Arghhhh

I have spent hours catching up on my blog reading but for some reason I could only leave a handful of comments. It didn't seem to matter what type of blog I was reading, those comment pages just weren't showing up!

The cost of living...

*Breaking News*

Dublin is the second most expensive place in the world (after Beverley Hills, Los Angeles) to buy an average four bedroom house.

No wonder I'm still stuck in my shoe box!

A Joke for Witty Wednesday

Thanks to John for keeping me laughing with his jokes.

Husband walks into Ann Summers to purchase some see-through lingerie for his wife. He is shown several possibilities that range from £50 to £150 in price.

The more see-through, the higher the price.

He opts for the sheerest item, pays the £150 and takes the lingerie home.

He presents it to his wife and asks her to go upstairs, put it on and model it for him. Upstairs, the wife thinks "I have an idea. It's so see-through that it might as well be nothing. I'll not put it on, do the modelling naked and return it tomorrow and get a £150 refund for myself".

So she appears naked at the top of the stairs and strikes a pose.

The husband says, "Good grief! It wasn't that creased in the shop".

His funeral is this Thursday

Open letter to Dillon's school.

I received your letter yesterday regarding the three hour detention given to Dillon for 'changing out of his school uniform during break time'. Please could you clarify how wearing your coat instead of the school hoody constitutes changing out of the uniform and also do you expect children to always wear their hoodies even if they are wet (from our climate) or in very hot weather?

The case of the missing mints.

The first time I visit the US was in 2002 when we met up with mum, dad and Sam in Florida for a family holiday of a lifetime. It was during this holiday then Sam introduced us to Junior Mints. One taste and we were all addicted. Sam brought packets of the mints over when she visited in 2005 and when Joules and I went to New York we stocked up on plenty of packets to bring home. Therefore Ben and I were delighted when mum gave us five packets from her recent trip to Canada. We refrained from eating them in Bristol and they were duly packed into my suitcase and flown home across the Irish Sea. Ben was so excited he opened the case to give his daddy his and to get his own. Mollie took her packet the day she returned from camp and the remaining two were safe in my suitcase (ok, I know, I hadn't got around to unpacking yet)! Today I started to unpack the case and found only one packet of Junior Mints, where was the other, have those airports workers sneaked a packet (unfortunately I had the case with me as hand luggage so I can't blame them). So if you find a packet of Junior Mints lying around they're mine and I want them back pronto...please.

Inequality Sucks!

It doesn't strike me as fair that I could go to the same hairdressers as Dillon, get the same stylist as Dillon, have my hair cut in the same style as Dillon yet it would cost me €15 more because of my gender. Then if we both decided on highlights it would cost him €50 and me €120.

Do you think I could disguise myself as a male next time my hair needs a cut?

All the photo's are self portraits as I wasn't allowed to take a picture of the new hairstyle.

Would you believe it?

So we returned home at 7:30pm last night having flown through a lightening storm and I was feeling tired. I rang mum to let her know that Ben we'd returned home safely. Next I checked the messages and there was one which went something like this this:

"Hello this is Paul (Dillon and Mollie's scout leader) we're in hospital with Mollie, don't worry nothing is wrong but she's hurt her foot and needs an x-ray".

I had to wait until until midnight to hear that it does not appear to be broken but she is on crutches...again.

An open letter to Laurie

Dear Laurie

I have solved the riddle of where your flying ants have gone. They're safely ensconced behind my monitor. Please remove then immediately feel free to drop by and collect them anytime that suits you.

Thanks Beccy

An open letter to Marks and Spencer.

Dear Marks and Spencer

I was very excited to find myself invited on a three week holiday in France with my husbands family. The old farmhouse we were staying in was beautiful and had a big pool to lounge by. Just one tiny, weeny thing worried me a little, all my in-laws are tall, skinny and gorgeous so I was on a mission to find the perfect swimsuit. I started my mission back in February, I scoured all the shops and looked on the internet but found nothing. A month before I went I found a black costume that 'would do,' I wasn't happy with it but it was better than nothing, (seriously it was)!

Then two days before I departed for France I stumbled upon it, the perfect swimsuit in chocolate brown. I almost didn't try it on because it had padded breasts and I don't do padded breasts because my breasts don't need any padding and I always felt padded breasts were for older people (I think I'm still 21). Thankfully my friend Sally persuaded me to try it on and I looked drop dead gorgeous ok in it. I was so pleased I grabbed a matching sarong to go with it and with a hop, skip and a jump off I went on my holiday.

That first day at the pool I felt great, I knew it suited me. When I dived in everything stayed in place. I washed the costume out ready for the next day.

The next day we were off for a swim and I pulled my swimming costume back on and quickly checked in the mirror that I looked ok. I didn't look ok so I looked closely. Why was one breast all pointy and weird looking? After further investigation I discovered the padding had got all folded and however hard we tried it was not budging. So one breast was rounded and smooth and breast like whilst the other was half round, with bits sticking out and a huge square like point where a nipple should be. Joules tried to suggest that I could wear it and no one would notice but I am not that stupid. So my gorgeous, sexy, brown costume had to be put away and my old raggedy spare suit (which didn't match with the brown sarong) was dragged out of the bottom of the case (thankfully I had packed it) and worn daily.

I was very disappointed because I have bought lots of thing from your store and they are always well made. I will be visiting you next week to return the swimming costume for a full refund and if you'd like to offer me a free holiday to get over my disappointment I will graciously accept.

Yours sincerely

Beccy Breach.

10 reasons why it's hard to come home.

1) You leave behind temperatures of 31 oc in France and return to temperatures of 14 oc, mist and rain in Ireland.

2) You have no food in the house and it's 9pm.

3) Your car battery is completely dead.

4) Your jump leads are kaput.

5) Your battery recharger is a twisted heap of rust.

6) Your two youngest children have to be up early for school the next day, (well they have just missed three weeks and you don't want the Department of Education knocking on your door).

7) You then remember that your youngest child has a dentist appointment at 9.30am so you definitely need your car (not to mention the food shopping or else the family will starve).

8) You have to set the alarm for the first time in three weeks.

9) You wear socks and long sleeves therefore hiding your delicate tan.

10) You do a mammoth grocery shop because you don't know what you need and then have to find places to store everything whilst realising that you did have quite a lot of food and the freezer is full so where will you put the duck you just bought!

Postscript:

11) You have 643 emails to wade through!

Who'd vote for crooks?

Apparently the people of Ireland don't mind having a crook as their leader. I can't believe that Bertie Ahern has been voted in again after all his dodgy dealings which have come to light over the last year. If you want to read more about the result check here, but be warned this guy is funny yet not for the faint heated, his language is obscene and could cause offence. Guess what, the Minister for Education who gave funds to our school (and others) in the days before the election, she was voted back in as well...what a surprise...NOT.

Yesterday I asked if you could guess where we'd been before our trip to the waterfall. I think I misphrased this as many of you said the playground which is within the grounds of Powerscourt Waterfall and I had mentioned being there. No, the clue was in the photographs and Mum guessed it without knowing as she mentioned Ben's haircut but she missed Mollie's new bob. Mollie had about 3-4 inches cut off as she doesn't want to tie her hair up for school.

Election Fever

Today is election day here in Ireland. For the last month every available lamp post and telegraph pole has been adorned with posters of all the men and women who hope to be elected to the Dail (Irish Parliament). There have been very public slanging matches and televised debates and according to the media it is a very close race. As is the nature with politics things suddenly happen just before an election. Those of you who read about the measly donation the current government gave our school will recall how the parents were asked to fund the majority of the building work. On Tuesday representatives of the Minister of Education, who happens to be hoping to be elected in my area, came to the school and handed out letters detailing an increase in the amount to be funded by the government. Instead of the original €300,000 they promised they are now giving €763,000. This is more than double the original amount and means that the school only has to raise €387,000 (which it has already done through parental donations). Now I don't know about you but to me this stinks of a cunning plan: pay out at the last minute and we'll all be so relieved and pleased that we'll vote for the current Minister of Education. Well in this house it doesn't work like that!

Even though I am English I am allowed to vote in the General Election in Ireland as well as local elections. However I am not allowed to vote on Constitutional changes and referendums.

When free education doesn't mean free education.

Maybe I'm a bit thick but when you send your child to a state funded school I presumed that meant free. When I went to state funded school everything was provided from paper to text books to sports equipment. The only thing I had to bring with me was pencils, pens, ruler, rubber and sharpener.

Here in Ireland it seems to be very different. Firstly I have to purchase all the text books and copy (exercise) books. I have to pay the school a fee for each child to cover the cost of additional material such as photocopying and art equipment. I get asked to make a voluntary contribution of between €250 and €300 per child. If I choose not to pay this voluntary contribution I get a rather snotty letter pointing out that I have forgotten to pay said voluntary contribution and could I please pay voluntary contribution now. I also pay a sub to the Parents Association of my eldest child's school as well as locker fees.

Last Monday I received a letter from my youngest two children's school looking for between €1,000-€10,000 per family (180 families in the school) to finance building work. The government has agreed to fund €300,000 and the parents have to cough up the remaining €850,000. That is a lot of money for a relatively small school.

Oh and by the way they want the money by the 11th May and have arranged loans with a local bank just in case you don't have a few thousand euro in your pocket.

The brown stuff and the fan...

Wow, 20 comments on one picture, I wasn't expecting that but thanks for the kind and funny words you all made me laugh. A lot of you were right yesterday with the s**t hitting the fan, (sorry Mum). Yesterday was not a great day in terms of issues that involve the Parents Association in Mollie's and Ben's school, of which I am secretary. Unfortunately someone deemed it unnecessary to divulge important information to me before a meeting but instead to drop the clanger at the meeting knowing that this involved my child and I had already queried it happening and had been told on two occasions that it would not. Are you confused? I am but as this is a public blog with my name and face plastered all over it I don't want to be too personal (one earful is enough for me to take). Thank God for Witty Wednesday because I need a laugh.

Many thanks to John who keeps me well supplied with funny emails (maybe you should skip reading me on a Wednesday John because most of them come from you)!

I'm not sure who sent me the following but it makes me laugh every time I read it.

Of interest to those who seek and recruit staff.

Job : B & Q (a DIY store) JOB APPLICATION

This is an actual job application that a 75-year-old pensioner submitted to B&Q in Tunbridge Wells.

They hired him because he was so funny.....

NAME:
Kenneth Way (Grumpy Bastard)

SEX:
Not lately, but I am looking for the right woman (or at least one who will cooperate)

DESIRED POSITION:
Company's Chief Executive or Managing Director. But seriously, whatever's
available. If I was in a position to be picky, I wouldn't be applying in the first place - would I?

DESIRED SALARY:
£150,000 a year plus share options and a Tony Blair style redundancy package. If that's not possible, make an offer and we can haggle.

EDUCATION:
Yes.

LAST POSITION HELD:
Target for middle management hostility.

PREVIOUS SALARY:
A lot less than I'm worth.

MOST NOTABLE ACHIEVEMENT:
My incredible collection of stolen pens and post-it notes.

REASON FOR LEAVING:
It was a crap job.

HOURS AVAILABLE TO WORK:
Any.

PREFERRED HOURS:
1:30-3:30 p.m. Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday.

DO YOU HAVE ANY SPECIAL SKILLS?:
Yes, but they're better suited to a more intimate environment.

MAY WE CONTACT YOUR CURRENT EMPLOYER?:
If I had one, would I be here?

DO YOU HAVE ANY PHYSICAL CONDITIONS THAT WOULD PROHIBIT YOU FROM LIFTING UP TO 50 lbs.?:
Of what?

DO YOU HAVE A CAR?:
I think the more appropriate question here would be "Do you have a car that runs?"

HAVE YOU RECEIVED ANY SPECIAL AWARDS OR RECOGNITION?:
I may already be a winner of the Reader's Digest Timeshare Free Holiday Offer, so they tell me.

DO YOU SMOKE?:
On the job - no! On my breaks - yes!

WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE TO BE DOING IN FIVE YEARS?:
Living in the Bahamas with a fabulously wealthy Swedish supermodel with big tits and who thinks I'm the greatest thing since sliced bread.

Actually, I'd like to be doing that now.

NEAREST RELATIVE?:
7 miles

DO YOU CERTIFY THAT THE ABOVE IS TRUE AND COMPLETE TO THE BEST OF YOUR KNOWLEDGE?:
Oh yes, absolutely.

Some advice...

Mr Bean's Holiday.

Second row from the front.

Not recommended as a way to pass 90 minutes.

My debt is paid.

Why I hate gardening...and a joke!

The Spring cleaning bug has hit me big time, Monday was spent blitzing my sitting room from top to bottom and I'm ashamed to admit to finding a couple of Easter eggs that the Easter bunny hid last year (in my defence they were very well hidden inside a pot on the top shelf. Yesterday was the turn of the garden. I took all the bottles to the bottle bank and cleaned the patio, then I turned my attention to my neighbour hedges. We have a wall all around our garden and both sets of neighbors have hedges which grow up and over our wall. The first neighbour has ivy which was obstructing my washing line, growing over my walls and shed and making my garden feel really small (it's small enough anyway so doesn't need to be made any smaller)! Eight and a half bags of ivy later and that side of the garden is looking respectable. My other neighbour is an older lady living on her own so I always cut down the bush that grows wildly up and over our wall. Bear in mind that I do all the cutting by hand with a small pair of secateurs and you will understand why I was not happy last night. I finished about a third of her hedge and I have blisters on my fingers and thumb and a very sore back. I'm sitting here looking at the hedge on this beautiful sunny morning knowing I have to go out and finish what I've started. There is also my first neighbours hedge out the front which is growing over our front garden and blocking out light. By the time I have finished I think I will have about 25 bags of garden waste to dispose of (which I will have to pay for). So to recap I will have spent two days cutting down hedges that do not belong to me, hurting myself in the process and then I have to pay to get rid of the copious amounts of garden waste, no wonder I'm not a happy bunny.

On a lighter note to fit in with Mum's theme of Witty Wednesday here's a joke for you.

To Be Frank:

A man walks into the street and the rain, and immediately manages to hail a cruising taxi just about to pass by. He tells the driver his destination, gets into the taxi and the cabbie says "Perfect timing, just like Frank".
The man says "Who?"
Cabbie : "Frank Feldman. He's a guy that did everything right - all the time. Like I was passing, just as you came out of that building there. Things like that always happened to Frank Feldman"
Passenger : "Well there must be some clouds in everyone's life, surely?"
Cabbie : "Not with Frank Feldman! He was a great athlete too. Could have won a tennis Grand Slam, played golf with the pros, anything. He sang like Sinatra, danced like a Broadway star, and you should have heard him play the piano. Sensational! What a guy, eh?"
Passenger : "Sounds like he was someone really special, then"
Cabbie : "There's more. He had a memory like a computer. He'd remember everyone's birthday or anniversary. He knew all about dining out, which wines to order, which cutlery to use, all that stuff. And he could fix anything, he was an expert electrician, carpenter, plumber and so on. Me,
I change a fuse and it knocks out all the lighting in the street. Not Frank Feldman, he got everything right".
Passenger : "Wow, some guy then!"
Cabbie : "And he always knew the quickest way to get from A to B, avoiding traffic jams, not like me. I always seem to get stuck in them".
Passenger : "Mmmm. There aren't many like him around".
Cabbie : "And he really knew how to treat a woman and make her feel good. He would never answer her back, even when she was wrong. He was always immaculately dressed, too. Shoes always polished, clothes always exactly right for the occasion - he was just the perfect gentleman. Never made a mistake. Nobody could ever measure up to Frank Feldman".
Passenger : "An amazing fellow! How did you meet him?"
Cabbie : "Well, I never actually met Frank"
Passenger : "Well, how do you know so much about him, then?"
Cabbie : "Because I married his widow, that's how".

You know you're getting older when...

1) Your eldest child goes to his first gig, (My Chemical Romance).

2) Your eldest child goes to his second gig, (Enter Shikari).

3) You spend your evening sipping tea in a hotel bar whilst your eldest son is at his second gig.

4) You don't notice that a button has come undone on your top thus revealing your blue, sexy bra.

5) No one else notices that a button has come undone on your top thus revealing your blue, sexy bra.

Yesterday saw the start of a two week break from school for the children as it is the Easter Holidays. I went in search of fresh yeast to make these. The lady in the bakery explained that for reasons unknown to her they weren't allowed to sell fresh yeast but she would sell me some. She took my money and disappeared into the bakery to get the yeast. I was so excited at the thought of my homemade buns when the lady returned empty handed to explain that they'd run out of yeast and were waiting for a delivery. Hopefully I'll have time to return today and they will have plenty in stock!

On our way home, I was with Mollie, Ben and Mollie's friend Shauna, we stopped off at White Rock, the sun was shining and the children rolled up their trousers and played in the water whilst I sat enjoying the sun wishing I'd bought my camera. These photographs were taken with my phone hence the poor quality.

Do you believe?

Did I ever mention I was gullible. Gullible with a capital G. You tell me something and I'll believe it no matter how outrageous it was. When I met Joules and his gang of Irish friends at university they had great fun spinning the poor English girl (me) lines about anything and everything and I would say 'really', 'really', 'never', 'really'. Bearing in mind that this went on at the pub whilst copious amounts of alcohol was being drunk, they would nearly p**s themselves laughing while I'd tell them off for winding poor old me up. Then they'd say tell us what your sister did so I'd tell them again and again and again. At this point someone would end up on the floor, whether it was from laughing at me or due to the amount of pints being drunk I do not know.

When I was about 13 years old my sister (16 years) told me something ridiculous (I can't remember exactly what) and then laughed when I believed her. I retorted that she wasn't to wind me up because I was so gullible and that it wasn't fair. She replied that the word gullible was no longer a word and had been removed from the English Oxford dictionary. I was mortified because what word could I now use to explain my gullibleness now that gullible was no longer a word. Sam dined out on that for weeks!

Joules and Dillon have taken over the mantle from Sam, now that she resides the other side of the pond and they have many a laugh at the stupid things I fall for. It's a good job I'm not too sensitive or I'd have a complex by now!

Don't you just hate it when...

You pop into the supermarket to buy one vital ingredient for dinner.

You spend over €33 on items you suddenly realised were also vital.

When you make dinner you realise you forgot to purchase the one vital item but you have over €33 of non vital items!

Reply from Tesco

This was the response I recieved from Tesco after I emailed them asking them to read my open letter.

Dear Ms Breach

Thank you for your email addressed to Sir Terry Leahy, our Chief Executive. As Sir Terry is currently away from the office, I am responding on his behalf.

I was sorry to learn that you are unhappy with the service you received recently in one of our stores. Our aim is to offer the very best of service and it is most disappointing when a customer is unhappy with any aspect of our operations.

Unfortunately. we are unaware of the store concerned, as this has not been indicated in your email.

Therefore, we have not been given the opportunity to investigate your complaints and provide you with an proper explanation into these matters.

If you wish to write to Sir Terry Leahy, providing further information and your address details, I can assure you that you will receive a personal written response in due course, following an investigation into your concerns.

His address is:

Tesco House
Delamare Road
Cheshunt
Waltham Cross
Hertfordshire
EN8 9SL

If you have any further queries please do not hesitate to contact us at customer.service@tesco.co.uk quoting TES3098034X.

Kind Regards


H D
Tesco Customer Service Executive

My reply to Tesco's email.

Dear Ms D

Thank you for your response to my email, unfortunately I see from your reply that you failed to read the open letter I had written on my blog as I requested through the link I provided in my email. I respectfully suggest that you read this open letter entitled 'Open letter to the manager of Tesco Ballybrack'. As you see this blog entry included the name of the store therefore I saw no need to repeat the information.Here is the link again:
http://beccy-peppermint-tea.blogspot.com/2007/02/open-letter-to-manager-of-tesco-in.html.
I only added the other incidents to highlight the fact that the customer service provided by Tesco is less than one expects from a leading supermarket. It is disappointing to note that this response to my email shows that even the Tesco Customer Service Executive has failed the
customer. Is it any wonder the stores are severely lacking in customer service when members of their customer service team are unable to deal with a customer service query.

I shall write to Sir Terence Leahy with my concerns, including your failure to read all the information I enclosed but I would also like to know from you how you managed to miss the link and therefore the store name.

A very disillusioned customer