I'm sitting down with my first beer after a good days work; I saw two jobs for quotes and finished a couple of ongoing and started three small ones.
The phone goes and one of my customers tells me the communal front door has been kicked in, again. Now, I've repaired this four times already. So I put my beer down, don't worry it was only a sip, and go and fix the lock. By doing this I miss putting my daughter to bed.
So, I'm thinking this is a good customer, go the extra mile, etc...
Same sort of day, jobbing around, getting stuff done. This time it's before I get home. I have to go back to the same place to repair the same lock because the same fucking wanker, who has keys, has kicked the door in again. So, about 3 hours later I get home. Again I miss putting my daughter to bed.
Now I have to get on with some quotes, invoices and general admin that I should have been doing whilst repairing the door.
Lots of noise outside and a big bang. I get up from my computer desk to have a look out the window. My car is across the pavement and has knocked a gatepost over into a taxi parked.
My car is an old Golf, it's not worth stealing and its crap to drive but these fuckwits want it anyway.
I now have three police cars round the scene and spend the next hour sorting this out.
Now I am Officially Fucked Off.
The most I can say is I haven't had to deal with the actions of people who don't give a flying fuck about the cost of what they do.
Hopefully the rest of the week will be ok; we had such a great weekend with family and friends camping and it seems like such a long time ago.
Wednesday, 18 June 2008
Tuesday, 10 June 2008
The first thing I tend to notice when I get to France is how bloody big the place is; then how nice it is to drive on roads that are not populated by psychotic maniacs that just have to overtake you on a blind corner to get to the red light 200 meters ahead.
Then of course the people are a lot more friendly, you can't go to the baker without a chorus of "Bonjour" from all you see.
The towns seem to have an inherent pride in themselves; they are clean and tidy, the flower beds are kept well and properties are generally in good repair.
The primary thing you notice is that the whole country is family orientated. By that I mean you can go pretty much anywhere you want with kids and not be either turfed out at 7pm or looked at like you have an extra head.
We visited a place called Dead Man's Corner; if you have watched Band of Brother's you may of heard of it.
It put faces to the names in that series; there was equipment, letters and memorabilia to see along with the personal stories.
After that we went to look at Ohmaha beach. I can not imagine how terrifying it would have been to land there.
However, what it really brings home to you is that no matter what we think of the administration in the USA we owe the average Joe of America a huge amount.
Now we've been in France for about a week and we still can't figure out that the restaurants will be closed in the afternoon and the shops aren't open all day.
Eating cheese and ham baguettes in supermarket car parks was our main form of eating out on this holiday.
So by now we are having the ' I'm looking forward to going home' thoughts. There is just something about going home that is as appealing as going on holiday.
The Englishman and his castle? I don't know.
Is it because when you are abroad everything seems to be done better?
I think it's just that smell of your own house when you get in, being able to walk around in the pitch dark without falling down the stairs, knowing where everything is, but best of all the look on your daughter's face when she can sleep in her own bed and not in that goddamn tent.