…get my goat.
Not the wild wild west type cowboy mind you. I mean the dodgy, no good, thievin’, shaft-your-ass-quicker-than-they’d-look-atchu type cowboys. The ones that ‘build’ your extensions, ‘pave’ your drives and basically try and rob you blind.
My parents have had a fair few encounters with these shifty characters but are gradually learning to be a lot less trusting and much less willing to part with their hard earned cash (dare I mention the ‘r’ word).
That said, living in an estate full of houses constantly been extended this way and that has not been easy on my house proud mother. She’s watched sombrely as our cosy semi-d has shrunk in between the ever growing masses. In an effort to spruce up the house a wee bit, and keep up with the Jones, she decided to get the drive done in that nice road stone that adorns 90% of the estate’s drives. The neighbours in the castle next door had just had theirs done and when the company in question approached our door for business, a deal was struck.
They started digging the drive two days ago, and all seemed well and good. Then yesterday afternoon, the mammy returned home from work to behold an array of discoloured, chipped and battered looking stones most definitely not in the pattern she had requested. In fact, no pattern at all really. Lovely.
This morning, she questioned one of the men who told her “that’s the way they come missus, there’s nothing we can do about it”. Ree-donkulous. She might as well have been talking to one of the stones themselves. After a call to the makers of said stones, she was informed that if any of the tiles were broken, the company could bring them back and replace them at no cost. This means that basically, our pavers were being lazy f*ckers and hoping that we wouldn’t notice that half the drive was in bits because they couldn’t be arsed getting new stones. And they had ignored the design request because that would require putting a bit of actual thought and effort in to the job.
I understand that it’s only a driveway – more people have had far worse things done to their houses, our own included, for a lot more money. But for someone to try to pull the wool over your eyes, when the shoddy results are blatant for all to see, annoys the bejaysus out of me. It’s insulting.
The BBC used to broadcast a programme where they used hidden cameras to nab numerous shady companies. Its name has completely sailed out of my head but I remember watching it with glee as the culprits finally got their comeuppance. It’s definitely something I’d like to see on Irish TV.
However, in times of the ‘r’ word, can they now afford to lose potential customers through bad word of mouth? When people are getting tighter on the purse strings, maybe hidden cameras won’t be needed in a business that relies hugely on customer recommendations. Optimistic much?
Original is here.
Now you see Albert Einstein…..
Walk 15 feet away from the computer (or squint very very hard) and you’ll see someone else altogether…
(I’m easily impressed.)
I’m so behind the times these days.
Whilst everyone was packing into the cinemas yesterday to see The Dark Knight, I finally got off my bum to see Wall-E. And how glad was I? Even the short film Presto at the start was delightful.
I’ve had a good run in the cinema lately, walking out grinning from ear to ear from Mamma Mia and now Wall-E. I doubt the Dark Knight will inspire such a cheesy grin but hopefully, and most likely, I’ll be raving about it just as much as the others.
I love Gnarls Barkley’s videos and their new one, Who’s Gonna Save my Soul Now, is even better:
A lovely chapped named Dimitri leaves a rather amazing voicemail for Olga….
I wonder why she didn’t return his call?
EDIT: Ahhh here’s the back story about Dimitri…
…. you’ve taken over my brain again. Ever since seeing Mamma Mia! (da movie) I can. not. get. them. out. of. my. head. It’s made me very unpopular with my non-Swede-loving friends. I even contemplated asking the DJ in Andrews Lane Theatre on Saturday to play an oul tune, if only I could’ve reached the bloody box.
My mammy raised me on ABBA. So much so that when I was homesick at the Gaeltacht when I was only a nipper, she sent me down an ABBA tape to cheer me up. NERD.
In tribute to their taking over my life again, I’d like to play a few of my old favourites:
Name of the game:
Does your mother know:
The winner takes it all (makes me bawl like a baby – especially Meryl’s version, whatta ledge.)
Aaaaannd OF COURSE:
Special mentions go to Waterloo, Slipping through my fingers, Fernando, Mamma Mia, Take a Chance, I have a dream, I do I do I do I do I dooooooooooo. Love ’em all really.
EDIT: Just found this really nice cover of Angel Eyes by the Czars that I had to stick in. Gorgeous.
PS. I disappeared off the blogosphere for a bit there sorry. Time flies when you’re not having fun, being ill and working lots.
Normal service will resume as of now! (if there’s anybody still out there……… )