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Bike and ‘bul and food of the dogs!

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So. An update you say?

Ok.

Well the saga of the dog food’s a good one. Bear with me if it looks like I’m rambling. There IS a point. We get a specific, quite expensive brand of dog food in huge sacks (having two large-ish dogs/muppets). It’s good for their digestion, since they have delicate stomachs and different foods, changes in diet and almost any kind of environmental variation give them the ability to poo through the eye of a needle. Well recently we were told by our vet (where we buy the food) that this food was becoming very hard to get hold of. Apparently the manufacturer, who I think is American, has halted distribution until all their partners sign a non-GM agreement. Very laudable I’m sure, but it doesn’t help us alleviate the ‘squit’ situation. So we sourced other suppliers of this food. On our way to Lincoln the other week, we would go by the small local village of Bishop Monkton, where another supplier lives. Trying to track him down the woman in the shop looked at Mrs M as if she had a penguin growing out of her ear and said “well he lives down the lane back there… but… well he might not be there and he has dogs.” Seems ok to Mrs M, so we set of up this extremely narrow lane, which then becomes a track, and then a long, thin quarry complete with boulders and finally a brown narrow field. Imposing high brick walls reminiscent of prisons appear on the left with VERY locked up gates. All a bit daunting. So in the end we give up, ground the car on a rock the size of Taunton and head off to Lincoln, leaving small pieces of car along the track as we return. And so the next stage was ordering online. Mrs M found a company who shall remain nameless due to the desire not to be sued, and ordered two bags of our Nutro Choice food from them. After twice the given delivery period and just one day after we’d finally run out of our previous stock, the food was delivered to my parents’ house (as they’d be there and we’d be out.) Joyously that night we went down to collect it and discovered that they’ve charged us the £60 for Nutro Choice and sent us instead two bags of cheap and nasty Hundsgekrappen German budget dog food. So… Our doggies lived for a while on pasta and rice until we managed finally to get another bag from our vet (though the supply still looks dubious.) In the meantime, Mrs M began the process of trying to get them to refund us and collect the food. Over the last 2 weeks (yes it’s been 2 weeks of trying to get them to collect it), she has send them around 10 emails, each gradually getting meaner and nastier and the last few beginning to threaten with legal action (Mrs M is not a person to cross by the way) and several phone calls at premium rate to their helpline that each time puts you on hold for two minutes as it runs your phone bill up and then dutifully cuts you off without passing the phone within half a mile of a human ear. And in the end she rang the main company number which is, we gather, in Sweden. So she’s paying international phone rates to try and get a woman who appears to spend her downtime sucking a bar of lead to arrange the collection of the food. The woman says “how’s tomorrow?” Mrs M says “fine” and it’s all arranged, apart from the fact that they never turned up. She sent in a complaint about this woman but nothing happened, so she rang to follow up the lack of collection and her complaint and who did she speak to? Yep… the woman herself. We are steadily becoming convinced that there is just one woman in Sweden and she has the IQ of a Satsuma. Anyway, to cut a long story… errr… long, they finally collected it today. Apparently, according to the drive, he’d been out to pick it up once before, but there was no one there. He’d been given the contact number and rang it, but got no answer, so they’d failed. It had turned out that the Swedish Retards had put their own contact details on his form and not ours, so he’d been ringing his own company when he got there who, unsurprisingly, hadn’t answered. Thus ends the saga.

Yes, I’m in a typing mood. What’s the betting this crashes before I upload and I lose the whole thing.

And then there’s the matter of the scooter. I’ve been keeping you kind of updated about that. Well the tyre we had on order never turned up and it turned out they didn’t have the correct card details so they never put the payment through. So I ordered one from the garage where I bought the scooter and last night Mrs M and I went there and collected the new tyre. My father in law put it on the wheel last night and I put the wheel back on the bike this morning. Now, so long as it starts when I try later on, I am fully mobile once more. I think that herein, I need to finish. I’ve come in to work very early today, but it’s almost time to start.

Well to finish off here’s a selection of interesting quotes I’ve found while looking into our upcoming visit to Istanbul in a month:

1. From “The Innocents Abroad” by Mark Twain…

We left a dozen passengers in Constantinople, and sailed through the beautiful Bosporus and far up into the Black Sea. We left them in the clutches of the celebrated Turkish guide, “FAR-AWAY MOSES,” who will seduce them into buying a ship-load of ottar of roses, splendid Turkish vestments, and ail manner of curious things they can never have any use for. Murray’s invaluable guide-books have mentioned ‘Far-away Moses’ name, and he is a made man. He rejoices daily in the fact that he is a recognized celebrity. However, we can not alter our established customs to please the whims of guides; we can not show partialities this late in the day. Therefore, ignoring this fellow’s brilliant fame, and ignoring the fanciful name he takes such pride in, we called him Ferguson, just as we had done with all other guides. It has kept him in a state of smothered exasperation all the time. Yet we meant him no harm. After he has gotten himself up regardless of expense, in showy, baggy trowsers, yellow, pointed slippers, fiery fez, silken jacket of blue, voluminous waist-sash of fancy Persian stuff filled with a battery of silver-mounted horse-pistols, and has strapped on his terrible scimitar, he considers it an unspeakable humiliation to be called Ferguson. It can not be helped. All guides are Fergusons to us. We can not master their dreadful foreign names.

2. From an online guide to Istanbul …

The exterior of the Blue Mosque is so endlessly satisfying that you should not spoil it by going inside (it reeks of tourist sock).

Have fun.

Moosey

Written by SJAT

January 7, 2011 at 4:18 pm

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