Aaaagh.......

I am writing this to Calm Down, having spent about an hour trying to sort out Claims.

The first concerns two payments from Paypal that were taken from Pip's bank account in January. Admittedly they were only of £7.81 but it's the principle that matters. It's taking so long to close his bank account (nearly 6 weeks so far) of red tape that I am about to explode. Now I have to ring Paypal and try and sort it out. You can see the fume coming out of my ears, can't you?

The second concerns an application for Bereavement Benefit that I completed over the phone 3 weeks ago but haven't heard anything about. (It used to be called a Widow's Pension. At least I think it did. I've got so confused now, I could hardly tell you my name, though I can tell you my National Insurance number as, in the last half hour, I have run 7 different numbers to do with the Job Centre, and had to recite it every time. Now, why would the Jobcentre handle Bereavement benefits? I have to say that stumps me.) It turns out there is no record of my claim, so they are having to send all the paper work once more.....

But on a lighter note, I was out with my friend Viv and her dog Titch the other day having a breather, sitting on a bench, when Titch bounced on Viv's lap. “I could marry you, Titch,” she said happily.

“I know what you mean,” I said. “I don't know what I'd do without Mollie.” I stroked her thoughtfully. “I suppose I could marry Mollie now.”

“Well, you could,” said the ever practical Viv. “But it'd have to be a civil partnership. And you couldn't wear a white dress.”

Since when has tradition ever stopped me? So watch out - I will be sending out invitations when I have allowed a decent interlude to elapse.

Oh no, not another....

In haste as I am having a quick breather before meeting a deadline. (Yes, RT, I will meet it!)

I caught Himself pounding away on the laptop at seven this morning. This can only mean one thing…yes, you’ve got it.

‘You’re not looking at another cornet, are you?’ I said in tones that would have daunted a lesser male.

Nervous giggle. ‘Well, Pop I couldn’t turn it down. It’s only thirty five quid including postage.’

‘I thought you said you weren’t getting another cornet.’

He frowned and sipped his now cold tea. ‘Well, no, Pop but this one’s different.’ He tried another tack; anything to melt his wife’s cold heart. ‘It’s like a stray dog, darling. I couldn’t say no.’

'We'll have to move house,' I said. 'We haven't got any room for any more cornets.' I despaired and went off to make toast. He came scurrying down the hall like the forementioned stray. ‘I won’t buy any more, Pop. Promise.’

‘You said that before.’ Mountains wouldn’t move me.

‘I could cancel my Paypal account,’ he added in desperation. ‘That’d stymie me.’

But somehow I don’t know that it would.