Automated Attack Monkeys, Scalpel Mines, & Acid

So we're on the final stretch of moving house now, and that means ringing up to change address with lots of people. Singled out for how well they did with this are Smile bank (as usual - their customer service is always awesome); Joe at BBC magazines for Holly's doctor who magazine, and Leroy at Yorkshire Water. All of these dealt with me in a friendly and efficient manner, and were speaking like human beings.

Singled out for how awful they were are Virgin media, where the poor girl on the other end had to stick to a script even though we both knew it wasn't helping, and tv licensing, where nobody answered the phone at all, and the automated person told me that I wouldn't be recieving any confirmation by any other means, I just had to take her automated word for it that my address had been changed successfully. Seriously, TV Licensing people, when I'm risking a thousand pound fine if my details are wrong, I want to check and double check that everything is correct, not go through an automated system and then not get written confirmation.

... has been added to my f-locked contact details post. If you think you should be able to see it and you can't give me a holler, but bear in mind that it might take me a bit to answer as I flit between houses.

You guys should see the oven in the new place. It's one of these. It's AWESOME.

Anyway, must dash, got stuff to do...

I've been doing mine. It's very depressing. Things like clothes and dentistry and new glasses come under can't afford this right now, which is very annoying because I really need a new bra. BUT I can make it balance, and still afford to go climbing with my dad and do Liberal Drinks once a month, as long as I am very very careful, and also save all my tips from work instead of drinking them. This is not going to be easy.

Still, Mat is doing paid work today, and we have a paid blog redesign project to do together, so there is light at the end of the tunnel...

For those of you who don't know, we live in a back-to-back terraced house. This is the Victorian version of a block of flats (or apartment block, for those of you living in the colonies). In contradiction to what it says in the linked Wikipedia article, we have great light and ventilation (huge south-facing sash windows), and the construction of the building is much sturdier and thicker than anything post-war I have been in. None-the less, we are slightly affected by our neighbours. Because the walls are very thick Yorkshire stone, we're not much affected by noise, but we don't have to bother putting the heating on in winter, because one of our neighbours likes her house at tropical temperatures...

Having said all that, this morning we have been disturbed in our lounging in bed and listening to radio 4 by hammering from the house behind. Because of the walls it wasn't very loud, but it was noticeable. Resigned to the fact that dozing was over, we were having a little chat about various things, when suddenly the hammering stopped. Shortly thereafter it was followed by a sort of collapsing, cascading noise.

Much giggling ensued.

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I have Achieved Things again today; I built my new bed (YAY it's very comfy!) and did a shift at work and actually PUT SOME CLOTHES IN MY WARDROBE!!! And bought Megabus tickets. matgb is coming up here for Spring Bank weekend (in which there will be beer festival and live music at work and hopefully lots of sex to break in new bed yay!), and then the weekend after I will be moseying down to That London to go to Tate Late and fangirl Shami Chakrabati and Mark Thomas.

Does anyone else have difficulty, when small children are watching Postman Pat, in refraining from singing the rude versions of the theme tune?

ETA: ( ka-boom ka-boom ah! )