Off my Trolley

My car is currently being worked on for its MOT test. The yearly doom, that is more 'how much it will fail on' rather than, 'will it pass'. I have therefore been without transport for over a week. The irony is, that this time last year, I had three cars. This was more through circumstance than being ostentatious. As time has gone on and finances have determined, I've sold off the other two. If I lived in the city, it may not be such an issue, where I am, is about a three mile walk to a bus stop. Inevitably, I got to the point of running out of milk and other provisions. Kindly my neighbour lent me her car today, to go to the supermarket to stock up.

Being self employed, and probably more importantly, single with no kids, I'm used to going shopping when I want. That is often following my DJ work in the early hours of a Sunday morning. More often than not, it will be an evening or a weekday. Certainly never a Saturday afternoon. Today might have been particularly bad being Halloween weekend, I do not know but it was sheer hell.

I normally quite like grocery shopping. Perhaps that's strange for a guy. I do like comparing prices and get an enormous sense of satisfaction if I have got bargains. True bargains, not the ones where shops now trick you with a big display of something pretending to be on offer, when it was actually cheaper last week. I certainly will not grab the first thing off the shelf, preferring to compare the price of another brand, or delving to the back of the shelf for a longer 'use by' date. I have no hesitation in buying a reduced item if I can incorporate it into that night's meal or freeze it. I regard my approach as more common sense than anal retentive. I do impulse buy too, justifying the fresh cookies snatched from the shelf, against the half priced fish grabbed earlier. Today, I did not enjoy my experience one bit.

First, I needed a trolley. Usually during busy times, I can skip (not literally) through the store with only a basket. Unfortunately, I needed all the big heavy stuff: Potatoes, Coke, Milk, Tinned goods. I could take a large unwieldy trolley, or a small one. Dipping into my wallet for a pound coin, the small ones are apparently more sought after than the big ones, I discovered two Two pound coins, some notes and small change to the value of just over one pound! Entering the store muttering to myself, I nearly tripped over the impromptu fireworks display stand and was confronted with a massive queue for the kiosk. Of course, how could I forget, Saturday night is Lottery night. Obviously the rest of the week, or for that matter, the ability to play easily online, escapes most. Spotting a woman at the customer services desk, then throwing a guilty glance towards the queue for all her colleagues, I approached clutching a Two pound. Armed with two One pound coins, I ventured back outside to gather a trolley. Negotiating a mother trying to locate an unwilling, and vocally so, small child into the seat of another trolley, I pushed in my coin and headed back inside.
After, this time, succeeding in colliding with the oversized cardboard display by the fireworks, I was able to start negotiating my way through the shop.

The lottery queue was now clashing with the 'pumpkin browsing' section and forming an effective barrier. Politely, although nearly knee-capping an errant child, who had obviously had far too much sugar to be going out tonight collecting even more sweets, may lie on the boundaries of politeness. Had I meant to, I would have made galvanised steel connect with hyperactive brat. That was not today's mission. I tried several approaches through the aisles: Steering straight at people was certainly the most effective but I'm far too courteous for my own good, preferring to hang back to allow oncoming traffic. Quite a few did thank me. If there is something that really gets me, it is allowing someone through and them pointing nose to sky as if it were their right. In those cases, a publicly audible "Thank you would have been nice" or "You're very WELCOME!" does the trick nicely. I tried abandoning the trolley to delve down particularly congested aisles. Feeling like a ninja, bending my hips around trolleys either side of me, stooping low to duck under a browser concentrating their arms on upper shelves.
Imagine you are driving down a road, two truck drivers have recognised one another from way back. In order to talk, they draw up alongside each other on a main arterial road to have a fifteen minute conversation. While I’ve seen bus drivers try this stunt, and then only until traffic builds up behind one before they move off. Why not, we allow everyone to do this on our roads? If I see someone in a supermarket and begin chatting, we will move off to one side, call it ‘pulling into the verge’ if you will. Why is it acceptable to have two people, full sized trolleys, spouse and children magnetically hovering right beside each one, making passing impossible? An “Excuse me please” is often met with the same derisory stare one might otherwise expect if you had just tried to push in front of them in a queue. Surely I cannot be the only one, who secretly wishes I had paramilitary weaponry while shopping. Some well aimed rocket propelled grenades would make the experience so much more enjoyable. I’m wondering if the fireworks stand can help me out on that one.

If the fellow shoppers were not bad enough, the tannoy announcements put the icing on the Halloween cake. Someone in marketing must have thought it a great idea, for the announcements to all be done in a cackling witchy voice. I’ve heard plenty staff in that store who could easlily have auditioned for the job with their normal voice. Previously wincing at the skirl of “Queueeee Busterzz ti checkouts please, Queue BusTEERS tae checkOOTS!” These announcements opened a whole new realm of ear bleeding utterances. Over acted cackling laughter following every mention of a product, repeated on every five minutes.
Finally, with a trolley full of the essentials, I made my way to the packed checkout lanes. The self service was not an option, as I had far too many booby-trapped items that would likely trigger the over sensitive mechanisms to tell me I had not bagged an item, when in fact, I had merely moved the box of eggs in the bag to save their impending doom from another item. I began loading my goods onto the conveyor, quickly realising the assistant wanted to ‘help’ by bagging my items. Help is always appreciated. Putting raw packs of chicken in with an open packed half baguette is not. As soon as all my stuff was on the belt, I hurried to re bag the mismatched provisions. “Be careful with those eggs” she politely said, whilst shoving a bag of potatoes on a collision course from scanner to bagging area. I paid with my card, as she helpfully forced stray (fragile) items into existing bags. Everything now back in the trolley, I exited the store, giving the fireworks a wide berth, while this time on a collision course with a family of five.

Out in the car park, I gave myself a shake to remember it was not my car I was looking for. Locating my neighbour’s car, I brought the trolley through a vacant car space close up and loaded up. Ready to return the trolley and get my pound back, I now noticed a car had boxed in the escape route for my trolley. With other cars badly parked over white lines, I contemplated lifting the entire trolley to get it out. I then noticed the newly parked had had seen my predicament and was reversing back out to give me space. He was a driving instructor, going by the big plastic pyramid on the car’s roof. I thanked him with a wave, put away the trolley and walked back to the car as he was exiting his. I made a point of thanking him verbally this time. I assume he was going in to do shopping too, rather than offering remedial training in trolley use, aisle positioning and general courtesy.

Sticking Point

How hard can it be to stick the letters E, M and S on the side window of a car? Probably in anyone's normal world, incredibly straightforward. It is purely letters, no fancy artwork, no shape to match up exactly against the margins of the glass. That was the case with the window tints, fitted for security rather than vanity or any "boy racer fashion"
I am socially patient, I have the presence to remain calm while teaching someone to drive. Otherwise I would not have gone halfway through instructor training. I can stand in a queue without my brain exploding in frustration of not getting anywhere fast. Many other aspects of life, I like to think I am patient. Therefore, I conclude that I am Dexteritally Impatient. My mind tells me to be incredibly careful, my hands slow right down, acting in a calculated manner. Yet the finished result looks more like an Aero bar or a lunar landscape and belies the time taken over the job. I know this to be one of my failings, therefore wallpapering is something I do not profess to have the patience for. Plenty other people can do it, I am a perfectly good painter, I can perform joinery tasks without too much trouble, align doors, measure and cut materials, lay a smooth path of concrete but show me some kind of thin sheet material and things have the potential to go haywire.
I approached a sign maker to produce lettering for the car. As a whole package, including H&S signs, magnetics for the car and other decals, he was going to be ridiculously expensive. "How hard can it be?" I asked myself. With Ebay as my friend, various self adhesive products were ordered. Hi Viz tape for the side, Hi Viz chevron strips for the rear and a great looking product, A4 self adhesive sheet that accepts standard inkjet ink to form a permanent outdoor sticker. Apart from the side stripes having now faded in spite of the cost and the chevrons facing only one way, making their mirroring a complete headache of wasted material and mismatch, the A4 sheets seemed to promise a very easy quick, professional look.

Firstly I had to finish the tints. In tune with what I've already said, they now presented themselves each as unique pieces of work, four pieces of glass each side, every one now with its own scale of imperfections. Given my choice not to tint out the rear window and the declassification of Pluto as a planet, you could probably align them all as a representation of our solar system. I could call one Mars to represent the pieces of sand which still abound in the car following the use by the previous owner. A gust of wind coming into the car at the crucial point being sufficient to embed hundreds of grains on the vinyl sheet. Definately a couple would be gas giants, given the amount of air now permanently trapped, despite my best squeegying efforts. The added risk on this occasion, was found in a few after they had been applied, stray head hairs, unnoticeable before offering them up, now nicely pressed like a butterfly in a collection for all to see. Earth, with its flaws and ozone hole quite, quite apparent by those pieces where I either refused to give up on the squeegy and had now pieces of black pigment scraped off, or the sheet had pulled it's own ink off when the sheet doubled back on itself. They were on, in the most part showing a black face onto which a contrasting yellow set of letters would be affixed.

Transport font, as used on all British road signs made sense, A simple block lettered font, highly visible. Three letters as large as possible to fit on one page. After only a few hours... margin alignment, telling the computer that No, I didn't want them over two separate pages, I was ready to print. I used plain paper first just to make sure, it all seemed fine. I double checked the instructions on use of the adhesive sheets to determine which side to print on. As a generic instruction sheet, I followed the guidance which I thought related to the type I had purchased, Clear vinyl with white backing sheet, that way, I could print yellow and it would show yellow up against the black glass background. I hit print and waited. The instructions noted that the sheet must be left for a minute for the ink to dry, so the rather blotchy result emerging from the printer did not initially phase me. Five minutes later, I was less than impressed. The finished piece resembled an oil slick in a puddle, albeit an oil slick neatly within the margins of the lettering. Thinking it may be a printer issue, I fed the sheet back in to apply more ink. Two things happened, firstly, the printer and my laptop started complaining the colour ink was low. I had recently changed the black ink. Only having bought the printer in May, the longevity of the ink did concern me, most new printers tend to only come with half filled ink cartridges and I did choose a Kodak so replacements were hardly a remortgaging matter, so I was not unduly worried. The second thing, was a newly over printed sheet with the same puddle-like characteristics, only this time, the outlines were a little more vague. With the mantra of "It'll look ok from a distance" I proceeded to the next stage.

The instructions suggest that for maximum outdoor longevity, an acrylic vehicle lacquer be applied over the sheet. Once trimmed to size, I took the sheet out to the garage, layed it beside a few pieces of Hi Viz tape in the hope the overspray might prevent them fading once used, and commenced carefully applying a protective coat. Once dry, I set to peeling off a small corner of backing paper ready to take for applying to the vehicle. The word off, quickly acquired another letter and became capitalised and repeated- O-FFS! The garage resounded to the adult version of a frustrated child stamping it's feet, on the discovery that I had misread the instructions for distinguishing the adhesive sheet from the backing sheet. Simply flipping the sheet and printing the correct side was no longer an option. Not only had I trimmed it from A4 to some, probably printer unrecognisable shape, but there was insufficient ink even if I could.

A couple of days later, armed with a new colour cartridge and a fresh sheet of adhesive, I set about trying again. I had ordered five A4 sheets, with the main purpose being the decals, together with a side project of making smaller asset stickers for my equipment. This looking increasingly unlikely and my paranoia at the planned miserly approach to using as much of the sheets as possible, probably resulting in text over text, writing off more sheets, combined with the new idea to add, what I call 3D Barcodes, technically known as QR Code to the sides of the car, meant I should just concentrate upon getting this right. The sheet loaded in the printer correctly, the computer suitably dismissed for suggesting the parameters were outwith normality (I wonder what the on screen message would be, were my laptop connected to my brain!) I hit print and waited. A perfect result emerged, this was duly repeated for the other side, the QR codes were printed too and I put all four sheets through the trimmer, then headed out to do the lacquer finish.
It’s quite windy here, it may be a calm day across the rest of the North East, in the Lumgair microclimate, it will most likely be force ten. This obviously does not help when trying to apply stickers. Undaunted, I was determined to get this done. I mean, how hard can it be to slap a sticky piece of vinyl onto a bit of glass? The rearmost side window would bear the text E M S, with a QR code on the white paintwork below it. All making a professional, yet subtle, livery for a car that is not only used for business but may visit a municipal waste tip with a friend's fridge freezer and not wish to be accused of being a trader trying to circumvent waste regulations. The QR code would be there for anyone who wished to know more about the business, taking a user straight to the website from their mobile phone. Most phones now come with this as standard, I thought it to be novel and portray a forward thinking business.

The areas to be "stuck upon" were prepared, the glass washed, the paintwork cleaned with T Cut. Time to peel the backing off and start to apply the first sticker. As the E was smoothed onto the glass, all was not looking so rosy, or rather not looking so yellow. Firstly, I thought my smoothing was removing the ink but I persevered until the only bubbling was under the clear areas and not the letters. Stepping back from the vehicle, I could clearly see that a sticker had been applied, there were three vague letters on said sticker. Rather than bold lettering standing out, the black bubbly window imperfections were now joined by a further rippled, squint flaw, only this time applied to the outside. Peeling it back off, the yellow became clear again in the daylight. The ink was intact so I tried again, this time following a better window line to ensure a straighter application. The yellow now became invisible once more. As good as the ink was, it was printed onto a clear material, making the yellow translucent. Set onto a black surface, the darker colour was winning out. In desperation, with the adhesive now having been tried twice already, I placed the sticker on the driver's door. The yellow on white worked very well, it was not the look I was trying to achieve and I was deeply unhappy with the overall effect it created. That was some hardy adhesive. Even if I didn't want it on the paintwork, it held on for dear life as I relieved it of its position once more.

My final attempt was on the back quarter of the car, just below the window where it had been intended. This was the area onto which the QR codes would be stuck, I adjusted the spacing accordingly to allow both stickers to fit. The QR sheets, by comparison, were a breeze to apply. Obviously care had to be taken to avoid any bubbles or the scanners would not read the image correctly. Once on, the checks with my phone produced a reassuring 'ping' any rust, of which there are all too many examples on the car had also been avoided from delivering the wrong scan. The backing sheet to the first sticker applied had been allowed to blow away at the time. I rescued it from the verge and deposited it in my wheelie bin. Half an hour later or so, this wheelie bin was upturned to rescue the backing sheet, thankfully the only contents were the sheet and a small piece of kitchen roll used in the preparation. My miserly approach had returned. I did not want to waste the sticker but had decided, upon reflection, I still did not like its positioning. Now, if you will excuse me, I believe I have an email to write, requesting a new quote from the professional signwriter.

Rare sympathy and empathy for a football player

I am not, in any way, a football fan. Asked to name a footballer though, the name Rio Ferdinand would be one of the more high profile stars I could bring to mind. I have as little sympathy for these players generally as I have time for the “beautiful game” frankly if you asked me to describe a beautiful game, perhaps Trivial Pursuit would be a candidate, the symmetry, those coloured plastic pie sections and the graphics on the board too. If a footballer wants to have an affair with a high class call girl, it is up to him, if he expects his shenanigans to remain secret, then it does rather show why he kicks a ball around a bit of grass, rather than having a job which involves intelligence.

Despite my negativity, I did sympathise with Rio Ferdinand recently with the story of his stalker. According to the BBC she made a number of trips to his home, whereupon she demanded she speak with him. Susanne Ibru was convicted of harassment and sentenced to ten weeks in jail and had a ten year restraining order imposed on her. She may not visit the town in which Ferdinand resides, nor approach him or any of his family. Ibru also turned the court into a farce when she allegedly sacked her defence counsel before continuing to represent herself. It would appear she had the foresight to realise the verdict would not go her way and failed to return to court for the verdict. On her re arrest, it is reported she spat in the face of the arresting officer. The ten week custodial sentence is all I can see mentioned, although she admitted when brought back to court, the spitting incident. Ibru was described as an “accomplished athlete” who had aspirations to become a sports agent. A profession where you focus on other people’s positives to promote them, not unlike the business of public relations. The judge told her “"The pre-sentence report describes you as living in a fantasy world, unable to interpret social situations and boundaries…."You display a predatory and manipulative lifestyle and try to deliberately mislead interviewers." My interpretation of this, is a very dangerous individual. I believe, had she been a man harassing a woman, the sentence would have been much harsher. I also wonder how long it took Rio Ferdinand, despite his wealth and influence, to try to convince police to take him seriously. Did he get the inference to “man up” or, as those who have never experienced such a psychotic individual’s attentions, the suggestion that he should take it all as a compliment?
Maybe the above phrases echo in the minds of the majority of the public who have not experienced such manipulative individuals themselves. It is an established notion, that paedophiles are mentally ill and they receive no public sympathy for their actions. They tear lives apart and leave deep emotional scars on the individuals they target and those close to their victims. Thankfully, laws are there to protect those seen as vulnerable and massive agencies exist focussed on child protection. The same cannot be said of stalking or harassment, it is bad for women who receive it, for men, it obviously does not happen, oh no, of course it has just been reported that it does. “Sticks and stones may break your bones but someone turning up in the dead of night ranting or threatening suicide has absolutely no effect” Food for thought?

Tax

Recently, I had the occasion to make a claim for tax relief. It kicks in if an individual is working thirty or more hours per week; helpful when times are hard and hopefully, before long, I will be making so much money, I will have to pay it all back.. Back in October, when I began self employment, my advisor gave me a form prefilled to be signed and returned but I was too honest for my own good and did not return it due to the odd disco here and there not mounting up hour sufficiently. Straight forward enough to just apply now then? Well it is, in theory. They found no trace of me living here, despite having my payslips, P60, benefit stuff and every voter's roll since moving to this address. "I needed to attend my local tax office with two proofs of ID, there, they would have the form ready to finish off and the application would be done" I arrived at Ruby house in good time (I know!) Produced my DL and a bank statement and was then handed a form. "Is that prefilled then?" I asked. "Oh no, we cant do that but take it away and fill it in" "Oh so can I not hand it back to you to get it into the system?" No, we cant do that, but go over to a booth and if you are struggling use the quick dial to call the helpline" I got my name and address down then had to call the helpline. Of course I hadn't taken any information with me such as my self employment tax ref (not my NI, I've known it off by heart since my wallet was stolen in '89) nor my income for last year, it is some notional figure made up in a dusty office somewhere. "Hello help line ?? speaking" Hello I'm in my local tax office having just confirmed my ID, can you give me my tax reference please?" "No we cannot give out such information over the phone" "But I'm in my local tax office as I speak.." "No we cant divulge personal information" "What about my income details for the form?" same answer. She helpfully suggested she could post out a tax coding notice but it may take up to fourteen days. I respectfully thanked her but declined, adding that I could probably drive home quicker. I got up to return the pen to the advisor and asked if, maybe he could find my TAX REFERENCE NUMBER. "Oh no, we dont hold that kind of information here. "But you're the tax office" I almost sobbed. Remember, all I had to do back in October was sign and date. Instead, a drive to Aberdeen on a day I could have been working, fuel, parking charges, a long walk as, with new tyres and a lowish fuel tank, I could not guarantee clearing the height limit on a multi storey. As I walked back to the car on a warm, sunny day in my T-Shirt, I mumbled to myself as I clutched the various envelopes and forms I had been given away with me. As I continued to mumble, there were a few drops of rain noticable. Once I returned to the car, my T-Shirt was soaked through and I placed the papier mache that had been in my hand on the passenger seat!