpty accidently hit the ‘enter’ key? Nope. The Treasury knowingly lets one slip out then sits back to wait and see exactly how the public might react to whatever hellish stink has polluted the atmosphere.

This time last year the papers were full of kites but this year there seems to have been little to excite the masses into a righteous pre-budget froth. It’s worrying. It’s generally known that the quiet ones are the worst but this parliamentary silence is probably more unsettling than loads of scurrilous front-page rumours.

I imagine that Horrible Healy is playing his cards very close to his chest for his first budget because he is unlikely to be delivering any pleasant early Christmas presents. We’re all on the naughty list although if he gave everyone a lump of coal at least it may go some way to reducing energy bills. (Price cap rumoured to increase somewhere between 16% to 24% in January 2027).

The best way to deliver bad tidings is unexpectedly then people have limited or no time to react to the news.

Too many rumoured tax increases are going to send more rich folks running for those tax-haven hills, a scenario the Government are keen to avoid at all costs particularly as they’ve lined up all their ducks to further tax that super-wealthy one percent. Naturally, if there are no rich poshos left to tax then the spotlight is going to shift firmly on us ordinary peeps.

In the same way that gardeners are tending the flower borders, preparing them for that long winter sleep, we too should be weeding through our personal finances now getting them combat-ready for any fight, flight or freeze responses to whatever the Treasury has to throw at us.

I’ve already withdrawn a chunk of private pension to max out my cash ISA in case the Chancellor cuts the savings thresholds even further or increases the basic rate of income tax or savers tax. I’d rather take a 20% hit now but be ready to take advantage of any base rate rises coming after the budget. If he does increase income tax rates imagine the mad financial scramble of lemmings trying to avoid the taxation cliff edge before next April.

Don’t forget that cash ISA savings thresholds are only at £20,000 until next April after which it will drop down to £12,000 for anyone that is under 65 years old. Since cash ISA accounts are pretty much the only legitimate way for savers to shelter money from the tax man in the UK then it makes sense to squirrel away as much of your hard-earned dosh into them because my gut feel is that eventually in the dim and distant future, cash ISAs may be phased out thus forcing anyone building up a sizeable nest egg to pay savers tax.

It’s important to remember that some kites may fly but never actually get off the ground so always exercise due diligence before making any hasty financial decisions. Crunch those numbers. Ask AI. Flip a coin. Stick a finger in the air. Just be ready to act when the curtain falls on 28 October. In the meantime, keep looking out for those kites.

STILL WAITING

Hindsight is a wonderful thing. There’s definitely scope for AI to be put to good use to invent crystal balls that allow punters to see the outcome of decisions made. A ‘sliding doors’ soothsayer ball.

Now if I’d had one of these future-predicting spheres at the point when I reviewed all cladding quotes then I might not be in this standstill situation because my magical globe would have pin-pointed this scenario exactly and I would have chosen to go with another builder. No farting about waiting to see when my project might resume.

I’ve come to the conclusion that Vlad the Clad is either a complete incompetent monkey or has memory retention issues. Either way, it’s clear that he is NOT a man of his word. The last text message received promised a return visit on Tuesday with plumber in tow.

So, when I advised him that the additional cement boards had been delivered on Monday afternoon, I was not expecting a reply as follows:

Ohhh blimey. I was told it was coming Wednesday afternoon. I’m on another job now but definitely be there Thursday to finish the job.

Right. You promised you’d be back Tuesday and once again, I’ve been bumped for another job. Bumped. Twice. Not once – TWO times!!!!!! If you’d been told the boards weren’t coming until Wednesday afternoon then why did you tell me you’d be back on Tuesday? Agreed, you hadn’t specified which Tuesday on your text but I had naturally assumed it would be the next one on the calendar.

Aaahh, now I get it. Another job. That’s why you didn’t come back to screw in the last remaining bits of timber for the cladding framework or clear all the debris from my garden which you could easily have done on the Friday whilst you were waiting for extra boards to arrive. If I had been doing this job myself that’s exactly what I would have done during down time. But no.

The grass of my lawn should have been regenerating in the cooler damper days we’ve recently had but instead is suffocating under a mountain of builder ‘tut’ currently cluttering the back garden. I have the world’s supply of wall pots to screw back into position once you lot have buggered off so that I can prepare these for next year’s planting.

Clearly you don’t seem to realise that every day of delay is yet another day that I can’t get on with these tasks which really need to be done before winter or the monsoon season sets in.

Which brings me right back to thinking about project delay penalties. Now that I have the materials on site, could I employ someone else to finish this job then pay Vlad proportionally for work he completed? Under consumer legislation what are my rights in such a scenario?

It doesn’t help that Thursday’s forecast is potentially a rainy one providing yet another excuse for further delay but my patience is now wearing very thin. Thinner than a sheet of bog paper. And when patience is thin, a volcanic eruption usually follows. I want my project finished by end of October max and God help you if it isn’t!

STANDSTILL

Seriously, I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried. Lord knows I have a very fertile imagination but this really does take the biscuit!

Day three of cladding and there’s still no end in sight. Good progress made today, the cladding tide now topping the bedroom window yet a long way off from reaching the apex.

Cladding has now reached bedroom window

Rewind a few hours. There’s been a steady stream of foot traffic to the downstairs loo. Either these peeps have dodgy prostrates or they can’t help but come in to admire my funky cloakroom décor. Still, it does beg the question – how do builders manage on jobs where no loo access is provided? Bucket in the back of the van?

It doesn’t help that I’m sat here clacking away on my laptop within earshot from the loo. If you tinkle, sprinkle, play a tune on your trouser trumpet or use my toilet as a telephone box then yes, I can hear everything. And I mean everything. Every little droplet hitting the pan because the one thing I didn’t include in my cloakroom refurb was music-studio grade sound proofing.

I can especially hear loud conversations to builder’s merchants pleading for extra cement fibre boards to be delivered urgently because you’ve under-estimated the amount needed for this job. And I can detect from the frustration in your voice that these are either out of stock or that further supplies are unlikely to be delivered today which means there’s a high probability that you guys won’t be back tomorrow.

Whoops!  Not enough cement fibre boards

Should have put a fiver on it. Not a dickie bird mention of this situation to me whilst on site. Ping! Is that the sound of a text message arriving? Yep, you guessed. Project at a standstill yet again, return date estimated as being next week.

If only customers could include delay penalties on trade quotes where a daily charge is deducted for every lost day of productivity because at this rate, I’d be getting this job done for free. Oh well, better late than never.

Nice and neat round the window

CLADDING CONTINUES

It’s day two of the cladathon. As nice as these guys are, I am seriously beginning to wonder about their cladding credentials.

My expertise in these matters may be zilch but I’m sure you don’t cut cement fibre boards with a jigsaw. The clue’s in the name, Numbnuts. Cement. If I was cutting those boards myself, I’d probably be using an angle grinder or circular saw with a nice sharp diamond blade. It’s no wonder progress is slow. I keep schtum as I hand over the tea tray.

And whose clever idea was it to send a 16 year-old lad to smash an asbestos soil pipe into pieces in the middle of my slowly recovering lawn without so much as a stitch of protective clothing or a tarpaulin to catch any of the debris? Really?

Our surveyor repeatedly warned us NOT to scrape, drill or crack the pipe because any kind of damage releases the hazardous toxic material for which asbestos is much maligned yet Vlad seems happy to sign a death-warrant on his pimply apprentice and contaminate my garden without a care in the world. Any considerations of potential human or environmental impact clearly missing from builder brain.

Slowly recovering lawn cluttered again

I shake my head in disbelief and go back to my knitting. Mutter, mutter, mutter. Don’t worry, as soon as you lot have buggered off, I shall be out in my hazmat gear to pick up every single little bitty piece of piping and black paint flakes, I tell myself. If I had a grass hoover, I’d vacuum the lawn just to make sure every particle of A-dust is gone.

After a second labouring day, the cladding tide has only just reached the spare room window. According to Dr Google, cladding the apex on a house takes on average one day making the productive output of these dudes look like that of a sausage dog.

Cladding tide continues to come in slowly

Has reached the window on one side

Hope you're doing something to hide those ragged edges

Back in the workplace, I’d have said this looks like a clear-cut case of ‘stringing it out.’ Perhaps this is how some trades justify charging extortionate prices for this type of work by billing you for the week instead of for a couple of days then working at a leisurely snail’s pace instead of cracking on.

VLAD THE CLAD

Bumped. How dare you!

Whilst I appreciate builders can’t control the vagaries of the English weather or be expected to expose themselves to sunstroke in temperatures that make San Tropez feel a bit nippy, I was not best pleased to be told weeks ago that my job was being sidelined in favour of a more lucrative indoor project. But such is the reality of employing external trades. If a better paying offer comes along then expect your job to go to the back of the line.

After weeks of waiting, Vlad the Clad is back with his band of merry men to finish what they started months ago – cladding the exterior side wall of the house.

‘Really appreciate you letting us do that other woman’s job first’ said Vlad, disarming me with a cheeky chappy Jack-the-lad smile in a face browner and crinklier than a sultana. Hmmphh! Didn’t really have a choice in the matter, did I? Simple builder economics. Her £6,000 job trumped mine and provided shade so muggins here just had to suck it up.

But they’re here now, ladder and towers in tow, turning the front drive into a makeshift cladding workshop whilst I pop the kettle on for periodic refreshments. And yes, stereotypically they do drink their tea ‘builders’ – that is strong and sweet.

Just make yourselves at home

Is that singing I can hear? Sounds like they’re having way too much fun out there. Too many tenors, not enough cladding. You better hope I don’t find any defects or you’ll be singing a different tune when I fail to pay my bill in full.

Whole lotta nothing going on

It’s now 3 o’clock. Vlad and his crew have mysteriously vanished without so much as a goodbye. Probably seeking shelter from the sun’s rays so they don’t turn into a pile of ash. When I’ve established the coast is clear, I venture out to check on progress.

What the ….? Three of them spent an entire day faffing about outside, crooning to Shite Radio and all there is to show for their industriousness (or lack of) is a strip of metal trim and a couple of rows of cement fibre board nailed into place. Exactly what am I paying for here?

Metal ventilation trim

All in a day's work

Hours later, a text pings into my inbox. Guess who? Yep, job is being bumped yet again as now rain is on the forecast. Seriously?  Grrrr!!!!

BUTT MANIA CURED

Just look at these two beauties. 

They’re everything I could hope for in a water butt – strong, sleek, a pair of dark sentinels standing guard in the back border. Wow!

Cor blimey, they're huge!

Carping the diem this weekend starting with these stratas. No good having loads of water butts unless they’re connected up to the guttering so stop farting about as it’s time to get them into their new home.

There’s not a great deal of space to work in back here plus access is impeded by a few existing shrubs. Going to have to dig up the hibiscus first before we can do anything else. Amuse yourselves for a few minutes.

You'll never squeeze those into that jungle

Several sweaty minutes later… It’s all about the base. Butts need a nice stable spot on which to place the plastic stand they sit on. Somewhere they won’t rock about once full of water and where you can access the tap. Having levelled off the dirt at the back of the border, I’ve made a butt platform using some chunky old planks dumped behind the shed.

Make a nice level platform 

Pruners please. A bit of emergency bush surgery is needed to clear back the undergrowth as gap between fence and shrubbery is still not quite wide enough for my own lard arse let alone a large water butt. There! That’s done it. Now I can get the stands in place.

Stands fit perfectly

With both stands in situ, next step is to prepare the butts for linking. To connect three butts together, you need 2 connection kits. (£11 each at B&Q if you can’t wait for an online delivery). Each kit contains a length of hose plus a couple of adapters, washers and nuts. (I don’t mean us either!).

Water butt connecting kit

Using a hex shank drill bit or a router, make a couple of holes large enough for the adapters in the specially indented circles on each side of the water butt. Push the adapters with washers attached into each hole then tighten into position by winding the plastic nut onto the thread from inside the butt.

Circular indentations to drill adapter holes

Now the adapters are in, place butts onto stands making sure the sides with the adapters are facing each other and you can get to the tap. Lifting one of these beasties over the garden greenery is certainly not the easiest of jobs in a space smaller than the defence budget. Good job I've had my three shredded wheat.

Tricky to lift over greenery

Once you are happy with your butt position, push the hoses onto each adapter. We have lift off. We’re gonna do the butt conga. Oooh. aaahh. Seven hundred litres of rain capture capacity. Get in!

All linked up

All I need is love and rain. Lots and lots of the lovely wet stuff so I can corner the garden water market. Butt mania cured – for now.

BUTT MANIA

Since the heatwave I’ve been dreaming of butts. Large butts, small butts, perfectly formed butts, space saver butts. Cute builder butts. Okay, not those but essentially dreaming of any kind of large receptacle in which to capture rain water. I’d even go as far as calling it an obsession.

Dry weather has naturally pushed up the price of butts because now everyone’s realised how bad the effects of a prolonged droughty summer were on all things green then demand for rainwater tanks, butts, buckets or anything else designed to hold lots of the wet stuff is now greater than ever. Even the grandson’s paddling pool has been conscripted for rain capture.

Lots of rain captured in one of these

I already have 2 water butts plus an oversized water collecting tank in the garden but this barely touched the sides during the summer scorcher. Be prepared is my motto. It’s not for nothing that I have a Domesday cupboard just in case the four horsemen of the apocalypse unexpectedly drop in for tea.

A quick consultation with Dr Google on my butt fixation. Diagnosis – expensive. For £130 there’s a magnificent 350 litre beauty called a Harcostar Magnum. Wow! What a whopper but perhaps a bit too large for the space I have in mind. There are more budget friendly options out there such as a 227 litre Harcostar (£70) or a smaller 210 litre cheapo butt (£59) available from Amazon.

Harcostar Magnum - nice butt!

Of course, the big question is how much do I really want to spend to cure butt mania? Naturally, my answer is I want the biggest capacity for the least capital outlay. The butt that appears to meet these requirements is a Strata 250 litre water butt. Spacious, reasonably priced and not so monstrously sized that it can’t be squeezed in somewhere. Rather than being short and squat, it’s tall and slim.

Strata 250 litres - come to mama

I have a perfect little ‘butt hole’ in the back border where I hope to conceal a couple of these Stratas behind a few manicured shrubs. The plan is to link the two new butts to the existing one which is connected to the shed guttering. It never ceases to amaze me just how much water can be collected from a shed roof during a downpour.

The perfect 'butt hole' at the back of the garden

It’s not for nothing that we work in a builder’s merchants – staff discount. Handy little perk when it comes to DIY shopping as I can now really push the butt boat out without needing to sign over my soul to Satan.

I’ve packed the other half off with an envelope stuffed full of tenners and strict instructions not to return home empty handed. Basically – it’s butts or else!