FRIDGE MAGNETS

Nothing says home more than the extensive collection of fridge magnets you build up over the years.  It’s a visual reminder of countless holidays or those little jokes that tickle your fancy.  My collection is a wonderfully colourful tribute to a debauched life of travel, fun and adventure that has adorned the freezer since I moved in more than 20 years ago.  

Fridge magnets - the only thing holding the freezer door together

That part of my life is now safely tucked inside this little green box, waiting to resurface miles away when we move into our new home.

All packed and ready to go into storage

It’s week three of re-furlough and I’m bored.  There’s only so much packing you can do in a day before you begin to wonder what it would be like to seal yourself into a large box and be posted to some unsuspecting punter out there.  Surprise!!  Imagine the look on their face as they rip back the cardboard expecting to see a polished chrome towel rail ordered from Amazon only to find you instead.  Hilarious!

Today Shelby and I are packing up the kitchen.  I’ve been packing it up for over a week now, Jeez I didn’t realise I had soooo much stuff.  I mean a whole drawer full of Tupperware, is that normal?  “And do you really need a cupboard full of different metal baking tins?” asks the other half.  Well of course you do.  Duh - it would be really messy trying to bake chocolate muffins in a holey pizza tray.  Gotta have the right tin for the right bake, yes?

I love popping bubblewrap

Making sure she's stuck the tape on properly

Daughter has saved the day bringing us a job lot of empty boxes and bubble wrap from her house move.  She sheepishly tried to sneak back a super-sized IKEA bag full of shoes into the boot of her car without her other half spotting them but to no avail.  Caught like a rabbit between the headlights, the Imelda Marcos of Charminster fessed up to owning more than 50 pairs of footwear.  Love me, love my shoes.  Chocolate muffin anyone?

This is only the tip of the shoe-berg

YING & YANG

Good day
I am writing secretly to let you know that a customer died at my bank without a surviving relative inheriting the money. He left millions in his account.
If you are interested, you will receive further details

Sincerely yours
Executive investment and loans
Mr. Ying

It's not every day you receive free cash especially from the Government but I was most surprised to see a message from a Mr Ying in my junk mail offering me untold wealth.  No word of a lie, above is the email I received.

Chuffed that Mr Ying felt he could ‘secretly’ write to me about his dearly departed and childless client.  I feel sure I would make a fitting inheritor to a vast fortune being both prudent with my finances and having few vices other than prolific book buying, spending hours soaking in a bathtub or splurging out on a cheeky KFC meal every now and then.  I suppose I could use a few million quid to tart up my new house, invest in all the latest gadgetry or buy a gold plated toilet seat or whatever it is rich people buy these days.

Seriously though Mr Ying, do you think I was born yesterday?  Although it is always possible your client could have died at your bank probably waiting for the only teller open to become available (such is the impact of online banking on retail branches) I’m sure your client would have waited for a more convenient place in which to ‘pop their clogs’.  

I have no doubt Mr Ying will be sending me further details; such is the persistent nature of scammers they just don’t understand the need to keep inboxes at a manageable level!

STAMP DUTY HOLIDAY

Everyone loves holidays and everyone loves stamps or at least they did back in the 70’s when for a 10 year old, collecting postage stamps was the equivalent of having an X-Box.   I remember the excitement of a letter landing on the doormat with a brightly coloured stamp on it, carefully peeling it away from the envelope and sticking into a photo album made from a ring-binder with graph paper pages.  Those were the days.

Postage stamps - almost a thing of the past

Fast forward 40 years when postage stamps are almost obsolete and the only thing folks are interested in is stamp duty, a tax payable around 14 days after you buy a property.  How much you pay depends on whether you’re a first time buyer and the price of the property but for those of us who have already been once around the property block, there’s no escaping this tax.

A stamp duty holiday is an unexpected windfall for us and home buyers everywhere.  On our purchase price of £349,000 we’d be stumping up a whopping £7,450 and believe me when I say, it kills me to have to hand over that amount of my hard earned cash to Chancellor Roland Rat just for buying somewhere to live.  So you can imagine my joy at having my prayers for stamp duty absolution answered by the Tax God.  Thank you Mr Sunak for your grand gesture as it will make a big difference not just in our lives but for everyone else too.  

According to the front page of The Times, I see the Chancellor is now moonlighting as a waiter at the Toby Carvery to do his bit to save the nation.  Slice of Covid Pie anyone?

Double covid burger with virus fritters followed by PPE cake with anti-bac custard

PACKAGE DEAL

Enough of this pandemic tomfoolery!  I’ve been re-furloughed so it’s time to focus on the more serious business of packing up our belongings ready to move house and to find a removals company to do it.  Pack now, save the economy!

Judging by the few quotes I’ve had so far, it’d be cheaper to book a fortnight in Magaluf than move house.  The lowest estimate from Dick Turpin Removals was daylight robbery at £1,350 and that’s not including the cost of putting stuff into storage whilst we wait for our purchase to complete.

Packing boxes are now multiplying faster than stray cats have been in the pandemic and already the upstairs bedrooms are starting to fill up.  I’ve blagged empty boxes from work, Gumtree adverts and even Lidls to save on buying packaging but still you never seem to have enough.

Everyone's after empty boxes

Packing stuff to go into storage

To reduce the overall cost of removals, we’ve decided to rent out another storage unit at the local Lok n Store for our smaller, personal items which we’ll then move to their end destination ourselves.  That just leaves the removal company to take care of the furniture and large items that would be too heavy for us to hump about. 

Getting under my feet - help or hindrance?

Shelby making sure I've emptied the cupboards

Yep, I think that one's been packed

What makes this part of the project all the more tricky is that without fixed timeframes for the completion of either our property sale or property purchase it’s almost impossible to predict the total cost of storage or removals.  I think once we’ve cleared away all the boxes into storage, it’ll be easier to see what is left for the removal company to take and perhaps then we can begin to more accurately calculate their storage costs. 

With all this going on, how I’m going to afford to eat out and save the nation is beyond me.  It’s obvious the Chancellor hadn’t factored in the cost of moving house in his last broadcast as I don’t think my meagre wage is going to stretch to fish n chips as well as buying cardboard packing boxes or paying for expensive removal companies.

Never wrap dogs in bubble wrap

Or place them in cardboard boxes

Relaxing in the tortoise tub after a hard day's packing

SUPER SATURDAY

Whilst everyone else is rushing out to the pub, hairdressers or booking a holiday to Costa del Covid in what I’ve dubbed ‘Stupor Saturday’, I’m sat here reading the paper and thinking Pah!  What a load of numpties!

Chancellor Roland Rat was plastered across yesterday’s copy of The Times encouraging us to ‘eat out to help out’ which is ironic coming from the Government whose most recent pledge is to beat fatties about their lardy bits with the tax stick in a bid to combat obesity.  Yet there he is looking every inch the dapper city gent who’d nipped into his local for a drink on his way home.  

Your Country Needs You In the Pub

Our fly-on-the-wall reporter just happened to overhear this conversation from his 2 metre drinking spot:

Chancellor - “Evening bartender.  I’ll have a gin & tonic with a slice of Covid, please”

Bartender - “Sorry Sir, I can’t serve you.”

Chancellor - “What do you mean you can’t serve me?  Don’t you know who I am?  I’m the Chancellor of the Exchequer that’s who.”

Bartender - “Sir, I don’t care if you’re the Queen of Sheba but you can’t get served unless you’re standing behind that line.  And hands off the bar, we have a ‘no touch’ policy in here.”

Chancellor - “Ah, right.  That line.  Sorry must have missed it, what with being a rat and all that.  I’ll just shuffle backwards a bit.  Better?  Now then how about a nice G&T?”

Bartender - “Sorry sir but I still can’t serve you as you’re not wearing any PPE and that phone number you’ve just given me looks a little bit dodgy.”

Chancellor - “I got my numbers mixed up, Okay?  That’s what happens when you’re a Chancellor, sometimes all those figures dance around in your head in a numerical hokey-cokey and they get shaken all about.  Bit like Budget forecasts.  What if I lift my shirt over my head?”

Bartender - “Well …..  All right but it’s just going to be a single measure and no lemons as that involves chopping which could be infectious.”

Chancellor - “Bless you bartender.  The economic health of the whole country is hinging on you and this G&T.  This is a consumption driven economy so let’s have another and save the summer.  Chin-Chin!”

Truly this is as good as journalistic reporting gets.  Fake news?  You heard it here first!