chrismpw
Player Valuation: £70m
Yo Carlos.
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The new kitchen
- Thread starter chrismpw
- Start date
- Status
carlos21
KING OF REP
How are you doing tonight.
chrismpw
Player Valuation: £70m
Aching like an 80 year old.
Rita_Poon
Player Valuation: £90m
You've got three days to install an international airport haven't you?
Chris, you are insane. I love this thread and now it includes boats. I'm still confused about the living arrangement. So your missus drives the boat to near her workplace and lives there while she has to be at work and then works from home the rest of the time? Yes?
Are we actually sure there is a wife, kitchen or boat?
The only picture I can remember seeing is of an old armchair and a stereo.
Rita_Poon
Player Valuation: £90m
Piano is real, sounds like he's not keen. Workshops a properly jealous maker...
I think that Chris has to build the boat first, out of off cuts from the new kitchen, with an old Land Rover engine powering it.
chrismpw
Player Valuation: £70m
So here I am trying to move a boat against a deadline , as has been pointed out, on the shortest days of the year. There is an enormrous amount of pressure. The arrangement is that once the boat is in its place, the missus uses it a couple of nights a week rather than commute 1 1/2 hours. Other times she works from home. Bear with me ... this is a long Basil Fawlty / Victor Meldrew type story, place yourselves in my shoes.
Last night I moored below a remote lock - for once there was peace and quiet apart from the generators of other boats and a very loud and inconsiderate owl. (Did I mention that yesterday? I forget. I'm not even sure what day it is let alone what the actual date is anymore.
I set an alarm for 6.30 determined to get going before dawn about 7.30. Heavy rain is forecast for around 9am so I'm ready in my raincoat and waterproof trousers (this is significant). For time first time I get going with no issues. There's a broad beam ahead of me with the same idea but I nip past and get to the lock 2 minutes later, hop off the boat and run to the lock ... yes run ... ambling eats up time. Before leaping off, I grab my phone which is always active with a navigation app, just in case it gets whipped and shove it in my raincoat pocket.
I spin the sluices open and look back to my boat. Did I leave my phone there? No I brought it with me. Then where is it? Then it dawned on me - the horrible realisation. I hadn't heard a splash. Surely the phone had dropped out of the stupidly small chest pocket of my raincoat as I ran to the lock. I searched forelornly amongst the leaves. It was nowhere. I went back to the lock and searched there. I hadn't heard a splash.
The lady behind me in the wide beam arrived and offered to phone my number (about the only time ever a female has asked for my number). It went straight to answerphone. Phones work on microwaves and we were in a good reception area which means the phone was under water. Microwaves don't penetrate water, they heat them.
All my contacts, all my banking stuff, all my music .... gone. You don't realise how much of your life relies on this technology until boom - that's the end. No more contact with the domestic female who will assume I'm dead and arrange a party. No contact with the mate who was joinint me this evening to helpt me out along the canal for a couple of days.
"Watford is about 2 miles that way" says the helpful female in the boat behind. I march off at a sweaty pace to buy a cheap phone and sim card. It's 8am and I'm in a rush. I find the Three store (my provider) at 8.58am and await its opening for a replacement SIM. At 9am, the lights are on. A watched pot never boils. At 9.05ish the music starts blaring in the flash mall store but there's nbobody to be seen. At around 9.10 a 16 year old female (it seems) comes into the store, does a U turn and leaves again.
Bugger this waiting, I start searching for a place flogging cheap second hand phones. Has to be a samsung as I have a samsung backup which worked perfectly LAST MONTH when I had to buy a new phone after DRIVING over my trusty Samsung Note 9. I found a few places and came back to the Three store which was finally open - I bite my lip about punctuality and say nothing more than "a watched pot" through gritted teeth. "No problem" says the 16 year old. I hand over my ID - driving licence and answer all of her secuyrity questions about birthdays and addresses and my lost [phone and its number. "I can do you a replacement SIM right now."
Wow - I'm impressed, this can be over quick and I'll be on my way.
"Oh sorry," she says having prepared the SIM and holding ity out to me befofre pulling it back, "your driving licence has your name as "Christopher" but you are logged onto our system as "Chris"
"Yes, that is my name."
"But it's not the same. They've recently cracked down on this because of fraud, I can't give you your SIM."
"That's ridiculous. Literally nobody has called me Christopher my entire life, not even my parents, not even the bank, not even the doctor. CHris a universal contraction of the word Christopher."
"I can't give it to you."
"So I have to wait for the post to deliver a new SIM? For the next three days, my wife will assume I'm dead (I don't know her phone number or even her email address ... does anybody remember these things these days?) and she'll have the police out? The mate I'm meeting tonight who's going to help me on my journey, I can't phone to arrange where to meet because you don't understand that Chris is Christopher?"
"Well you have a rolling contract, one way about this is if you sign up to a new contract at (less money for 6 months until you forget and then get absolutely stung ... my words not hers) I can give you the SIM as a gift"
As a gift ..,,.. they were her words. A gift negates all the attempts at head office's anti-fraud bull poo.
My teacher voice appears from nowehere - raised but level and assertive "that's absolute rubbish - this is an attempt at upselling and I'm not having it. It's ridiculous."
Then the customer-service-trained phrase comes from her lips that almost makes me lose it ... "there's no need to be insulting, sir."
"What? What have I said that's been insulting? I raised my voice. Do NOT mistake righteous customer anger with insult and do not dismiss it as such. I will not have this crock of lies thrown at me, I shall refer this to head office and also mention that you opened 20 minutes after the advertised time, wasting customer time is hardly good service to be proud of, and neither is upselling a contract on some cock and bull excuse of fraud. I shall go elsewhere for a temporary SIM."
That's the short version.
There followed - the purchase of a second hand phone (exacttly the same as the 2 year old model I'd driven over last month and NOT the newer (£800 second hand and now in the bottom of the canal) upgrade with the crappy fingerprint detection and lack of headphone socket that necessitated me having to buy expensive (£150 second hand) but awful sounding Bluetooth headphones .... but THE EFFING BATTERY WAS FLAT.
Last night I moored below a remote lock - for once there was peace and quiet apart from the generators of other boats and a very loud and inconsiderate owl. (Did I mention that yesterday? I forget. I'm not even sure what day it is let alone what the actual date is anymore.
I set an alarm for 6.30 determined to get going before dawn about 7.30. Heavy rain is forecast for around 9am so I'm ready in my raincoat and waterproof trousers (this is significant). For time first time I get going with no issues. There's a broad beam ahead of me with the same idea but I nip past and get to the lock 2 minutes later, hop off the boat and run to the lock ... yes run ... ambling eats up time. Before leaping off, I grab my phone which is always active with a navigation app, just in case it gets whipped and shove it in my raincoat pocket.
I spin the sluices open and look back to my boat. Did I leave my phone there? No I brought it with me. Then where is it? Then it dawned on me - the horrible realisation. I hadn't heard a splash. Surely the phone had dropped out of the stupidly small chest pocket of my raincoat as I ran to the lock. I searched forelornly amongst the leaves. It was nowhere. I went back to the lock and searched there. I hadn't heard a splash.
The lady behind me in the wide beam arrived and offered to phone my number (about the only time ever a female has asked for my number). It went straight to answerphone. Phones work on microwaves and we were in a good reception area which means the phone was under water. Microwaves don't penetrate water, they heat them.
All my contacts, all my banking stuff, all my music .... gone. You don't realise how much of your life relies on this technology until boom - that's the end. No more contact with the domestic female who will assume I'm dead and arrange a party. No contact with the mate who was joinint me this evening to helpt me out along the canal for a couple of days.
"Watford is about 2 miles that way" says the helpful female in the boat behind. I march off at a sweaty pace to buy a cheap phone and sim card. It's 8am and I'm in a rush. I find the Three store (my provider) at 8.58am and await its opening for a replacement SIM. At 9am, the lights are on. A watched pot never boils. At 9.05ish the music starts blaring in the flash mall store but there's nbobody to be seen. At around 9.10 a 16 year old female (it seems) comes into the store, does a U turn and leaves again.
Bugger this waiting, I start searching for a place flogging cheap second hand phones. Has to be a samsung as I have a samsung backup which worked perfectly LAST MONTH when I had to buy a new phone after DRIVING over my trusty Samsung Note 9. I found a few places and came back to the Three store which was finally open - I bite my lip about punctuality and say nothing more than "a watched pot" through gritted teeth. "No problem" says the 16 year old. I hand over my ID - driving licence and answer all of her secuyrity questions about birthdays and addresses and my lost [phone and its number. "I can do you a replacement SIM right now."
Wow - I'm impressed, this can be over quick and I'll be on my way.
"Oh sorry," she says having prepared the SIM and holding ity out to me befofre pulling it back, "your driving licence has your name as "Christopher" but you are logged onto our system as "Chris"
"Yes, that is my name."
"But it's not the same. They've recently cracked down on this because of fraud, I can't give you your SIM."
"That's ridiculous. Literally nobody has called me Christopher my entire life, not even my parents, not even the bank, not even the doctor. CHris a universal contraction of the word Christopher."
"I can't give it to you."
"So I have to wait for the post to deliver a new SIM? For the next three days, my wife will assume I'm dead (I don't know her phone number or even her email address ... does anybody remember these things these days?) and she'll have the police out? The mate I'm meeting tonight who's going to help me on my journey, I can't phone to arrange where to meet because you don't understand that Chris is Christopher?"
"Well you have a rolling contract, one way about this is if you sign up to a new contract at (less money for 6 months until you forget and then get absolutely stung ... my words not hers) I can give you the SIM as a gift"
As a gift ..,,.. they were her words. A gift negates all the attempts at head office's anti-fraud bull poo.
My teacher voice appears from nowehere - raised but level and assertive "that's absolute rubbish - this is an attempt at upselling and I'm not having it. It's ridiculous."
Then the customer-service-trained phrase comes from her lips that almost makes me lose it ... "there's no need to be insulting, sir."
"What? What have I said that's been insulting? I raised my voice. Do NOT mistake righteous customer anger with insult and do not dismiss it as such. I will not have this crock of lies thrown at me, I shall refer this to head office and also mention that you opened 20 minutes after the advertised time, wasting customer time is hardly good service to be proud of, and neither is upselling a contract on some cock and bull excuse of fraud. I shall go elsewhere for a temporary SIM."
That's the short version.
There followed - the purchase of a second hand phone (exacttly the same as the 2 year old model I'd driven over last month and NOT the newer (£800 second hand and now in the bottom of the canal) upgrade with the crappy fingerprint detection and lack of headphone socket that necessitated me having to buy expensive (£150 second hand) but awful sounding Bluetooth headphones .... but THE EFFING BATTERY WAS FLAT.
Is this kitchen finished yet?
chrismpw
Player Valuation: £70m
So I find a Costa Coffee and force myself to spend a fiver for a worse coffee that I could make on the boat in order to charge the phone and usetheir wifi to set up the new sim card I'd bought elsewhere. That took another hour to find ... without a working phone and google maps.
Having done this I march back to the boat by about lunchtime. I'd lost half a day and was around £260 lighter in the pocket if you ignore the £800 in the bottom of a canal somewhere.
Every lock so far has been against me ... by which I mean, there's been somebody JUST ahead of me leaving it, which means I have to moor, close the gates, empty the lock and open the gates before going in and operating the lock. It takes twice as long. Just for once it would be nice to find somebody going my way - so they're just leaving the lock - they don't have to stop to close it and I just glide in. That's the dream.
Then I pass a working boat - a pump-out boat. A fella that cruises the locks offering a service to pump out their faeces to take away for disposal. A good old salt who knows the canal and all it trips. He's going my way. At last - a break. We go through the next lock in unison each smoothly and without having to say a thing, sharing the workload. He's planning to go through the next ninbe locks today. Absolute BLISS! At last I've caught a break.
We get to the next lock together - oh no ... there's a boat going in. Normally this would be good, but the pro is ahead of me and the lock only takes two boats. My heart sinks. My sweet rare good fortune has turned to bad luck in such short a time. Tits!
Wait - what;s this? The pro is waving me ahead - letting my go through. Oh sweet mercy of the gods they're finally on my side - thank you - thank you very much. A shared workload.
So I enter the lock with what turns out to be the nautical equivalent of Mr Bean. He's nice, but he's inept. He's been on the canal for years, but he dithers like an old man, despite being not a day over the mid 30s. The first lock with the two of us doing it tyook longer than if I had been alone ... I shut the rear PAIR gates - meaning I had to walk all the way around past where he stood to shut the gate next to where he was stood faffing about with his lines. Then he opened the gate on HBIS SIDE - not mine! FFS FFS FFS!
Then this bloke confessed he was low on diesel so was taking it easy .... by which he meant SLOW. SO I decided to overtake him .... which was enough to make this "experienced" boater lose control of his craft and nearly hit me if it wasn't for a surprising turn of pace I didn't think my own boat had. For the rest of the day I got to the locks first and prepared them, with the hope that he'd stop and close and drain them after I'd left. What actually happened is that after every lock the "pro" would cheerfully turn up and do the lock for him so that I COULD NEVERE OUT RUN CAPTAIN SLOW who was now affixed to me like a leech and I could not outrun. He'd be there at every effing lock. I did all the effing work, even running in the locks, windlass in hand, while he'd have some kind of issue - forgot his lock key, got rammed on a gate and couldn't get back, had a problem with his throttle, had a problem with his ropes.
Honestly it would have been easier and faster if I had travelled the day alone.
At one lock I turned to the pro and said "you know him don't you, that's why you let me go ahead,"
He smiled and said "yeah - he's bloody useless ... but you got me through faster than if I'd been behind him."
Oh - and having got the new phone and missed the doc's promised phone call because my number had changed (thanks THREE) and then phoned my mate who was supposed to be joining me tonight to help ... my mate told me he was jibbing me off for another day because he has a date.
I hate this journey.
Having done this I march back to the boat by about lunchtime. I'd lost half a day and was around £260 lighter in the pocket if you ignore the £800 in the bottom of a canal somewhere.
Every lock so far has been against me ... by which I mean, there's been somebody JUST ahead of me leaving it, which means I have to moor, close the gates, empty the lock and open the gates before going in and operating the lock. It takes twice as long. Just for once it would be nice to find somebody going my way - so they're just leaving the lock - they don't have to stop to close it and I just glide in. That's the dream.
Then I pass a working boat - a pump-out boat. A fella that cruises the locks offering a service to pump out their faeces to take away for disposal. A good old salt who knows the canal and all it trips. He's going my way. At last - a break. We go through the next lock in unison each smoothly and without having to say a thing, sharing the workload. He's planning to go through the next ninbe locks today. Absolute BLISS! At last I've caught a break.
We get to the next lock together - oh no ... there's a boat going in. Normally this would be good, but the pro is ahead of me and the lock only takes two boats. My heart sinks. My sweet rare good fortune has turned to bad luck in such short a time. Tits!
Wait - what;s this? The pro is waving me ahead - letting my go through. Oh sweet mercy of the gods they're finally on my side - thank you - thank you very much. A shared workload.
So I enter the lock with what turns out to be the nautical equivalent of Mr Bean. He's nice, but he's inept. He's been on the canal for years, but he dithers like an old man, despite being not a day over the mid 30s. The first lock with the two of us doing it tyook longer than if I had been alone ... I shut the rear PAIR gates - meaning I had to walk all the way around past where he stood to shut the gate next to where he was stood faffing about with his lines. Then he opened the gate on HBIS SIDE - not mine! FFS FFS FFS!
Then this bloke confessed he was low on diesel so was taking it easy .... by which he meant SLOW. SO I decided to overtake him .... which was enough to make this "experienced" boater lose control of his craft and nearly hit me if it wasn't for a surprising turn of pace I didn't think my own boat had. For the rest of the day I got to the locks first and prepared them, with the hope that he'd stop and close and drain them after I'd left. What actually happened is that after every lock the "pro" would cheerfully turn up and do the lock for him so that I COULD NEVERE OUT RUN CAPTAIN SLOW who was now affixed to me like a leech and I could not outrun. He'd be there at every effing lock. I did all the effing work, even running in the locks, windlass in hand, while he'd have some kind of issue - forgot his lock key, got rammed on a gate and couldn't get back, had a problem with his throttle, had a problem with his ropes.
Honestly it would have been easier and faster if I had travelled the day alone.
At one lock I turned to the pro and said "you know him don't you, that's why you let me go ahead,"
He smiled and said "yeah - he's bloody useless ... but you got me through faster than if I'd been behind him."
Oh - and having got the new phone and missed the doc's promised phone call because my number had changed (thanks THREE) and then phoned my mate who was supposed to be joining me tonight to help ... my mate told me he was jibbing me off for another day because he has a date.
I hate this journey.
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