So how did you all do?
Me? I ended up invalided out. I pulled a muscle in my back and spent the weekend in considerable pain. It was only a little niggle last Wednesday, after I attempted a particularly poor Pilates DVD, somewhere below the tip of the right shoulder blade. The aerobics I did on Friday aggravated it and by Saturday morning, I had pains all across my right flank (sort of where the oblique muscles are). DH covered me in ibuprofen gel but I really only got relief after I remembered the heat-packs my sister gave me one birthday.
Still, I think I deserve a bronze medal for all that.
- Pam
Wednesday, 27 August 2008
Monday, 25 August 2008
The unlucky sock
Remember the sock that I had to frog because it would fit an elephant instead of DH? Well, I've had more traumas with it. I was 2/3 of the way up the toe on Saturday when I noticed a hole about two inches below. Couldn't figure out how it was formed. For a few minutes, I debated whether to just run a thread around it/through it but it fell right where the edge of DH's foot would meet his shoe and would probably rub.
Reluctantly, carefully, I frogged it back, counting the rows below the toe decreases so that I could accurately return the sock to the same length. The hole was caused by an accidental yarn over, right where I'd moved from one dpn to the next. (To prevent a ladder, I always knit through the back of the loop in the first stitch, yarn over the needle instead of under, which makes a tight stitch that faces the right way. Somehow, I'd brought the yarn from the wrong side.)
I picked up the stitches and knitted frantically through yesterday's Olympic's closing ceremony. Since we had a Prom Concert last night, I was determined to have a new sock on my needles rather than run out of sock half way through the concert. At about 8pm (the concert was at 10), I grafted the toe. Big sigh of relief. "Great," I thought, "I'll just roll up a new skein of yarn and I'll be ready for tonight".
For some reason, at that point I compared the sock to it's pair. Yes, they were the same length and width. Good. But what was this? Uh, oh. Something didn't look right. In denial, I held them both up to show DH. Somehow, I'd managed to knit the toe sideways!
Thank God I hadn't woven in the end!
- Pam (frogged it back again, this morning. Third time lucky?)
Reluctantly, carefully, I frogged it back, counting the rows below the toe decreases so that I could accurately return the sock to the same length. The hole was caused by an accidental yarn over, right where I'd moved from one dpn to the next. (To prevent a ladder, I always knit through the back of the loop in the first stitch, yarn over the needle instead of under, which makes a tight stitch that faces the right way. Somehow, I'd brought the yarn from the wrong side.)
I picked up the stitches and knitted frantically through yesterday's Olympic's closing ceremony. Since we had a Prom Concert last night, I was determined to have a new sock on my needles rather than run out of sock half way through the concert. At about 8pm (the concert was at 10), I grafted the toe. Big sigh of relief. "Great," I thought, "I'll just roll up a new skein of yarn and I'll be ready for tonight".
For some reason, at that point I compared the sock to it's pair. Yes, they were the same length and width. Good. But what was this? Uh, oh. Something didn't look right. In denial, I held them both up to show DH. Somehow, I'd managed to knit the toe sideways!
Thank God I hadn't woven in the end!
- Pam (frogged it back again, this morning. Third time lucky?)
Sunday, 24 August 2008
Discord
It occurs to me that I haven't talked much about this year's Prom Concerts. We aren't going to as many as last year and have managed to miss two of the ones we were to attend, thanks to MIL's ulcer (all healed up now) and being far to knackered to drive into London for a 10pm concert (we listened to it instead on the radio).
Still, there are a few moments that have been blog-worthy, particularly the time when the man next to me asked if I always knitted at the Proms. "Yes," I said, wary that I might be about to get bollocked. "I saw you at the last concert we attended. We sat behind you. Did you enjoy the ...[insert forgotten composition here]...?". He then asked me about my sock, commenting "It isn't much bigger than last week!". OMG - I'm turning into one of the features of the Proms, the Knitting Lady!
Then there was the "Dead Cat" Prom, on Sunday 10th August. The program included two World Premiers:-
MacRae's Gaudete was music to slit your wrist by. There's no polite way to describe it. The soprano soloist sounded like a wounded cat mourning her lost territory. I can't blame the musicians - technically, it was a difficult piece and they acquitted themselves well. I'm not even sure I can blame the composer; his task was to take Ted Hughes' horribly depressing book of poems about death and turn it into classical music. Check out MacRae's programme notes.
Thank God for the Elgar. Helen had brought along her ?9-year old niece. If the concert had finished with Gaudete, the poor kid would have been left with nightmares.
The other memorable Prom was this Friday night's:-
The Stockhausen, on the other hand... Skip it. It is 27 minutes of discord, based on his theory of pointillism. I can't fault the musicians - it is a very difficult piece to play and, as far as I can tell, they did a good job. But it is a discordant mess without any themes on which to hang your musical hat.
To me, the Stockhausen is an example of what went wrong with 20th Century music. Somewhere in the middle of century, composers (and critics) turned their backs on melody - it was uncool and old-fashioned. Critics still do it: film theme-music and musicals are sneered at for being "populist", as if only unpopular music can be considered any good. The more obscure, the better as far as they are concerned. I'm sure the Dead Cat music got full marks from the critics.
We've heard three new pieces this year, the two above and Jason Yarde's Rhythm and Other Fascinations. Only the Yarde was memorable for the right reasons: he focused on melody and rhythm. Whilst you can hear his jazz influences, he's composed something new and fresh. I bet he was slated by the critics. If you get the chance, keep an ear out for it.
Tonight, we're going to another late night concert: Bach's cello suites 1, 2, and 3. I'll let you know if it is blog-worthy.
- Pam
* You have until Friday 29th August to listen to the concert via the BBC's "Listen Again" service. It's in 3 downloads. Skip part two to miss the Stockhausen.
Still, there are a few moments that have been blog-worthy, particularly the time when the man next to me asked if I always knitted at the Proms. "Yes," I said, wary that I might be about to get bollocked. "I saw you at the last concert we attended. We sat behind you. Did you enjoy the ...[insert forgotten composition here]...?". He then asked me about my sock, commenting "It isn't much bigger than last week!". OMG - I'm turning into one of the features of the Proms, the Knitting Lady!
Then there was the "Dead Cat" Prom, on Sunday 10th August. The program included two World Premiers:-
- Sibelius Night Ride and Sunrise
- Michael Berkeley Slow Dawn (World premier of this version)
- Stuart MacRae Gaudete (BBC commission and world premier)
- Elgar Enigma Variations (30 mins)
MacRae's Gaudete was music to slit your wrist by. There's no polite way to describe it. The soprano soloist sounded like a wounded cat mourning her lost territory. I can't blame the musicians - technically, it was a difficult piece and they acquitted themselves well. I'm not even sure I can blame the composer; his task was to take Ted Hughes' horribly depressing book of poems about death and turn it into classical music. Check out MacRae's programme notes.
Thank God for the Elgar. Helen had brought along her ?9-year old niece. If the concert had finished with Gaudete, the poor kid would have been left with nightmares.
The other memorable Prom was this Friday night's:-
- Mahler Symphony No.5
- Stockhausen Punkte (1952/1962/1993)
- Schubert Ständchen, D921 orch. David Matthews
- Bei dir allein, D866/2 orch. Manfred Trojahn
- Nacht und Träume, D827 orch. Colin Matthews
- Das Lied im Grünen, D917 orch. Detlev Glanert
- Beethoven Overture 'Leonore' No.3
The Stockhausen, on the other hand... Skip it. It is 27 minutes of discord, based on his theory of pointillism. I can't fault the musicians - it is a very difficult piece to play and, as far as I can tell, they did a good job. But it is a discordant mess without any themes on which to hang your musical hat.
To me, the Stockhausen is an example of what went wrong with 20th Century music. Somewhere in the middle of century, composers (and critics) turned their backs on melody - it was uncool and old-fashioned. Critics still do it: film theme-music and musicals are sneered at for being "populist", as if only unpopular music can be considered any good. The more obscure, the better as far as they are concerned. I'm sure the Dead Cat music got full marks from the critics.
We've heard three new pieces this year, the two above and Jason Yarde's Rhythm and Other Fascinations. Only the Yarde was memorable for the right reasons: he focused on melody and rhythm. Whilst you can hear his jazz influences, he's composed something new and fresh. I bet he was slated by the critics. If you get the chance, keep an ear out for it.
Tonight, we're going to another late night concert: Bach's cello suites 1, 2, and 3. I'll let you know if it is blog-worthy.
- Pam
* You have until Friday 29th August to listen to the concert via the BBC's "Listen Again" service. It's in 3 downloads. Skip part two to miss the Stockhausen.
Friday, 22 August 2008
Going for Bronze
Have you been glued to the Olympics, like me? Every morning, instead of my usual "BBC Breakfast" program, I've been watching the BBC's live coverage of the summer Olympics in Beijing. Throughout the day, at work, we've been checking the BBC's website for updates; "Have we won another medal yet?" is a common refrain from whomever has spent the last hour in a meeting. 7pm is the highlights program - another must watch.
Given my dual-country-status as an Aussie who has spent half her life in Britain, I'm particularly amused by the rivalry that has developed on the British side, where the Brits are happy but only because they have more gold medals than the Aussies. Throughout the last two weeks it's been "We've almost caught up with the Australians," "We're level on Gold medals," "The Aussies are ahead," etc. And this isn't just my husband teasing me; it's happening on the BBC, too. The current status:-
For the Australian nation, coming home from Montreal with FIVE medals and no gold medals was a huge shock to the system, a real ego blow. There is a huge part of our national identity tied up in sport. We're a small nation at the empty end of the planet; not much sphere of influence there. Sport is one way of getting our collective voice heard in the big wide world. Virtually all our national heroes are sporting heroes (understandable when your recorded history only goes back some 200-odd years). Montreal was a turning point. It lead to the founding of the Australian Institute of Sport and the subsequent professionalising of much of Australia's sporting infrastructure. And 32 years later, I'm enjoying watching the results.
Ahem... Pamela. Stop avoiding the Question. How is your Olympics challenge?
OK, a confession. I've been avoiding blogging because I haven't been very successful at my challenge. I've been trying to figure out a way to put a positive spin on all this, but I'm failing. I'm not worthy of a gold medal. Or a silver. But I reckon my case for a bronze is still valid.
Over the last 15 days, there have been six when I didn't exercise/perform the challenge. I lost last weekend to a migraine (which finally wore off completely on Monday) and three days to laziness. By my reckoning, the migraine took me from gold (perfect score) to silver. It was beyond my control.
As long as I continue to exercise until the closing ceremony on Sunday, I think I still deserve the bronze. Yes, laziness reared it's ugly head, but I have managed to beat it back into it's corner during the majority of the days of the Challenge. And that is what an Olympic Challenge is all about really - picking a goal and fighting your way past the demons until you succeed.
- Pam (Come on Aussies Come on!!!)
*That's actually more than I remembered. I only remembered the Bronze in the swimming, and was checking out the name of the swimmer** on the Australian Olympic Committee website when I found the real tally.
**His name was Stephen Holland, a.k.a. "Super Fish".
Given my dual-country-status as an Aussie who has spent half her life in Britain, I'm particularly amused by the rivalry that has developed on the British side, where the Brits are happy but only because they have more gold medals than the Aussies. Throughout the last two weeks it's been "We've almost caught up with the Australians," "We're level on Gold medals," "The Aussies are ahead," etc. And this isn't just my husband teasing me; it's happening on the BBC, too. The current status:-
BritainI'm not bitter. Honest. When you consider that Australia's population is less than 1/10th that of the United States and about 1/5 that of Great Britain or France or Germany, coming 6th in the Olympics is a huge achievement. Especially when I remember the dark days of the Montreal Olympics, where we won one (1) single Silver medal and four (4) Bronze.*
Gold 18
Silver 13
Bronze 11
Total = 42
Ranking 3rd
Australia
Gold 11
Silver 14
Bronze 16
Total = 41
Ranking 6th
For the Australian nation, coming home from Montreal with FIVE medals and no gold medals was a huge shock to the system, a real ego blow. There is a huge part of our national identity tied up in sport. We're a small nation at the empty end of the planet; not much sphere of influence there. Sport is one way of getting our collective voice heard in the big wide world. Virtually all our national heroes are sporting heroes (understandable when your recorded history only goes back some 200-odd years). Montreal was a turning point. It lead to the founding of the Australian Institute of Sport and the subsequent professionalising of much of Australia's sporting infrastructure. And 32 years later, I'm enjoying watching the results.
Ahem... Pamela. Stop avoiding the Question. How is your Olympics challenge?
OK, a confession. I've been avoiding blogging because I haven't been very successful at my challenge. I've been trying to figure out a way to put a positive spin on all this, but I'm failing. I'm not worthy of a gold medal. Or a silver. But I reckon my case for a bronze is still valid.
Over the last 15 days, there have been six when I didn't exercise/perform the challenge. I lost last weekend to a migraine (which finally wore off completely on Monday) and three days to laziness. By my reckoning, the migraine took me from gold (perfect score) to silver. It was beyond my control.
As long as I continue to exercise until the closing ceremony on Sunday, I think I still deserve the bronze. Yes, laziness reared it's ugly head, but I have managed to beat it back into it's corner during the majority of the days of the Challenge. And that is what an Olympic Challenge is all about really - picking a goal and fighting your way past the demons until you succeed.
- Pam (Come on Aussies Come on!!!)
*That's actually more than I remembered. I only remembered the Bronze in the swimming, and was checking out the name of the swimmer** on the Australian Olympic Committee website when I found the real tally.
**His name was Stephen Holland, a.k.a. "Super Fish".
Sunday, 10 August 2008
Exercise Olympics: Days 1, 2 and 3 Report
(Well, maybe I'm cheating a little reporting Day 3 before it's finished but this will be my only blog-time today.)
Friday, I thought "Well, I've committed myself in public, I'd better get up and do something". My choice: Move More by Weight Watchers. This was the first time I'd had it out of the case. After listening to the introduction, I pushed the furniture back, dialled up an aerobic session and settled down to follow as best I could.
I don't know about you, but I buy exercise DVDs to "inspire me". To prove to myself that this time I am going to work out. This time will be different - see, I've got a shiny new DVD to prove it! And I'm determined to make it happen this time. Only, this time becomes last time and nothing changes.
Move More was a pleasant surprise. The designers have put a lot of thought into what their audience needs and wants: firstly, by designing a routine that changes each time you switch it on, and secondly, by noticing that none of us live in an exercise studio. This is a workout that can be done in a six foot square of cleared space. Also, it was easy to follow. OK, I'm not the most coordinated person, nor do I have much balance, so if I can follow a DVD on the first time through then it must be good.
The final thing to note is that the DVD doesn't contain one exercise style of workout - it contains three. You can chose a stretch and relax type workout, a tone and muscle building type workout or an aerobic workout. (These are my descriptions - WW calls them something else.) And you can choose the duration too, from 5 to 30 minutes.
For Day 2, last night, I did a stretch and relax workout. It was late, I was tired and self-conscious because DH was in the room. Once again, the workout was easy to follow, mainly floor work (so no "need to balance on one leg" stuff, yay!).
This morning's choice is going to be The Firm's Slim Solutions Yoga Workout, just as soon as I've had my second cup of coffee. So that's three days down, 14 to go.
- Pam
PS: I'd like to welcome those who've signed up so far: Nandy (hi sis!) and Fluff.
Friday, I thought "Well, I've committed myself in public, I'd better get up and do something". My choice: Move More by Weight Watchers. This was the first time I'd had it out of the case. After listening to the introduction, I pushed the furniture back, dialled up an aerobic session and settled down to follow as best I could.
I don't know about you, but I buy exercise DVDs to "inspire me". To prove to myself that this time I am going to work out. This time will be different - see, I've got a shiny new DVD to prove it! And I'm determined to make it happen this time. Only, this time becomes last time and nothing changes.
Move More was a pleasant surprise. The designers have put a lot of thought into what their audience needs and wants: firstly, by designing a routine that changes each time you switch it on, and secondly, by noticing that none of us live in an exercise studio. This is a workout that can be done in a six foot square of cleared space. Also, it was easy to follow. OK, I'm not the most coordinated person, nor do I have much balance, so if I can follow a DVD on the first time through then it must be good.
The final thing to note is that the DVD doesn't contain one exercise style of workout - it contains three. You can chose a stretch and relax type workout, a tone and muscle building type workout or an aerobic workout. (These are my descriptions - WW calls them something else.) And you can choose the duration too, from 5 to 30 minutes.
For Day 2, last night, I did a stretch and relax workout. It was late, I was tired and self-conscious because DH was in the room. Once again, the workout was easy to follow, mainly floor work (so no "need to balance on one leg" stuff, yay!).
This morning's choice is going to be The Firm's Slim Solutions Yoga Workout, just as soon as I've had my second cup of coffee. So that's three days down, 14 to go.
- Pam
PS: I'd like to welcome those who've signed up so far: Nandy (hi sis!) and Fluff.
Friday, 8 August 2008
The Exercise Olympics
"The most important thing in the Olympic Games is not to win but to take part, just as the most important thing in life is not the triumph but the struggle. The essential thing is not to have conquered but to have fought well." The Olympic Creed-------
Blame the Yarn Harlot. It's all her fault for introducing me to the concept of taking on an Olympic Challenge whilst the real Olympics are on. In 2006, Stephanie Pearl-McPhee created the Knitting Olympics to run concurrently with the Winter Olympic Games. The concept was to take on an achievable knitting challenge - something that would stretch the participants but would still be do-able within the constraints of their skill levels and other commitments.
In a moment of inspiration/madness (delete as appropriate) yesterday, I decided that I would set my own Olympic Challenge for the duration of the Beijing Olympic Games. Only, this time, instead of it being knitting (any excuse), I'd make it based on exercise - the bane of my existence.
I am very aware that I don't get enough exercise. I've become more and more of a slug as the years have gone on. Oh, I've dabbled in yoga, own several pairs of dumbells (and am not afraid to use them), and I can still walk for miles, but I'm no way close to being fit. Or even to achieving the recommended daily minimum for aerobic exercise. It just doesn't happen. And I've made more New Years Resolutions to correct this than I can count.
So, for the duration of the Olympics - from today, 8th August until Sunday 24th August inclusive - I hereby vow publicly to achieve the following Olympic Challenge:
I, PipneyJane, will exercise for a minimum of 15 minutes every day during the Olympics, such exercise to be defined as a continuous activity or series of activities as directed by either an instructor or by an exercise video/DVD.Anyone care to join me?
- Pam
Wednesday, 6 August 2008
Current obsession
When it comes to sport, I am pretty much a true-to-type, die-in-the-wool, stereotypical Australian. Sport is our national religion. It is the one thing that unites all the disparate peoples and cultures that make up Australia. We have four codes of Football (Australian Rules, Rugby Union, Rugby League and Soccer), Cricket, athletics, rowing, sailing (even people who've never been on a boat in their lives follow the progress of the Sydney to Hobart Yacht Race), golf, surfing, cycling, horse racing (the Melbourne Cup is the only horse race in the world that has it's own public holiday), tennis, etc, etc. And in all of the sports I've listed, we're world class. When Australia takes a sport seriously, look out the rest of the world; we won't stop until we're champions.
It's summer, so I'm obsessing about Cricket. In particular, the international matches between England vs. New Zealand at the start of the summer, and England vs. South Africa now. If I could, I'd listen to every ball of every game. Sadly, I work in a radio black spot (last year, I purchased a DAB radio just to get Test Match Special but there is no reception here), and the IT Department have blocked radio via the internet.
Kim has "County" membership of Surrey Cricket Club. In June, we treated ourselves to a Girls Day Out - a One Day International at the Oval. It was a day that started with the threat of rain and became hot and sunny, so I went prepared for anything: hiking slacks that convert to shorts (similar to these), strappy top, cardigan, waxed Barbour jacket… We packed a picnic, knitted a bit, drank champagne, sobered up on Pimms, and had a really good day out.
Anyway, ever since the match, I've been pondering County Cricket Club membership and whether it is worth applying for "County" membership to Surrey. It would entitle me to free entry at all County games and priority booking of tickets for all Internationals. Whilst £150/year isn't expensive to watch one of my favourite sports, it isn't cheap if I don't use it. The Oval is at least an hour and a half away by public transport but their secondary ground at Guildford isn't too difficult to drive to (a lot of miles, though, and then there is parking to consider).
The enticing alternative, of course, is Middlesex County Cricket Club, who at least play some matches locally to our home. And, of course, their main home ground is LORDS the Headquarters of Cricket. The benefits are the same as for Surrey, but up until about half an hour ago, it had never even occurred to me that Middlesex membership might be a possibility. In my mind, I'd been confusing them with the famous "MCC" or Marylebone Cricket Club, with whom Middlesex share Lords. The MCC was never a possibility - it has a twenty year waiting list and then only if you get proposed and seconded by at least 4 existing members. (If you are a billionaire who donates £mega-millions, I'm sure they'll find a way to squeeze you in sooner.) Middlesex, on the other hand, is do-able at £133 plus joining fee.
Decisions, decisions.
However, the question still remains: if I became a club member, would I use it? I want it, but even if it only cost £20, if I don't use it then it won't be worth it. For now, I'll put it on my "wish list" and maybe save up for it via the Sanity Fund. That'll give me a couple of months to review the idea before I have to commit myself (I have to join before October - my BIL wants tickets to next year's Lords' test match between England and Australia).
[ sigh ]
- Pam (I wants it NOW!)
It's summer, so I'm obsessing about Cricket. In particular, the international matches between England vs. New Zealand at the start of the summer, and England vs. South Africa now. If I could, I'd listen to every ball of every game. Sadly, I work in a radio black spot (last year, I purchased a DAB radio just to get Test Match Special but there is no reception here), and the IT Department have blocked radio via the internet.
Kim has "County" membership of Surrey Cricket Club. In June, we treated ourselves to a Girls Day Out - a One Day International at the Oval. It was a day that started with the threat of rain and became hot and sunny, so I went prepared for anything: hiking slacks that convert to shorts (similar to these), strappy top, cardigan, waxed Barbour jacket… We packed a picnic, knitted a bit, drank champagne, sobered up on Pimms, and had a really good day out.
Anyway, ever since the match, I've been pondering County Cricket Club membership and whether it is worth applying for "County" membership to Surrey. It would entitle me to free entry at all County games and priority booking of tickets for all Internationals. Whilst £150/year isn't expensive to watch one of my favourite sports, it isn't cheap if I don't use it. The Oval is at least an hour and a half away by public transport but their secondary ground at Guildford isn't too difficult to drive to (a lot of miles, though, and then there is parking to consider).
The enticing alternative, of course, is Middlesex County Cricket Club, who at least play some matches locally to our home. And, of course, their main home ground is LORDS the Headquarters of Cricket. The benefits are the same as for Surrey, but up until about half an hour ago, it had never even occurred to me that Middlesex membership might be a possibility. In my mind, I'd been confusing them with the famous "MCC" or Marylebone Cricket Club, with whom Middlesex share Lords. The MCC was never a possibility - it has a twenty year waiting list and then only if you get proposed and seconded by at least 4 existing members. (If you are a billionaire who donates £mega-millions, I'm sure they'll find a way to squeeze you in sooner.) Middlesex, on the other hand, is do-able at £133 plus joining fee.
Decisions, decisions.
However, the question still remains: if I became a club member, would I use it? I want it, but even if it only cost £20, if I don't use it then it won't be worth it. For now, I'll put it on my "wish list" and maybe save up for it via the Sanity Fund. That'll give me a couple of months to review the idea before I have to commit myself (I have to join before October - my BIL wants tickets to next year's Lords' test match between England and Australia).
[ sigh ]
- Pam (I wants it NOW!)
Tuesday, 5 August 2008
Did they cover all the bases?
Whilst I was getting my hair cut on Saturday, I caught a glimpse of an article in the Daily Mirror, "Credit Card Family Forced to Live in a Vauxhall Astra".
As it is written, the story just doesn't smell right. This is the UK, where there is a safety net (it's not perfect, but they'd qualify for a lot of assistance that is unavailable in other countries). They get free medical care; free prescriptions for the children and for Laura whilst she's pregnant/until the baby is a year old; ditto free dental care. The seven year old probably qualifies for free school lunches. They'd still have to pay council tax, utilities and telephone bills - no subsidies there.
Unfortunately, this couple won't be the last to have their home repossessed. By failing to answer the above questions, the Mirror missed the chance to subtly educate it's readers by providing sufficient information to help another family to save their home.
- Pam
* "V" registration cars were first registered in 1999.
Whilst I feel very sorry for the couple involved, the article is depressingly short of details. Apart from consulting the Citizen's Advice Bureau, what steps did they take to save their house? There are so many unanswered questions - maybe all those years of hanging around the Motley Fool have made me think differently, but if I'd done the interview these are the things I'd want to know and share with my readers:-A desperate family have been forced to live in their car after having their home repossessed.
Four-months pregnant Laura Whitney, 28, partner Richard Webster, 32, Jessica, seven, and Jack, two, have spent two weeks in their V-reg* Vauxhall Vectra. The couple could no longer pay their £62,500 mortgage, which has a 10.9 per cent interest rate, because their lender increased payments from £373 a month to £553.
- What was their budget pre-reposession?
- And what about income? The article states that his income is £1,000 net a month. She will get child benefit (non-means-tested) of £130+ a month. The father of her first child should also be paying some form of child maintenance (unless, of course, the Child Support Agency is failing at it's job again).
- Did they make partial mortgage payments? Did they neglect other bills and prioritise the mortgage? Or did they leave the mortgage and pay the rest?
- Why isn't Laura working? "Richard works for Royal Mail and I will be happy to work again" is a pretty strong indication that she has been jobless for some time. What steps did she take to find a job before the house was repossessed?
- Do they have other debts? How will they pay those off? Did they prioritise those over the house?
- Did they claim all the relevant tax credits?
As it is written, the story just doesn't smell right. This is the UK, where there is a safety net (it's not perfect, but they'd qualify for a lot of assistance that is unavailable in other countries). They get free medical care; free prescriptions for the children and for Laura whilst she's pregnant/until the baby is a year old; ditto free dental care. The seven year old probably qualifies for free school lunches. They'd still have to pay council tax, utilities and telephone bills - no subsidies there.
Unfortunately, this couple won't be the last to have their home repossessed. By failing to answer the above questions, the Mirror missed the chance to subtly educate it's readers by providing sufficient information to help another family to save their home.
- Pam
* "V" registration cars were first registered in 1999.
Monday, 28 July 2008
Good-bye Molly
This wasn't the post I planned to write tonight - a tale about how, yesterday, I'd got to dividing for the heel of last week's sock and then discovered that in my distraction at the hospital, I'd cast on and knitted 36 EXTRA stitches and hadn't noticed until I'd knitted 72 rows. (How didn't I notice I was knitting something that would fit an elephant instead of DH???)
Anyway, that went out the window when I got back from lunch to find an email from my sister (a.k.a. "Eldest Sis"). Eldest Sis broke the sad news that our Auntie Molly died in her sleep last Thursday, at the age of 89. She'd been living in a nursing home in Brisbane for the last three years. Auntie Molly had been my mum's youngest brother's wife.
I sat there at work feeling sad and distracted and angry. The anger was all directed at my mum for not maintaining closer relationships with her siblings and relations. They were in Brisbane, Sydney and Perth (amongst other places), we were isolated in Melbourne. There wasn't a stream of letters back and forth, nor were there frequent telephone calls (we didn't have a phone until I was at primary school). I don't know why this happened, except possibly due to the tyranny of distance.
I didn't really know my Aunt - and I regret that. I have a handful of memories from when we visited for a week when I was 10; and I spent the afternoon with her on my last trip to Brisbane in 2001.
What I do have are my mum's stories; they had been good friends back in the 1940's and '50s before mum moved down to Melbourne. There are loads of stories: how my tiny 4ft 8" aunt had to stand on a step to kiss her 6ft 4" husband; how she used to shop for her shoes in the children's department, often buying her clothes there, too, when she could get classic styles. Then there was the time mum and Auntie Molly went shopping for maternity clothes, when Molly was 7 months pregnant. A snooty shop assistant instructed mum to take her "sister to the children's department. We don't serve little girls here!". Molly turned around to protest and the shop assistant was rendered speechless.
I will always remember Molly as the matriarch: mother of 6 and grandmother to I-don't-remember-how-many. (Being 8 years younger than her youngest child, I fall somewhere between the two.) When we stayed with them in 1975, there was a big family party in the back garden. All the daughters and daughters-in-law brought food, while the boys manned the barbecue. Auntie Molly sat in the middle whilst the action happened around her, a bit like a conductor in front of an orchestra organising this daughter to fetch something, that daughter-in-law to pass around the plates. She was queen of all she surveyed.
Good-bye Auntie Molly and God-bless.
- Pam
Anyway, that went out the window when I got back from lunch to find an email from my sister (a.k.a. "Eldest Sis"). Eldest Sis broke the sad news that our Auntie Molly died in her sleep last Thursday, at the age of 89. She'd been living in a nursing home in Brisbane for the last three years. Auntie Molly had been my mum's youngest brother's wife.
I sat there at work feeling sad and distracted and angry. The anger was all directed at my mum for not maintaining closer relationships with her siblings and relations. They were in Brisbane, Sydney and Perth (amongst other places), we were isolated in Melbourne. There wasn't a stream of letters back and forth, nor were there frequent telephone calls (we didn't have a phone until I was at primary school). I don't know why this happened, except possibly due to the tyranny of distance.
I didn't really know my Aunt - and I regret that. I have a handful of memories from when we visited for a week when I was 10; and I spent the afternoon with her on my last trip to Brisbane in 2001.
What I do have are my mum's stories; they had been good friends back in the 1940's and '50s before mum moved down to Melbourne. There are loads of stories: how my tiny 4ft 8" aunt had to stand on a step to kiss her 6ft 4" husband; how she used to shop for her shoes in the children's department, often buying her clothes there, too, when she could get classic styles. Then there was the time mum and Auntie Molly went shopping for maternity clothes, when Molly was 7 months pregnant. A snooty shop assistant instructed mum to take her "sister to the children's department. We don't serve little girls here!". Molly turned around to protest and the shop assistant was rendered speechless.
I will always remember Molly as the matriarch: mother of 6 and grandmother to I-don't-remember-how-many. (Being 8 years younger than her youngest child, I fall somewhere between the two.) When we stayed with them in 1975, there was a big family party in the back garden. All the daughters and daughters-in-law brought food, while the boys manned the barbecue. Auntie Molly sat in the middle whilst the action happened around her, a bit like a conductor in front of an orchestra organising this daughter to fetch something, that daughter-in-law to pass around the plates. She was queen of all she surveyed.
Good-bye Auntie Molly and God-bless.
- Pam
Saturday, 26 July 2008
That was the week that was
It's been a disjointed week and this will probably be a disjointed post. On the plus side, we got the remortgage approved (I still don't know for what the house was valued, so I suspect they just said it is worth what we say it is).
On the down side, DH's mum phoned last Saturday evening, "can you take me to hospital?". She'd been vomiting blood. The doctor had prescribed her a long course of anti-inflamatory tablets and she was three weeks in. The drugs had caused a stomach ulcer. We spent four hours in A&E until they finally admitted her to hospital. Apparently her Hb was 5. They gave her two units of blood on the Sunday, a gastroscopy on the Monday and discharged her on the Wednesday. She is much better. Her colour is healthier than it was a month ago.
I spent Saturday night stress knitting while we waited. DH and I'd been getting ready to go to our first Prom Concert of the year when she called, so I had a sock in my bag ready to knit. It calmed me down and kept me waiting patiently.
The knitting had the "appointment effect", too. Have you ever noticed, when you're waiting for an appointment and just get settled into your knitting, they'll call you in faster? Even if you're 15 minutes early? Well, I didn't do more than two rows in succession without someone coming in to the bay to examine my MIL or take blood or give her medication.
I worked from home on Wednesday so that I could collect my MIL from hospital. This is the first time I've seriously tried to do it, plugging the work laptop into our broadband and getting on with the job. (The last time I tried working from home, it was back when I had no work to do.) An interesting experiment. I found that I spent less time on the internet than when I'm sitting in the office. Also that, even losing 2 hours to go to the hospital, I got quite a lot done. (No, I'm not counting the two loads of laundry that line-dried.) The connection to the server was actually faster than the one I have at Site.
There were down sides: not having all my files around was a big one. Not everything has been scanned and stored electronically. Also, being invisible - maybe it's my paranoia, but I think that if you work from home you need to have concrete achievements to show for it because people can't see you on the phone to the client answering questions. Wednesday was a bitty day, one of those that whilst I did a lot, didn't result in much concrete output.
- Pam
On the down side, DH's mum phoned last Saturday evening, "can you take me to hospital?". She'd been vomiting blood. The doctor had prescribed her a long course of anti-inflamatory tablets and she was three weeks in. The drugs had caused a stomach ulcer. We spent four hours in A&E until they finally admitted her to hospital. Apparently her Hb was 5. They gave her two units of blood on the Sunday, a gastroscopy on the Monday and discharged her on the Wednesday. She is much better. Her colour is healthier than it was a month ago.
I spent Saturday night stress knitting while we waited. DH and I'd been getting ready to go to our first Prom Concert of the year when she called, so I had a sock in my bag ready to knit. It calmed me down and kept me waiting patiently.
The knitting had the "appointment effect", too. Have you ever noticed, when you're waiting for an appointment and just get settled into your knitting, they'll call you in faster? Even if you're 15 minutes early? Well, I didn't do more than two rows in succession without someone coming in to the bay to examine my MIL or take blood or give her medication.
I worked from home on Wednesday so that I could collect my MIL from hospital. This is the first time I've seriously tried to do it, plugging the work laptop into our broadband and getting on with the job. (The last time I tried working from home, it was back when I had no work to do.) An interesting experiment. I found that I spent less time on the internet than when I'm sitting in the office. Also that, even losing 2 hours to go to the hospital, I got quite a lot done. (No, I'm not counting the two loads of laundry that line-dried.) The connection to the server was actually faster than the one I have at Site.
There were down sides: not having all my files around was a big one. Not everything has been scanned and stored electronically. Also, being invisible - maybe it's my paranoia, but I think that if you work from home you need to have concrete achievements to show for it because people can't see you on the phone to the client answering questions. Wednesday was a bitty day, one of those that whilst I did a lot, didn't result in much concrete output.
- Pam
Saturday, 19 July 2008
Things that are more valuable than their price
Just over a week ago, I sent the bowl of the food processor crashing to the floor with my elbow. Naturally, with our hard as iron kitchen floor, it broke. After a bit of a search (3 separate attempts), I managed to find a replacement bowl online for £25 plus p&p. Of course, I could have purchased a new food processor but my inner-Fool rebelled at the thought of replacing a perfectly good machine when it only needed one part.
Anyway, it got me thinking about the things that I value far beyond their initial cost and I came up with a list of six things.
Anyway, it got me thinking about the things that I value far beyond their initial cost and I came up with a list of six things.
- As the inspiration, the food processor gets poll position. It gets used at least once a week. I'm always whipping up pancakes or muffins in the blender; cakes, doughs, breadcrumbs and nut-loaves in the main bowl. I don't know how much time or money it has saved me over the years since DH gave it to me as a birthday present, but I do know that there are things I wouldn't make without it to do the hard work.
- The freezer compartment of our side-by-side fridge/freezer. So much of what we buy ends up in the freezer, either deliberately (meat from our quarterly trips to the butcher) or as the consequence of other actions (an excess of lunch boxes filled on the weekend). I do not know how people survive without a decent-sized freezer.
- My little Samsung mobile phone. It's six years old and counting, too old to have a camera or a colour screen. I think it cost £120 new. I'm on pay as you go, so I've never paid a penny of line rental, but I've used it on most of my trips abroad (except to North America - it's dual band, not tri-band). Oh, and calls to Australia cost 20p a minute - is cheaper than using a land-line - always convenient for those "happy birthday" telephone calls to Oz.
- Our microwave-convection oven. Another £120 purchase, but this time 8 years ago. At the time, DH questioned why we needed a combi-oven, when we could pick up a microwave for half the price and we had a large stove with twin ovens (I think my response was an illogical but persuasive "Because I want one!"). Fast forward three years to when we moved into this house and we discovered that there was no 480-volt electric hook up for the stove (the hob is gas, the ovens are electric). Remodelling the kitchen is high on the renovations list, but until then the convection feature is getting a lot of use. I bake cakes in it, cook roasts, grill sausages, make pies, etc, etc. The usuable space is a bit small - at the most 12 inches by 8 high - and my main roasting dish is a 12-inch deep-crust pizza tray, but there isn't much that can't be cooked in there without a little planning.
- Every knitting needle and crochet hook I have ever owned. And the entire contents of the stash. Self explanatory to knitters. For non-knitters: knitting is far more than the act of "making a sweater". There is a large amount of entertainment value in the act of creating something from scratch, particularly if that act involves cables or lace.
- My sewing machine. Ditto point 5. I used to work off Great Portland Street, when it was still nominally London's garment district. Just around the corner from us was a little shop crammed with end-of-roll fabrics for £5 a metre or so. My fabric stash still holds several metres from those days (I have nowhere to sew.) I have made skirt suits from 3 metres of fabric, at a quarter of the cost of comparable items in the shops. Sure, it takes time and effort to sew an outfit but no more so than most people waste watching TV (knitters/crocheters excluded). The sewing machine was a gift from my mum, who taught me to sew when I was in pre-school.
Friday, 18 July 2008
Hurry Up Already!
We are going through the trauma of remortgaging the house. Our five-year fixed rate will expire in September and throw us at the mercy of the bank's variable rate, 3% higher than what we've been paying.
When we bought the house in 2003, we got the longest fixed rate deal we could - they don't do "whole of life" fixed rate mortgages here. Interest rates had bottomed out (the Bank of England base rate fell as low as 3.5%) and started their slow rise again and we thought we were lucky to secure a 4.39% fixed rate for five years. There were only a handful on the market. Several super-optimistic members of the peanut gallery thought we were mad: "What happens if interest rates go down again?" Of course, they never did.
This time around, there are actually some 10-year fixed rate deals around. Or should I say theoretically available. Thanks to the credit crunch and bank paranoia, the actual availability of mortgages changes on an hourly basis. It took our mortgage broker four applications to secure us a potential mortgage - the first three were withdrawn by the time he got the paperwork completed and submitted!
In theory, we have secured a 10-year fixed rate deal at 6.39%. All we need now is the survey. Which brings me to now. This minute. The surveyor is due between 10am and 12am today. It's 10.54 by the computer's clock. And I'm waiting for him to arrive. I wish he'd hurry up!
I HATE waiting.
At the best of times, this whole process has made me an emotional wreck, but the waiting around is making it worse. Everything hangs on the surveyor's visit. Absolutely everything. I won't be happy until he's been, and gone, and confirmed the valuation we want for the house. We need him to appraise the house at a quarter higher than what we paid for it - we are extending the mortgage so that we can do much needed renovations (including new gutters, a new boiler, and proper roof for the kitchen). These aren't luxuries. The flat roof over the kitchen is in a poor state. (Did you know that they use bitumen-covered felt as standard on flat roofs in this country? The life-span is 10 years.) I want to replace it with a proper, pitched roof.
Come on, Mr Surveyor! Hurry Up!
- Pam
When we bought the house in 2003, we got the longest fixed rate deal we could - they don't do "whole of life" fixed rate mortgages here. Interest rates had bottomed out (the Bank of England base rate fell as low as 3.5%) and started their slow rise again and we thought we were lucky to secure a 4.39% fixed rate for five years. There were only a handful on the market. Several super-optimistic members of the peanut gallery thought we were mad: "What happens if interest rates go down again?" Of course, they never did.
This time around, there are actually some 10-year fixed rate deals around. Or should I say theoretically available. Thanks to the credit crunch and bank paranoia, the actual availability of mortgages changes on an hourly basis. It took our mortgage broker four applications to secure us a potential mortgage - the first three were withdrawn by the time he got the paperwork completed and submitted!
In theory, we have secured a 10-year fixed rate deal at 6.39%. All we need now is the survey. Which brings me to now. This minute. The surveyor is due between 10am and 12am today. It's 10.54 by the computer's clock. And I'm waiting for him to arrive. I wish he'd hurry up!
I HATE waiting.
At the best of times, this whole process has made me an emotional wreck, but the waiting around is making it worse. Everything hangs on the surveyor's visit. Absolutely everything. I won't be happy until he's been, and gone, and confirmed the valuation we want for the house. We need him to appraise the house at a quarter higher than what we paid for it - we are extending the mortgage so that we can do much needed renovations (including new gutters, a new boiler, and proper roof for the kitchen). These aren't luxuries. The flat roof over the kitchen is in a poor state. (Did you know that they use bitumen-covered felt as standard on flat roofs in this country? The life-span is 10 years.) I want to replace it with a proper, pitched roof.
Come on, Mr Surveyor! Hurry Up!
- Pam
Wednesday, 9 July 2008
Coffee, I smell coffee
You don't have to be around me for long to learn that I love my coffee. I don't mind if it is instant or filter, but it has to be good coffee - none of those "International Ghost" pot scrapings for me! I frequently refer to it as "the elixir of life" and claim not to be human until I've had two cups in the morning (not strictly true, my work blend is half decaf).
I am not a coffee snob. The only reason I have a cafetiere at work is because their instant coffee tastes truly disgusting. At home, we drink own-brand, freeze-dried instant coffee most of the time, keeping the freshly-ground filter coffee to savour on the weekends. Our coffee beans are French, but only because Carefour's own brand beans are cheapest around. (Three kilos for less than €10 almost justifies the travel costs to Calais.)
Several years ago, I was lucky enough to go coffee-tasting for work. At the time, I worked for a cosmetic surgery clinic and we were tasked with finding a cheaper source of supply for tea and coffee. Maureen and I thought it was a good excuse so we went to the Monmouth Street Coffee House for a session in their tasting room. I learnt about the different roasts and how they affect the flavour; the different tastes which come from the various varieties of beans and how that taste changes depending on the roast; why coffee should be stored in the fridge or freezer; why it goes "off" fifteen minutes after brewing; that water decaffeination should be the process of choice when you are buying decaffeinated beans; etc, etc. (If you are ever in London, find the time for a visit. It's well worth it.*)
All of this is a long preamble to explain what kept waking me up on Saturday morning. We had friends staying over; I went to bed around midnight, DH came to bed some time after 3. I woke up at 4.30am, smelling coffee. My first thought was that DH had ground the coffee for the morning and the smell was drifting up the stairs.
The next time I woke up, I thought "That coffee smells strong, someone must have switched on the pot". I looked at the clock, discovered it was 5.30am (so highly unlikely), and went back to sleep before I could puzzle that one out. The coffee smell kept getting stronger. And kept waking me up! Somewhere in my sleep befuddled brain, I discounted the coffee pot theory and decided that DH must have got ground coffee on his hands. But I couldn't smell coffee on him. I puzzled this one for a while, drifting in and out of sleep.
When I finally woke up properly, the coffee smell had dissipated. In the kitchen, I discovered that DH hadn't ground any coffee. More puzzlement. Looking out the window, I saw that it had rained earlier. Slowly, very slowly the penny dropped. D'oh!
Mental head-slap time! We live 3 miles from an instant coffee factory. Normally, you can't smell it here, but when it's about to rain you can. The one thing that hadn't occurred to my sleep befuddled brain was that I was smelling the coffee company! It must have been quite a storm, because the smell was the strongest I have ever smelt.
- Pam (Coffee? You called?)
* If you are into tea, then Fortnum & Masons is the best place to go to taste a wide variety of teas. Their Afternoon Teas are good, too.
I am not a coffee snob. The only reason I have a cafetiere at work is because their instant coffee tastes truly disgusting. At home, we drink own-brand, freeze-dried instant coffee most of the time, keeping the freshly-ground filter coffee to savour on the weekends. Our coffee beans are French, but only because Carefour's own brand beans are cheapest around. (Three kilos for less than €10 almost justifies the travel costs to Calais.)
Several years ago, I was lucky enough to go coffee-tasting for work. At the time, I worked for a cosmetic surgery clinic and we were tasked with finding a cheaper source of supply for tea and coffee. Maureen and I thought it was a good excuse so we went to the Monmouth Street Coffee House for a session in their tasting room. I learnt about the different roasts and how they affect the flavour; the different tastes which come from the various varieties of beans and how that taste changes depending on the roast; why coffee should be stored in the fridge or freezer; why it goes "off" fifteen minutes after brewing; that water decaffeination should be the process of choice when you are buying decaffeinated beans; etc, etc. (If you are ever in London, find the time for a visit. It's well worth it.*)
All of this is a long preamble to explain what kept waking me up on Saturday morning. We had friends staying over; I went to bed around midnight, DH came to bed some time after 3. I woke up at 4.30am, smelling coffee. My first thought was that DH had ground the coffee for the morning and the smell was drifting up the stairs.
The next time I woke up, I thought "That coffee smells strong, someone must have switched on the pot". I looked at the clock, discovered it was 5.30am (so highly unlikely), and went back to sleep before I could puzzle that one out. The coffee smell kept getting stronger. And kept waking me up! Somewhere in my sleep befuddled brain, I discounted the coffee pot theory and decided that DH must have got ground coffee on his hands. But I couldn't smell coffee on him. I puzzled this one for a while, drifting in and out of sleep.
When I finally woke up properly, the coffee smell had dissipated. In the kitchen, I discovered that DH hadn't ground any coffee. More puzzlement. Looking out the window, I saw that it had rained earlier. Slowly, very slowly the penny dropped. D'oh!
Mental head-slap time! We live 3 miles from an instant coffee factory. Normally, you can't smell it here, but when it's about to rain you can. The one thing that hadn't occurred to my sleep befuddled brain was that I was smelling the coffee company! It must have been quite a storm, because the smell was the strongest I have ever smelt.
- Pam (Coffee? You called?)
* If you are into tea, then Fortnum & Masons is the best place to go to taste a wide variety of teas. Their Afternoon Teas are good, too.
Tuesday, 8 July 2008
Date to remember
Most people remember where they were on September 11th 2001, how they heard the news, who they were with, etc. For Londoners, yesterday, the 7th July, was another of those dates. Yesterday was the third anniversary of the London Bombings in 2005.
It sounds cliched but I can remember exactly where I was and what I did for the whole day. I was working from home in the morning, waiting for my new laptop and printer to be delivered. To use my work laptop, I had to plug it into the phone socket (it was still on dial-up), so I was tethered to the sofa, with the TV on in the background. BBC1 was showing one of it's house-buying programs.
The first mention of the bombings was from the delivery man who brought the printer (the laptop arrived separately, later). It was about 9.50am. He said there'd been an explosion on the Underground. My first thought: "Oh, God. Don't let it be our fault!". (The engineers I worked for had multiple large contracts with London Underground.)
At 10am, the news came on the TV and I watched as the truth emerged. Four explosions. Three different tube trains and a bus.
The laptop arrived at around 11am. This delivery man was less chatty. Worried. Frightened even.
I packed up and drove to work. Even though I was listening to the car radio, I remember an absence of noise. There was very little traffic and everyone was driving slowly. Nobody was in the fast lane. Everywhere, the matrix signs read:
Avoid Central London
Roads Closed
Turn on Radio
On the opposite side of the M25 a string of Surrey Ambulances headed towards the M4.
At work, the emergency plans had come into action. The IT department where I worked had set up a call centre, helping HR to track down every member of staff who either worked in our London offices or was known to be up in Town for a meeting. By 2pm, all heads were accounted for. Nobody was missing. Or injured. Nobody had immediate family among the victims.
By 3pm, our CEO had emailed every member of staff (all 15,000 of us) informing us that even if he had to walk there, he would be working in our Central London office for the next few days. And so would all the members of the Management Board. He left unspoken that if the board members didn't make it in, they wouldn't have jobs. But we all knew. I've always liked him for that - he wouldn't put the staff through anything he wasn't prepared to face himself.
I drove a colleague home that afternoon. He was quite shaken up, one of the more sensitive types. I think he'd have liked to have had a cry, if he could have got away with it. There were many people who felt like that on 7/7.
- Pam
It sounds cliched but I can remember exactly where I was and what I did for the whole day. I was working from home in the morning, waiting for my new laptop and printer to be delivered. To use my work laptop, I had to plug it into the phone socket (it was still on dial-up), so I was tethered to the sofa, with the TV on in the background. BBC1 was showing one of it's house-buying programs.
The first mention of the bombings was from the delivery man who brought the printer (the laptop arrived separately, later). It was about 9.50am. He said there'd been an explosion on the Underground. My first thought: "Oh, God. Don't let it be our fault!". (The engineers I worked for had multiple large contracts with London Underground.)
At 10am, the news came on the TV and I watched as the truth emerged. Four explosions. Three different tube trains and a bus.
The laptop arrived at around 11am. This delivery man was less chatty. Worried. Frightened even.
I packed up and drove to work. Even though I was listening to the car radio, I remember an absence of noise. There was very little traffic and everyone was driving slowly. Nobody was in the fast lane. Everywhere, the matrix signs read:
Avoid Central London
Roads Closed
Turn on Radio
On the opposite side of the M25 a string of Surrey Ambulances headed towards the M4.
At work, the emergency plans had come into action. The IT department where I worked had set up a call centre, helping HR to track down every member of staff who either worked in our London offices or was known to be up in Town for a meeting. By 2pm, all heads were accounted for. Nobody was missing. Or injured. Nobody had immediate family among the victims.
By 3pm, our CEO had emailed every member of staff (all 15,000 of us) informing us that even if he had to walk there, he would be working in our Central London office for the next few days. And so would all the members of the Management Board. He left unspoken that if the board members didn't make it in, they wouldn't have jobs. But we all knew. I've always liked him for that - he wouldn't put the staff through anything he wasn't prepared to face himself.
I drove a colleague home that afternoon. He was quite shaken up, one of the more sensitive types. I think he'd have liked to have had a cry, if he could have got away with it. There were many people who felt like that on 7/7.
- Pam
Wednesday, 2 July 2008
"UK life costs 'at least £13,400'."
The BBC Breakfast program this morning was all about a report from the Joseph Rowntree Foundation on how much a reasonable standard of living costs in Britain today. Apparently, for a single person it's £13,400 per annum.
I found the budgets fascinating. They used focus groups to establish what would make a reasonable budget for each group to live on, right down to a shopping list for groceries and the component amortized cost of the dustpan and brush used in the kitchen. The groups also decided what was a luxury item (and, therefore excluded) and what is a necessity.
The closest thing for us, I guess is the budget for a couple with two children. Total cost per week, excluding childcare £435.96. I've found myself studying the lists and comparing our real life to them.
Mr and Mrs Average spend more than we do on food and drink, eating many more biscuits (that's cookies for you Americans) and preprepared foodstuffs than we do. However, we spend double on housing costs - they pay about a third of our mortgage payment in rent. And I'm not sure if the assumption that the Averages live in a "band B" council house is viable. Since the big sell-off of council homes in the 1980's (sold to their occupants at a deep discount), getting council housing has been well nigh impossible for anyone with a reasonable income. The BBC were quoting living costs of £27,000 per annum for a couple with two children, which is approximately the average salary in the UK. At that level, the council housing officers would expect the Averages to rent private housing.
(NB: The "band B" thing is council tax, our local property based tax. Housing is banded based on values and each property of a certain type in an area is considered to be in the same band and is, therefore, taxed at the same rateable value. If the Averages have your standard three bedroom British house, it would fall into band D, at twice the amount in the budget.)
On the clothing front, I spend less than the £516 per annum clothing budget Mrs Average is expected to spend. If she asked me, I'd suggest that a) she shops the charity shops for some things, and b) she gets up at 4am on the 27th December and goes to the Next sale (doors open at 5am) for work clothes and smart casual stuff. That would give her more for money.
My favourite item from Mr Average's clothing budget is the £5 woollen hat, which is estimated to last for 5 years. Somehow, I don't think so - if it really is wool, it would cost more than that (even if Mrs Average did the necessary with the needles). And why does he have walking boots when his wife doesn't? And wellies, ditto.
OK, I've had my bit of fun. On the whole, I think these budgets are far more realistic than the figures the government bandy around and use to set benefits such as the state pension and unemployment benefit. At least with these budgets, you can live.
- Pam
"A single person in Britain needs to earn at least £13,400 a year before tax for a minimum standard of living, the Joseph Rowntree Foundation (JRF) says.
A couple with two children need to spend £370 a week and a pensioner couple need £201 excluding housing and childcare costs, the charity says."
(see: http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/business/7481927.stm)
I found the budgets fascinating. They used focus groups to establish what would make a reasonable budget for each group to live on, right down to a shopping list for groceries and the component amortized cost of the dustpan and brush used in the kitchen. The groups also decided what was a luxury item (and, therefore excluded) and what is a necessity.
The closest thing for us, I guess is the budget for a couple with two children. Total cost per week, excluding childcare £435.96. I've found myself studying the lists and comparing our real life to them.
Mr and Mrs Average spend more than we do on food and drink, eating many more biscuits (that's cookies for you Americans) and preprepared foodstuffs than we do. However, we spend double on housing costs - they pay about a third of our mortgage payment in rent. And I'm not sure if the assumption that the Averages live in a "band B" council house is viable. Since the big sell-off of council homes in the 1980's (sold to their occupants at a deep discount), getting council housing has been well nigh impossible for anyone with a reasonable income. The BBC were quoting living costs of £27,000 per annum for a couple with two children, which is approximately the average salary in the UK. At that level, the council housing officers would expect the Averages to rent private housing.
(NB: The "band B" thing is council tax, our local property based tax. Housing is banded based on values and each property of a certain type in an area is considered to be in the same band and is, therefore, taxed at the same rateable value. If the Averages have your standard three bedroom British house, it would fall into band D, at twice the amount in the budget.)
On the clothing front, I spend less than the £516 per annum clothing budget Mrs Average is expected to spend. If she asked me, I'd suggest that a) she shops the charity shops for some things, and b) she gets up at 4am on the 27th December and goes to the Next sale (doors open at 5am) for work clothes and smart casual stuff. That would give her more for money.
My favourite item from Mr Average's clothing budget is the £5 woollen hat, which is estimated to last for 5 years. Somehow, I don't think so - if it really is wool, it would cost more than that (even if Mrs Average did the necessary with the needles). And why does he have walking boots when his wife doesn't? And wellies, ditto.
OK, I've had my bit of fun. On the whole, I think these budgets are far more realistic than the figures the government bandy around and use to set benefits such as the state pension and unemployment benefit. At least with these budgets, you can live.
- Pam
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