wendy house

(warning: long budgety scribble heavily influenced by Excel)

Money’s not yet too tight to mention, but the UK budget announcements on Wednesday may tip the balance for many people . The average UK salary is near £26,000 per annum. I’m lucky enough to earn more than average, a ‘middling’ salary that helps me support my 1st luxury of living alone in a house that demonstrates my detachment. My purchase-ability has been steadily dropping since returning to England in 2007. My expenses have also steadily dropped. I am lucky enough to be able to live within my means, and like most people, my means are systematically shrinking

Once my salary has gotten into my bank account this is approximately how it leaves:

50% on home mortgage and insurances

My 4th mortgage. Each home more gorgeous than the last. This upscaling is why, after 20 years, I still only own half of my home. Some friends  have repaid their mortgages because they’ve lived in one house for a long time. In Reading town I’m primarily paying a premium for living near a station with a 25 minute one-stop commuter ride to London. Spending this money is both a ‘basic’ because I need a home and a luxury because I could rent, or live further from London,  in a place that would only take 25% of my salary.  Being able to  choose to live here and invest in ‘property’ makes me feel like I am a rich person

6% on home services

Water rates, electricity, gas, council tax for local services like rubbish disposal, police etc

12% on home maintenance and improvements

Replacing broken equipment (e.g. washing machine) paying for plumbers, electricians, roofers, cleaning equipment,  painting equipment and plants

12% on transport

Being able to travel any way other than on foot feels like a luxury. My 2nd big luxury expense is tanking Thomas for petrol, insurance, servicing and parts. Some money goes on public transport for holiday journeys like my train ride down to St. Ives at Christmas

10% on health, food and appearance

Toast, marmite, tea, socks, pants, shampoo etc  The stuff that makes up most of my weekly shops

10% on entertainment, friends and family – mainly eating and drinking

YAY! My 3rd luxury – a fabulous regular expense that brings me a lot of happiness….

0% on savings

Um never really managed to save. I have managed to get ‘Savings’ this happened when I started jobs that paid ‘Bonuses‘ for good performance – in 2000. This amount is nothing like the size of Bankers bonus! Normally, It could cover the cost of an extra pint of beer a week.

Before my salary gets to my bank account a lot is deducted in tax and:

20% on pension

I got my first job after completing my PhD in 1991. Having missed years of making pension contributions, which meant I had some catching up to do. I started by contributing 15% of my salary to my pension in1991. As pensions have become less reliable and effective saving schemes, I’ve increased my contribution to 20%

What do you do? How do families with only one income cope?  How do couples use the extra income that joint expenses release?  How can families earning less than average income afford to provide for children?

How will the budget affect you?

Concerns have been expressed about my well-being during my annual vacation – the Barcelona bumptiousness tour. This note should reassure and exfoliate all concerned people by detailing  recently aquired safety equipment to use on that holidee spree:

Kids factor 50 sunscreen – because my skin’s so youthful

Norwegian moisturiser – because my skin has Scandinavian origins

Sandpaper – to strip the surface layer of skin

Getting ready for Barcelona in October. How? Buying a light-weight rain jacket and some comfy sandals! This year I’ve been lucky enough to get an annual bonus so I’ve indulged myself with:

1. Expensive “Ladies” Linen Barbour Jacket coated with a rough finish polyurethane. Essentailly a jacket that looks wet and has an over-priced classic British brand name. Almost Burberry. Does this make me a chav?
2. Cheap black leather Sketchers‘ “tone-up” sandals. The advertising bumf supplied by the manufacturer says that a clinical study (of 8 people) showed that there is significantly more muscle activity when walking in these compared to normal sandals. That activity will make my bum firmer. Well, there’s fancy foot-technology for you! If the previous purchase hasn’t qualified me as a chav, surely this one will?

These summer purchases will compliment my Ray Bans which are itching to be put in my Tumi Barcelona carry-on bag beside my elderly Animal washkit

If I haven’t already, I’m about to crash through the cusp of chavy. That’s the equivalent of Concorde breaking the sound barrier, only for Brand purchasing

Yeah Baby!

Visitors to earth from planet Wendy see the marketing of high healed shoes as institutionalised violence, targeting females. For some inexplicable reason hobbling, the risk of broken ankles, is an attractive female characteristic.

Women are the only exploited group in history to have been idealized into powerlessness.

Erica Jong

The majority of females are complicit in perpetuating this violence. Visitors from planet Wendy are baffled by this complicity. Visitors keep their befuddlement under their stylish hats lest they cause offense, identifying themselves as targets for the near ubiquitous, rigorous enforcement regime.

What shoes should I wear to demonstrate my lack of complicity without attracting non-compliance social penalties?  My tastes rarely coincide with high street fashion. My criteria for yesterday’s shoe purchase trip, in priority order, were

• must not introduce a risk of bodily injury when walking – I can fall over without artificial aides.
• comfortable – definitely bouncy soles and soft uppers
• can be worn to walk 4 miles per day on sidewalks and in buildings
• please or amuse members of the public, work colleagues and clients when I wear them to work
• give the impression that I’ve dressed-up a bit for a trip to the Theatre, Garden or Dinner party
• colour should sort-of go with some of the clothes I already own. A fairly open criteria favouring blue, black, grey, brown, white and orange.

I’ve wanted a pair of red shiny, low-heal, soft soled shoes ever since I first read the Wizard of Oz. This pair of Kansas hoppers closed the deal in the time it took to try them on. I only visted 2 shops, RESULT!  All my criteria filled and MORE!

Waiting decades before finally meeting these shoes adds a special relish to our union

Unwrap the Edam, the cheese is on me!

Optical Express said they could replace the lenses in my ski-chic wrap-around graduated-grey tint,  reflective Ray Bans for a reasonable price. Hooray. Phew! I was thrilled at being able to get the lenses replaced in my favourite glasses.

That’s the highlight of the story over. It’s downhill from here on in, though luckily no broken bones.

3 frowns: Ratings explained

The following summary actually omits many of the details that added to the paucity of my experience. I made 4 trips to pick up my glasses, each time and transport:

1. Optical Express explained that their ‘labs’ no longer had the specialist equipment so the glasses had been sent to another lab and I’d have to come back next week
2. On this visit they made me wait in line, did not know what had happened even after checking their computers to find that my glasses work had been put ‘on hold’. The labs were not answering the phone so they suggested that I come back next week,  when they knew more, Sigh
3. This visit they explained that actually they could not fit new lenses in my current frames, but they could give me 5%  (about £6.00) on a different, new, set of Ray Ban frames. This discount amounted to less than my cumulative busfares for the previous trips to pick up the glasses. I turned down the measley offer, explaining why, and asked for my glasses back saying I would go elsewhere. This prompted them to offer 50% off a new frame (£60) which I rashly accepted, and selected a Holly Golightly pair of Ray Bans
4. Finally picked up my old glasses, without new lenses, and new glasses with new lenses. New lenses were scratched. How poor is that? I gave-up and walked out

It seems that British optical laboratories provide customers with substantially fewer lens treatment and fitting services than those in the USA (tint colours, coatings). Opticians prefer to sell you a whole new pair of glasses than try and replace lenses in existing frames. Even more sadly, Optical Express lead me to believe they could supply a service that they could not, then compounded this by substandard service. I’ll be going elsewhere to replace the lenses in my other glasses.

Generally rather disappointing

Two men from John Lewis’ electricals (JLE) arrived to take away my defuncted Indesit and replace it with a magnificent miele. Miele’s company slogan is ‘Forever Better’ they build products to last and provide better user experiences. They pass-on the cost of achieving this goal to their customers.  I’d rather not have to replace a washing machine several times in a decade. This machine should last me several decades. Awesome!

The men from JLE  looked at the old Indesit which came with the house 3 years ago. Audible tutting noises….

JLE: its not disconnected. We can’t do anything until its disconnected. I’ll go away and come back in 10 minutes, that should give you time to disconnect it

wendy: Oh, I thought you guys would do that as part of the removal and deliver

JLE: Oh no, that’s a whole different service, that’s installation, we haven’t been instructed to install your machine, you’ll have to do that

wendy: ashame, if the sales-process had offered me disconnection and installation I would probably have bought it

I pull the washing machine out from under the kitchen counter, turn the valves on the hot and cold water supplied to the off position, disconnect the supplies, remove the water-outlet pipe and unplug the machine from the power source. Easy. Didn’t need to pay someone to do that, I’m glad John Lewis’s didn’t sell me that service.

JLE: remember to remove the transport bars before you use it.  If you don’t remove the bars it will break the machine

wendy: transport bars? what are they, where are they? are there any instructions?

JLE: just read the manual miss, its all in the manual, do what it says in the manual

After loading the Indesit onto their trolley, both removal men washed thier hands it my fabulous butler sink. The transport bars hold the drum in place while the machine is being moved. The instructions were clear and easy to follow, within 5 minutes my Miele was connected to power, water supply, water removal pipe and ready to go.  Awesome.

The handbook had lots of user instructions

Did I read them? Did I?

Not yet

The washing machine finally gave up the ghost, died

It was a graceful departure, no explosions or fires, no flood, it didn’t take-out any other appliances on its way down, no uncertainty about the end

I was able to work out how to remove the half washed laundry and finish the job by hand. Hand washing and rediscovering the world of the laundrette until I can arrange a replacement

(warning: gratuitous gushing)

Isn’t the internet fabulous? Within 4 hours of the washing machine biting the dust I had read multiple product reviews and store-supply and support reviews, selected a new washing machine, measured-up the space to check it fitted, purchased and booked delivery of the new machine and removal of the old machine. Before the internet this activity would have taken days, carefully fitted in around work and ivolved trips to multiple stores. How easy it is to do the research and find the right solution from the comfort of your connected home – NOW. I love how the internet has changed my life

(gratuitous gushing over)

Miss interpretting and spelling written words is one of my innate talents. Context, together with how the word sounds in my head normally helps me get things right

Sometimes I use the wrong context. Here in the fabulous Jackson’s I was thinking about ‘Austerity’ when I read this sign. I read Boys School Uniform Debt and assumed it was some form of financing offer to help parents avoid getting into dept when buying school uniforms for their boys.

It sounded plausible to me….

Nestled amongst the pound stores, opticians, charity shops, and estate agents of Friar Street is the CMart.

CMart – a store full of Chinese goodies. Without subtitles.

No subtitles!

While standing in the check-out line holding some packages with very enticing pictures 2 fellows behind me got very animated in what is possibly Chinese. I smiled at them and they explained in broken English that the package they were holding came from Bejing. The check-out chap smiled, I smiled, a first class purchase experience, even though I’m not sure what I bought.

I’ll be back for more happy customer and staff ambience.

PS 100 word post before the PS

Recently our multi-talented office manager ordered 2 boxes of pens. With every delivery of 2 boxes of pens Staples gives you, gratis, for free,  2 square foot of space.

The pens and space arrived in this fabulous brown box. The much needed space has been added to the side of my desk so that people can stop-by and chat without being hit by the spontaneous, unpredictable and sudden door-opening activities of other exuberant-corridor-wandering colleagues.

Why I love England #15:  ‘peeling church bells

Seattle Sunday and Saturday felt interchangeable. The main percievable difference was that Saturday night heralded a sleep-in while Sunday night heralded the start of the working week. Saturday and Sunday were both filled with open, buzzing, malls, bowling alleys, ski-slopes and roads. Returning to England returned my beautiful Sundays.

English Sundays start well with a warm, naturally slow, awakening. Things just keep getting better from there. Whether sunshine, rain, fog, drizzle… going out in it or staying in, the choice is mine and the doing is free from shopping. Then comes the distant peal of church bells. Sunday gives time to be with beautiful people; to do nothing or something. Perhaps a spot of painting, a walk in the park, pull weeds from the garden, talk, listen.

On colder days a log fire fills the house with the gentle scent of warm woodsmoke, the clicking of the Stove as it warms, the sparking of logs and roaring of flames.  Lashings of tea, Sunday lunch followed by lashings more tea.

An evening amble to a pub quiz, real ale, laughter, debates and arguments in the company of friends.

Sunday draws to a close with me all wrapped up in sweet smell of fresh laundry and crisp, silence, of the white cotton sheets. They engulf me as I contentedly fall into deep sleep.

Back in the 1990’s I had developed a strong brand loyalty to Sloggi because they produced comfortable, outdoor activity sypporting, stylish, white, underwear.  Sloggi underwear wasn’t cheap but it lasted, it maintained it’s strength and looks.  Sloggi products were sold in  good department stores, the quality town stores.  Stores like Reading town’s Jackson’s.  I had no problem finding Sloggi underwear on the rare occasion I needed to purchase new stuff.

When I lived in the NW US, the quality department stores such as Nordstrum didn’t sell Sloggi.  In a recklessly adveturess streak I branched out into local underwear brands, Victoria Secrets. Nothing special, mass produced femininity. My underwear draw went pink and everso slightly twee.

In Tiverton I picked up my first Sloggi’s since 2000.  They feel and look good.  Back to my favourite high quality foundations…

In Reading town its Jacksons

In Tiverton town its Banbury’s

A family run store, named after the family.  Selling everything in tiny departments on split-level floors arranged with a maze-like series of turns and staircases. These stores are Tardis-like, seeming small from the outside then corridor after staircase after turn they get larger and larger.  The staff are normally experienced people with well structured hairstyles or quirky youngters. All are personable.  When leaving the Wendy house this morning I was in the middle of scat-fest.  Things I forgot to bring with my included, pants, watch,  tops to wear.  Banbury’s was just the place to temporarily solve my foundation garment shortage

While searching for the cleverly hidden underware department I stumbles across a Linen top with a print reminiscent of the fabulous Finnish Marimekko Unnikko print.  Yummy.

In less than 2 minutes I’d fallen deeply in love with a youngster, he must be all of 30yrs.  His name badge says Glen. A good name, other members of the wendy house family are called Glen, but that wont cause a problem.  Glen can solve problems.

He smiles, talks sense, makes constructive left of field suggestion, shows me diagrams, puts different phones in my hand while he uses a real pen to do some quick maths on a sheet of paper. He compares the prices of different solutions for me.  I’m totally hooked.  After this brief and productive conversation, this performance, we make a date for next Saturday. I bounce out of car phone warehouse with an abundance of teeth reflecting the hot glow of the summer sunshine.  Maybe I should propose on Saturday.  Before or after I’ve purchased something, what’s the ettiquette?

 Well done Reading town’s carphone warehouse, your staff recruitment strategy is excellent.  Looks like I’ll be dropping my service relationships with t-mobile, Orange, and BT all in one go for the ‘TalkTalk’ service that some of the Wendy House family are already using.  Hoorah

Thankyou to Happy Frog’s friend for pointing me to the carphone warehouse

spotty dog: Nice jacket, Jack Wills?
wendy: yes, when I got back from the US I felt an overwhelming need to wear something fabulously british, this looked like a boating jacket
spotty dog: but you haven’t worn it since we arrived
wendy: its too hot in Italy, I’ll be fabulously British when we get back home

In the Bath  habitat store I followed a child that could barely immitate being able to walk and her mother on their way  up the stairs to the kitchen furniture section

mother: maybe the man with the beard is up here…

mother: shall we ask this lady where we can find the man with the beard…

Would you stop by for a cup of tea with the person who’s Saturday shopping trip included

• cat food and litter
• a large axe
• soda crystals
• the axe is still quite large
• WD 40
• that axe has a handle for swinging
• long handled matches
• the axe has a blade protector
• lavendar shampoo
• the axe is in the corner of the front room, for the moment

A  birdbath, not fit for purpose.   Purchased at Wyevale garden centres in November, showed cracks in December, fell apart in Januray, returned to Wyevale in February.

After patient waiting for, gently assertive haggling with,  Wyevale staff.   They eventially raised their offer from nothing  because I was returning it  ’outside the 28 day return period ‘ to  a paltry  refund of the current sale, half the original, price in vouchers.  I settled believing  this pathetic show did less than Wyevale is  required to do by law and very glad to get away from them.

Wyevale - not recommended for garden furniture.

In the foyer of Reading’s downtown  homebase an Owl collects donations for a rescue and sanctuary.   Big, beautiful, fluffy owl with efficient looking talons.   The handler talks about giving young criminals lessons in how to look after owls.   How this  skill and responsibility enables them to develop self esteem and respect for others

Spoilt for choice in a local antiques shop

Picking a plain wrought iron poker for the to-be-installed over-hyphenated wood-burning stove

Breathing-in was required to walk between the goodies.    The tiny antiques shop brimmed with lovely practical gadgets. It was like walking through a museum store room. There were leather straps for sharpening razors, there were  copper kettles and iron flat irons. I was lucky to get out of the shop having bought only a poker

My self-control can be utterly astounding

Paul from warm interiors popped round to look at the Wendy House’s wooden roof  beams.   When the fireplace is opened-up to install the woodburning stove Paul  will be making a fireplace opening lintel from oak to match the roof beams.  The lintel will have bolts and hooks like the original (circa 1845) beams.   Excitement levels are on their way up in the Wendy House.

Cas:   hello Dr. Wendy

Wendy: Wow, I’m impressed that you remembered me and that I’m a Dr!

Cas explained the differences between multifuel and wood burning stoves as she pulled together a costing for converting my fireplace (gas fire).  

Paul:  you’ve over-estimated the cost of the chimney liner, knock 20 feet of the height, Wendy lives in the cottage

 Wendy: you even remember where I live!

Paul: and we put the fireplace in there about  7 years ago for the last owner.   We’ve done most of the fireplaces round here, we’ve been here for 20 years.

Cas handed me lots of manufacturers brochures to help me choose a stove and I bounced out into the wet snowless winter weather.

There is a national shortage of kitty litter.  

The National press are conspiring to supress this story.  Some regional press are sneaking out reports. The Burton press managed  this excerpt:

Tesco, on St Peter’s Bridge, sold out of cat litter on Thursday as customers grabbed supplies to use as a handy and effective substitute for gritting salt. Sales have rocketed by 70 per cent in a week.

The East anglia times noted panic purchase of pussy essentials

Customers at Tesco stores in Kesgrave and Martlesham are reporting a shortage of eggs, bread and milk, while there was also word of rapidly emptying shelves at Sainsbury’s in Warren Heath.   Anti-freeze products, boots and thermal underwear have also proved popular, alongside a surprise best-seller – cat litter.

Local councils are running out of grit for the roads so private citizens are stepping-up to fill the void left by the hording and abusing of  the litter of the cat.   This reduces supplies for normal cat toilet abilities.   There could be unanticipated consequences.

Your eyewitness, on the spot, roving reporter  [ME!]  is out and about interviewing the kitties that matter, those  suffering from this very shortage.

In this revealing interview footage we listen to

• a vey frustrated, unlittered cat
• icicles melting
• the police sirens as they chase people deliberately over-purchasing kitty litter for elicit purposes

Matrix has difficulty walking on the snow and fails to find an acceptable toilet.     Her experience is similar to that of many of the UKs mainly outdoor kitties.  

What will happen next?  

How can I improvise when my stocks run out and my indoor kitties refuse to conduct their ablutions in the snow. OH!

Perhaps I was a bit premature with the melting snow post.

Thomas has been buried alive.

I’ve cunningly avoided yet another Gym subscription nightmare by resorting to digging out the Wendy House garden path.

After 24 hours of snow, 30cm in my back garden, the local shops are suffering from depleted stocks.      People who when stranded at home must have a steady supply of toast, ideally spread with marmite, are buying thier bread.  No new deliveries.   You do the maths…

Toastie!

Will I have to compromise the purity of my toast by taking my marmite on toasted teacakes? Tonight I’m planning to pop around my perky, yet elderly, neighbour’s house to…

…share some seasonal bubbly – more toastie!

…and snow stories in front of a glowing fireplace – even more  toastie!

then I’ll take their food order round to the corner shop where I’ll

battle for some buns.

With the quick approach of my HOLIDAY to CAIRO I skipped out  in search of some Holiday reading. Normally I pop into the tiny yet beautiful Reading Oxfam.   The friendly staff and customers chat, the book choice is excellent,  always something to inspire and entice.

One of my friends has recently moved to Cairo and made a specific request for a copy of the Lonely Planet guide to Egypt.   Alas, the local Oxfam cold not deliver

A short walk to the Waterstones chain, a small Victorian style shop front.   Inside the store is like the TARDIS   it goes backwards and upwards,   from house to house with glass roofs between.   The store is architecturally beautifully designed and maintains unusual features such as  the mezannine floor pictured below

Once I stopped looking at the architecture and started looking at book shelves   I was lost with no idea of where  the ‘Travel’  section might be.   Looking at the labeling on the shelves only tells you what is here,   not where something that is elsewhere might be.   Unperturbed I wandered over to the foot of the stairs (both of them)  expecting to find a list of the sections on each floor.   Nothing.

The  front door did not offer a guide to the store store layout with the sections identified.     The cash and information desk by the door was being stormed by an outsized  orderly  queue of people.   Glancing  back into  the huge store I felt a little overwhelmed and wandered in looking at shelf labels and the people nearby,   which are the staff who might help me?   Before full panic could set-in, eye contact with a lady….

Lady: Can I help you?

Wendy:   Do you have a map of the store layout?

Lady: What section would you like?

Wendy:   Is there a display showing where the sections are?

Lady:   No,   I’m working on that,  what section would you like?

Wendy: Travel

Lady: upstairs ahead through the arch,   on the right hand wall arranged in alphabetical order by country

Wendy: Thank you,  love the display thing you’re working on

Mumzie drives to another town to pick-up the only Rye crisp-bread that Dad considers to be like real Finnish Rye bread.

The myriad of  quirky little things my parents do for each other shows they are still in love, 52 years after getting married.

As they strode towards each other through the bed warehouse John’s baritone reassured the young besuited sales assistant

I’m looking for a bed
me too! Sarah’s soprano sang,   John stopped, turned to face her
Are you? his slight Oklahoma drawl,   playfully suggesting a challenge
No,  I’m looking for YER bed misser Sarah tilted her head and  flashed her lashes to take up the challenge. John blushed with a hint of a smile before turning back to the sales assistant.  

The technical bed-purchasing discussions didn’t interest Sarah.    From across the warehous she interrupted their conversation to ask the sales assistant If I takes me shoes off can I jump on yer beds… …to test em out like? the young besuited assistant nodded.  

Sarah kicked of her pumps, leapt onto the nearest bed then launched from bed to bed across the store finally  stopping by John who was lying on his back.  His body barely moved as she landed beside him. His eyes were closed,  his fingers woven together across his chest. If she hadn’t known he was testing sleep she might have thought him dead. Sarah gently kissed Johns serene forehead.    

Are you dead? Can I wake the dead?! Sarah started trampolining by John’s side.   With a slow deliberate move he swung his arms round her legs and draggged them to the foot of the bed.   She fell neatly  in a giggling bundle beside him.

“I think this one will do,   don’t you?” he said to the sales assistant while holding Sarah’s gaze.

No-one ever told me that when in  a jewelry shop you must browse quietly.    Myself and the other jewelry shop browsers abide by this unspoken rule.    The churchlike atmosphere is dull, unlike the jewelry.    A spritely looking elderly gent stands  in the doorway of the store and shouts across the shop to the lady behind the counter

Have you got any bright shiny things luv?

With the internet I can just type the name, make, model, serial-number and colour of my preferred bra  and get an  exact purchasable match in less than one minute.   Excellent,   underwear wooshing its way to the Wendy House.   All is well

 Then

The Royal Mail left me a little note to let me know that my ‘package’ was too big to fit through my letterbox.   Not being a larger lady in the underwear department this was a baffling concept.   This meant a trip to the Reading central post-office on Satruday morning during peak Reading shopping traffic congestion.   While listening to Jonathon Ross interview Spandau Ballet I noticed a shop with hand-crafted wood furniture in the window

Dangerous

An hour later I had picked-up my new underwear, removed the ridiculously bulky packaging and bought a hand made ‘gun cupboard’ for my mug collection

Expensive underwear

In different Falmouth stores  Spotty dog and I simultaneously whipped out our new-fangled plastic cards to pay for lovely pressies.   Much to our suprise these words greeted us:

“we don’t take cards here, cash and cheques only’    

Neither of us use cheque-books.   We trundled off on a quest for  cash-points,     only to find that Brett couldn’t help us and we couldn’t have called him for help even if we had his number.   Tricky.