Saturday, February 24

God Save The Guardian

This is why I love the Saturday Guardian. Apparently loads of people are claiming back all their overdraft/unpaid direct debit charges because they are unjustified and ridiculous.

Always one to jump on the bandwagon, I have written a letter to my bank asking how much they've charged me over the last 6 years for these sorts of things. I reckon it'll be over £1000. Then I'm going to write a letter and ask for my money back. Again, and again, and again, until they're so fed up of me that they dream about my signature haunting them at night.

Honestly, how the fuck do they ever expect people to be able to get straight if they keep charging them every time they can't afford something. That's crazy talk, that is.

I 'heart' hoovering

Who'd have thought that a £15 vacuum cleaner could bring such joy to my life?

James and I have been sans hoover since we moved to our new flat a month ago, I've been trying to convince him to let us buy one for ages, but he was still fixated on the vacuum that had been promised to us free-of-charge, by a former work colleague of mine. I pointed out that waiting 2 months for a vacuum, and then spending £20 on petrol going to collect it was nonsense, but he wasn't having any of it.

So whilst in Leyton ASDA last week I spied a vacuum for just £15 and snapped it up. When I got home I hurredly tore off the packaging and assembled it with trembling, expectant fingers, anticipating the friendly electronic buzz and general air of freshness such an appliance can bring.

Ladies and Gentlemen; it did not disappoint.

I sailed through the flat, 'oohing' and 'aaahing' and marvelling at the carpet hidden beneath the 1inch thick layer of fluff, dust, dropped pieces of food, rabbit droppings, bits of hay and kimble tags from clothes (why do they always end up on the carpet, even though you put them in the bin, why?). Cheeky (my sexually rampant new house bunny) was extremely suspicious of this new invader to his territory, and he protested by kicking up all the sawdust in his cage and flinging bits of hay through the bars. 'Aha, Cheeky!', I said, 'Your days of leaving mess are through!', and I hooved up yet another piece of half-chewed carrot top from the hall carpet to demonstrate my point.

Mind you, Cheeky's started pooing on the floor a lot more recently, and then rolling in it like a pig. His nuts are SO getting cut off soon.

List # 331

Things I must stop doing:

- stirring my coffee with my biro
- trying to predict my day's success/failure by looking at the skies
- driving over speed bumps at 25 mph (my car's suspension is really not up to it)
- tooting aggressively when drivers miss green lights
- getting distracted on the way to work by counting fried chicken shops on the Seven Sisters Road
- going to M&S in Crouch End

Things I must start doing

- stirring my tea, with a spoon
- going to Budgens in Crouch End

This should be relatively easy, because it calls on inactivity more than anything else, but giving things up is a lot harder than taking things up, and I tend to get stuck in cycles of DOOM that only end when I hit rock bottom.

The quest for the Time Lord continues...

... with celebrity diversions along the way. On Sunday, whilst looking for a spare table in the King's Head on which to eat my Sunday lunch, I came across Les Dennis, a mystery brunette and a few friends dining in a corner.

Despite my usual coolness in the face of celebrity I became quite overcome with an attack of the giggles and had to be led away by my boyfriend while Les Dennis and his posse glared at me like I'd ruined their appetites. Perhaps I had, I only had concealer on, and a lick of blusher.


So no David Tennant, yet (your time will come, Casanova, oh yes...), but I did literally bump into James McAvoy from off of The Lion The Witch and The Wardrobe and the greatly lauded The Last King of Scotland, at the bottom of Crouch Hill last week. I nearly didn't recognise him, because he had dirty jeans on, and one of those semi-trendy miniature hiking backpacks that so many EMO kids and 20-30 male Londonors seem to carry around these days.

He was quite attractive, in a stubbly way.

Some Maths

I am going to the London Metropolitan University in September to study for my teaching degree. As I'll be teaching a 'shortage subject' (English and Drama) I'll be receiving a £9000 bursary from the government.

I am also entitled to a student grant of £6315, because I have no income other than my wages.

I'm obsessed with budgets at the moment, so I did some Key Stage 2 maths:

9000 + 6315 = 15315

15315 / 10 (number of months on course) = 1531.50

Therefore I will be receiving £1531.50 a month. Tax free. And I also get student Oyster.

Fucking hell. That's more than I'm earning at the moment! I know what you're thinking; too good, eh? There must be a catch, eh? Yes, I thought that too, so I calculated how I'd pay it all back, including the student loans I had for my batchelors degree. The website said this:

"Based on the information you provided, our calculations indicate that you will make the following repayments towards your student loan.
Your monthly repayment amount will be £ 68.00 from 01-APR-08 to 30-APR-33 a total of 300 months.
You will, however not repay it within 25 years. After 25 years the remaining balance of
£ 5107.61 will be written off.

Ha, they haven't banked on me retiring at 35 and having children. I'll never pay it off, and there's NUFFIN they can do about it. Hahahahahahahaaaa...

Do Google searches and that...