Door stops

It has been so cold in the house during the day over the last month I've had to use an ice scraper on the computer monitor before I could use it.

EoTP develops a new law of finance

When you have a much reduced income then the sensible thing to do is to reduce your spending at the same time. However there is an immutable law of the universe that states 'a drastic fall in your income and a sensible and matched reduction in spending is immediately followed by a corresponding substantial rise in your utility bills and an expensive failure of several vital domestic appliances.' Thus our gas and electricity monthly bill has just risen by 74%. Now I have appealed, in vain, to the accounts department of Horrendous Gas Bills and Laughingly Large Electricity Costs Ltd and thought I'd proved that, actually, our fuel consumption had fallen over the year - cunningly I used their own graphs and data but they remain unmoved.

So back to the cold house. You see, when you work you are so pampered, well at least many of us are/were, with warm buildings and, sometimes, even aircon during the summer. Mrs EoTP would like to point out here that she works in an Elizabethan building where the only way to warm it up was throw another Catholic on the fire. That was in the 16th Century of course. As a result, at home, the heating does not get switched on during the day and I have to wear so many layers to keep warm that the Michelin Man looks anorexic compared to me. I can't bend my arms to use the keyboard and have to rock from side to side to press the keys. thiz hus teken mi al dai to tipe.

Being at home also involves talking to a lot more people who knock at the door during the day, people I didn't know existed before unemployment. There is of course the Postie. Consistently, through snow and sun, rain and fog, she never fails to drop yet another substantial bill through the letterbox but never, ever any job offers. Don't get me wrong, after being home by myself all day with just my head goblins to chat with, the opportunity of talking to another human is one I can eagerly grasp.

But there are the others. We have the proselytisers, naturally, a steady stream of people most weeks, with the convictions of their faith, wishing to share it with you. I have no problems with anyone trying to convince others of their faith and will listen politely at my door for up to several seconds before declining their various tracts. Live and let live as long as it doesn't scare the horses I say. They seem to travel in twos: good proselytiser, bad proselytiser? Sometimes it is necessary to be a little more assertive in convincing them to leave, they having mistaken my smile as I greet them for someone desperate to be converted to Pantheism, become a Jedi Warrior, Man from Uncle or whatever. It is the ones who presume on my innate politeness by coming back for a second or third go over the next few weeks that, frankly, start to get on my er, er, er, wick (that'll do). I do point out that I don't come to their door and attempt to convert them to paganism or atheism on multiple occasions even though they have made it clear that they are not interested but we could make a pact and, if they don't stop calling, I will dress in a long white sheet and pointy hat and dance round in circles, singing and clapping on their drive whilst waving an inflated pigs bladder on a stick at each turn of the Equinox and other divers ancient ceremonial dates and is that OK with them?

We also have many itinerant peddlers call. They launch into their sales pitch for Latvian Gonks, Peruvian nose flute music CDs or super cloths (super cloths??) the instant the door opens, presenting you with an 'Identity card' that they have clearly made on a 1950's John Bull childs' printing set with a wonky, blurry picture of what looks like a Womble stuck on. I generally laugh at this identity card and tell them my kids could make a better one. Last week one presented me with a 'Peddlers' licence', allegedly signed by Sergeant in a Nottingham police station. I scoffed and he huffed and said 'Well, call them then it's pukka.' 'Right', I said, 'I will.' and made for the phone. He departed so fast he left scorch marks on the gravel on the drive.

Outside the house the Council are repairing the path. They are changing it from the 4 x4 testing ground it has resembled for many years to a blacktop surface with the smoothness of baize on a snooker table. Anyway they have this sign up - see the top of this blog. I wondered then, what sort of assistance they might offer me?

'Can you help me with my job seeking?'
'Yes go and talk to Albert there on the concrete mixer, he's a renowned expert and talks regularly on the Radio 4 'Today' programme to John Humphries amongst others. Albert is so motivational and passionate on the subject he'll soon put you right and get you back to work.'

'I'm confused about Marxism-Leninism could you explain the difference?'
'Of course, Brian driving the dumper truck completes the Wikipedia entry on that subject and lectures in many countries during his holidays - good friend of Castro actually.'

'I've never had cause to use the horse's hoof stone extracting tool on my Swiss Army knife, why do they still include one in the tool set?'
'Ah, now Jenny can answer that, she's an expert on medieval armour as well as our JCB driver.'

'I've been writing this blog on people who call at the door now I am at home a lot and don't know how to finish it.'
'That's an easy one, I can answer that for you, all you have to do is...'