Grass is always greener

Well, having read this story about a Californian family who got their entire house stolen, I have to admit that I do realise I could have been a whole lot worse off than I am/was. *Grin* I think it’s the fact that they even took the (just under) 10,000 litre water-tank that really adds insult to injury. But it’s definitely one of the more impressive accounts of house-theft.

Not quite so busy

The parental units have vacated the premises, and made their way down to the sunny South. It’s been a pretty good weekend, all things considered – spent yesterday looking at the (*hopefully*) new house and sorting out the initial paperwork for it, then went off into the Peak District, lunch at the Yorkshire Bridge by Derwent Water, back through some of the more hair-raising roads through the Peaks, out again in the evening to one of the the local pubs – which was bloody good.

Today has been inherently lazy. Cooked a full-on roast for lunch, and the parents disappeared at about half five. Since then I’ve done close to naff all – the brain has had some much-needed down-time. Normal service will be resumed tomorrow. In the meantime, I’m just going to keep my fingers crossed that everything comes through for the house.

Busy

Well, there’s been a visitation from the parents, so don’t expect too many updates today or til tomorrow afternoon-ish.

The house viewing went fine, and the application process has been started, so it’s a matter of waiting for references and credit-checks to come back. Let’s hope it happens smoothly and quickly.

The new place is a bit bigger, in a lot better area, and costing a third as much again as where I am. But it’s worth it. Fingers crossed.

Paranoia

I just received a call on my mobile – number withheld – where no-one said anything, and the only noise in the call sounded like the beep the new alarm system at home makes. Straight away, paranoia kicks in – would it have been possible for the scrots to get my number(s) while in the house last time? Imagine how great it would be to call the person who lives in the house while you’re inside it, going through things again. What a laugh.

I called up the neighbourhood wardens (the people who actually discovered the last break-in), explained I was almost certainly being daft, but could they possibly have a look at the house, make sure it was OK? No problem, we’ll call you back. And they just have – the house is fine, it’s just me being paranoid. I can’t wait to move on.

Riding on the Sardine Bus

Earlier this week, Meg (and welcome back, by the way) was saying about the problems experienced by tall people on public transport. On the way to work today I’ve been wedged into seats on both buses – the ones run by First Bus in particular are abysmal, designed for people of about 5’6″ at most, and the seats have this awful moulding on the back that projects out into where your knees should be. This means you either sit with legs either side of the mouldings, which takes up part of the legroom of the person sat beside you, or with your legs jammed together between the mouldings.

Considering all the reports that our average height and size/weight is increasing, what on earth causes the “wisdom” of ramming the seats ever closer together on public transport?

Nine days to go

Bloody hell, it’s AUGUST! How the hell did that happen? Where’s the year gone? It doesn’t seem like all that long ago that the joys of the Festering Season™ were upon us – and yet now we’re two-thirds of the way through the year.

And yes, in nine day’s time, d4d™ will have been going for a year. In some ways that’s even scarier…