I hate going on holiday.

I like the “being on holiday” part but loathe the “going bit”.

This time there is quite a party of us heading off to southern Portugal, where we’ve rented a villa for a couple of weeks.

Very nice you may say.

However as everyone else works (or say they do), FE was tasked with the organisation of the trip.

Flights:

Luckily I only had to book 6 places, but of course had to make sure everyone else was catching the same flight on the same day. On line booking is simple at first, but the money is up front and means that you have to claw it back from those who you are booking for.

Closer to the departure date it is time to check in on line. Here of course you have to be very careful. One small mistake and it’ll cost you to rectify it when you arrive at the airport. Yesterday I painstakingly filled the passport details of five of the six into the online form when to my dismay I found out that one of the party had failed to supply me with one crucial piece of information. Grrrr. Cancel whole effort.(Bloody kids).

Finally achieved it today

Getting to and from UK airport:

No chance with the cars that my little party possess to use our mode of transport. Five people, five suitcases, one small child , and a push chair needs some thinking about. Plus running up the equivalent to the National debt in airport parking charges is not an option.

I have however found a limousine company that will transport all of us and our luggage at a reasonable rate.

Boarding cards:

These can be printed out from the computer. However why does the airline, space all the boarding passes for the party with a blank page? (And why does the printer ink run out half way through?)

How to get from destination airport to the Villa.

Here is where I am tasked with organising for the whole group. Car hire for the period has always been the preferred option. It gives you the flexibility you need on holiday.

This is another case of balancing the needs of people and luggage. (A mistake a few years ago cost me 140 euros to rectify).

For our party, we require four medium size  cats. Simple you may say. However online you have to order all of them separately. You can’t write “I want four cars, how much?” And of course they want the money up front. And of course they want full driver details up front. We’re now back in airline check in territory. Grrrr (Again)

Anyway that’s enough moaning for tonight. I’m going to have a stiff drink and a lie down .

Don’t lose your passport

A rant. The perils of travelling abroad.

Dear Mrs. Ms. or Sir:

I am in the process of renewing my lost passport and still cannot believe this.

How is it that Argos has my address and telephone number and knows that I bought a  TV from them in 1990 (23 years ago), and yet, the  Government is still asking me where I was born and on what date. 
For Christ sakes, do you lots do this by hand?  Ever heard of computers?

My birth date is on EVERY income tax form I've filed  for the past 46 years. It's on my NHI card and my driver's license, It's on the last five bloody passports I've had. And it's on all those census forms that you insist I fill in.

Would somebody please take note, once and for all, that my mother's name is Rosemary, my father's name is Anthony and I'm reasonably confident that neither name is likely to change between now and when I die. (Especially pertinent is that they are, in fact, dead.).  
Between you and me, I've had enough of this bureaucratic rubbish!

You send the application to my house, then you ask me for my  #*&#%*&address.

What is going on? You must have a gang of bureaucratic Neanderthal morons working there!

Look at my bloody picture. Do I  look like an arab terrorist?  And "No," I don't want to dig up Yasser Arafat, for fuck sakes.  I just want to go and sit on a sun lounger on a sandy beach.

And would someone please tell me, why would you give a damn whether I plan on visiting a farm in  the next 15 days? 
If I ever got the urge to do something weird to a chicken or a goat, believe you me, I certainly wouldn’t tell anyone!

Well, I have to go now because I have to go to the other end of the the county and get another #*@&#^@*@&  copy of my birth certificate to the tune of £9.25.

Would it be so difficult to  have all the services in the same area so I could get a new passport the same day? Nooooo, that would require planning and organization.  And it would be too logical for the @&^*^%@%government.

You'd rather have us running all over the place like chickens with our heads cut off.  Then, we have to find some fuckwit to confirm that it's really me in the bloody picture - you know, the one where we're not allowed  to smile......Hey, you know why we can't smile?

 
We're totally pissed off!

 
Signed

- An Irate FE.

 
P.S.: Remember what I wrote about getting someone to confirm that the picture is me?  Well, my family has been in the UK since time began.  I have served in the Royal Fleet Auxiliary for something over 43 years and have had security clearances up to atomic secret.. However, I have to get someone important to verify who I am - you know, someone  like my doctor........   WHO WAS BORN AND RAISED IN INDIA !

Rant over. 

In with the new.

Two working men have toiled away fitting new carpets in FE towers. Mind you, I've been nearly exhausted as well. All that tea making for them has nearly worn me out. I ended up like the old carpet. Frayed at the edges.

Technology. Isn’t it great.

I’m now the proud owner of an Android tablet.

Asus TF300T 10.1-inch Multitouch Tablet with Keyboard (Blue) (Nvidia Tegra 3 1.4GHz, 1GB RAM, 32GB HDD, WLAN, BT, 2x Cam, Android 4.0)

The only trouble is that it has an Android operating system, and I’ve been brought up with windows, so I’m having to nearly start all over again in the operating system world.

I’m not too troubled as my phone is an android and I learnt the ins an outs of that eventually, so all is not dire.

The beauty of this tablet is that it has a good battery life of 5  hours. But that’s not all. The detachable keyboard also has a battery. This is claimed to add another 10 hours when attached. (Not like my laptop that barely lasted an hour even when new).

If any one can help me I’d be obliged. I need  blog writing software that is designed for the android system. My phone has Blogaway, but I would like something more sophisticated for the tablet.

Phantom of the Opera

I’ve never heard it played like this. Enjoyable to hear a different version.

Plain packs in the land of the leprechauns.

Live from thejournal.ie comes an article gloating about the introduction of plain packaging on tobacco products in Eire.

AHEAD OF WORLD No Tobacco Day on Friday, the Minister for Health James Reilly has announced that Ireland is to become the second country in the world to introduce plain packets of cigarettes, after Australia.

(No Tobacco day. Memo to self: Buy extra on Friday).

Minister Reilly said he was “confident that this legislation will be justified and supported purely by the fact that it will save lives”.

And of course there is a poll. And we all love polls don’t we? The results so far are nicely condemning of the whole hateful idea. Do follow the link and see if you can up the no vote.

Poll: Do you welcome the introduction of plain pack cigarettes?

A letter to the Doctor

My Son received a letter from his consultant Oncologist to take to his Quack GP. It contained one superlative sentence produced below.

 "Chris knows more about his condition than you do. Stop being a muppet and do what he says."

Straight and to the point I think.

Have a smoke.

Don’t feel downtrodden if you do.

Resourced from Jay at Nannying Tyrants.

Enjoyable?

There’s a certain kind of masochist who considers that gardening is a fun pursuit. Well this blogger considers that pastime was conceived somewhere in the lower circles of hell.

Bearing in mind that it was a hot bank holiday weekend for a change, gardening was not my idea of fun.

Let me explain.

I had to mow a lawn which hadn’t been shown the attendance of a cutting implement for a while. Consequentially mowing with a “Less bovver with a hover” appliance, that was sadly lacking in size and power, brought me out in a hate rage of any garden machinery of an orange colour. I honestly believe it would have been easier to have used a scythe and a vacuum cleaner.

Then there was the strimmer for getting into those parts that the orange machinery fails to do. Bloody thing seemed to eat plastic cord like there was no tomorrow.

The hedge needed cutting. The easy bit is slashing away with the hedge trimmer. The backbreaking part is picking up the detritus that you’ve just hacked off.

Then of course you’ve now accumulated a mountain of green rubbish. And this means a trip to the municipal waste facility (The tip). Queue hell.

Not withstanding that, there is the garden furniture to repair. So off to that well known rip off merchant with the web address starting with DIY. You only want one bracket, but oh no, you have to buy a packet of three.

Now your’e all thinking well done Mr FE you’ve now got an outstanding garden. You’re wrong. It’s the errant son’s garden (Errant cos he lives up north), that I’ve slaved over.

It all started a few months ago when he phoned and invited us up for the bank holiday. (I should have refused outright.) I was expecting to be pampered, wined and dined at expensive restaurants, and generally made to feel special. I should have known better. My daughters put Machiavelli into the third division.

In actual fact it was an interesting experience and brought me back in time to my youth. I knew nothing about gardening or DIY. So my son is not to blame in the slightest. (I’ll outline his faults in a future post).

Probably best to have astroturf and practice celibacy.

*I expect a comment Christopher*

Believe in God?