Too much month left at the end of the money?

I work for the NHS. I do a desk job and use email ALL the time. I can use the NHS Trust email for my hospital network or I can use the more secure nationwide NHSMAIL system.
I must not send information which can identify a specific person, outside of the hospital system unless I use the secure NHSmail system or I encrypt the information in a .zip file and use the Trust system.
I don't normally use the NHSmail system as it has a short time out and a long log in process (reasons why it is so secure).
I want to send secure patient info to an NHSmail address so I elect to encrpt into a .zip file and send it.

NHSmail does not accept .zip files as a security precaution.

Sensible and worthy - but BLOODY frustrating. No wonder people cut corners and patient information gets out into the public domain.

Enough of work.

Mrs Hammer, me and Mr Fink went to Waiting For Katherine's latest gig, a charity affair which was so lively and well attended, we had a right royal rave up. Can't wait till March when they play the biggest arena in the area. It's going to be mega.

Having an old friend for dinner

Last week the printer tried my patience, conking out so much I had to call the engineer in twice in 2 days, I'm sure he thinks I fancy him.
This week started badly, Monday 3 doctors complained to me about the duties I had set for them, some rightly and some wrongly. Tuesday we had a clinic of patients waiting and the doctor did not arrive - this is highly unusual, I was getting worried for his welfare as they always inform us if they are going to be late. My colleagues made alternative arrangements for the waiting patients who were mostly understanding...apart from one man who became argumentative. I appreciate how frustrating it must have been to be waiting for the doctor however, all the patients were given regular updates as to what was happening, alternative arrangements were made and the people the man was moaning at were the ones helping him. Did the man come back and moan to the doctor who thought he had booked Tuesday as leave? No of course not. Grrrr.
Wednesday i had computer problems, the spreadsheet I use to help me in my job is like a bible, I'd be utterly lost with  out it. today it wouldn't open. The error, "spreadsheet is locked and in use by user...Mrs Fink" Oh no it's not. anyway this went on for most of the day. Grrrr.
Today i find some of the info I added to the spreadsheet last week is missing. OH NO! disaster. Thankfully one of the ladies that used to work in the department came to take me out for lunch at the local Chinese buffet. I laughed long and loud, it was great to catch up. I returned, sorted the spreadsheet problem and came home!

All in all a tough week, but I'm not complaining, a year ago I would have been crying, unable to cope and heading out of the door, never to return. Amazing what a little white pill a day can do?

You can take the girl out of Colney...

Yesterday Mr Fink whisked me off to a wonderful warehouse full of junk. It was officially a 'Vintage Emporium' but looked like an old auction house/warehouse/Aladdin's cave.
We wandered round, recognising various artefacts from our youth and one or two from the antiques roadshow.
The warehouse is split up into 20/30 booths where different vendors show off their wares.
As i was wandering round, i happened across a 9 year old local girl (I could tell she was local by her posh accent and the way she and her mum were behaving!) riding a vintage tricycle up and down the gangway. "Jocasta, please put that away." said the mum (all pashmina and cashmere'd up against the weather).
"mummy, why are you so grumpy...you never let me have fun..I'm bored...when are we going home...why are you grumpy...mummy....mummy....speak to me mummy."
Well, we've all been in those situations and usually good taste, Englishness and the fear of reprisal prevents our inner mind from speaking out. Not me. As the girl continued her whining insistence, i could stand it no longer.
I spoke out in a loud clear voice, which echoed throughout the building.
"CHILD. GIVE IT A REST!"
As the child and mum walked away, I heard mum say, "Well, there's no need to be cross with me."
I eventually found Mr Fink and over a wonderful cup of tea I asked if he heard me chastise the girl. he said,
"I thought to myself, 'that sounds like Mrs Fink'!"

Help! I've been hexed.

Saturday morning I was due to collect one of my longest serving friends (Cornish Pisky, and her daughter, LMI) and bring her to my house for lunch and a chin wag. The last time we have arranged to meet, I totally forgot and went shopping instead of picking her up. Oopsie.
So I'm charging round the house trying to get ready and get Little Fink ready. Anyway I'm just about to go out the door when Little Fink announces she needs her shoes........"We are late, hurry up!" i shout. again, just about out of the door and she now needs her socks. AAARGH, the trials of the preteen.
"That's it, I'm going." I head out to the car and drive away.
As I travel, I get 2 text messages, on arrival at Cornish Pisky's house i check the phone, message from Little Fink... "That was a stupid thing to do." The second message, again from her, "I hope you get a speeding ticket."
Bloomin' cheek. So when my friends and I arrived home i told Little Fink I got caught by a speed camera and it was her fault because she hexed me. i explained I would have to swallow the points but she would be ultimately be paying the £60 fine out of the Christmas present money I had set aside for her gift.
Oh yeah - don't mess whit da Mommy!!

(We did laugh about it afterwards.)

Has the World Gone Mad?

Geddit?

White Fish fillets (Yes, I'm trying to single handedly preserve our cod and haddock stocks) the allergy advice says...contains fish. Well I damn well hope it does, that's why I bought a bag of frozen FISH!

Having said that, when I opened the bag of frozen pollock fillets, it stinks of fish. I know fish smells but is frozen fish meant to smell so strong? Not very appetising I have to say.

Don't even get me started on the warnings on peanuts!

It Beggars Belief!!!!!!!

Little Fink has started another club, Lacrosse. You know, where the children charge around a cold, muddy field at a hundred miles an hour waving big wooden sticks at a medium sized (very frightened) plastic ball.

She has also been playing 'tag rugby' in PE. Again, children charging around a cold, muddy field at a hundred miles an hour, trying to rip a tag off any child that gets in range.

The first week the children's trainers were so muddy, the teacher refused to allow the trainers into the classroom (they had just had new carpet fitted in class) so the children were asked to leave them outside. It rained. So we had wet muddy trainers - two days on the trot - Lacrosse on Monday and Rugger on Tuesday. So I decided, footy boots would be the answer, made for the job, help grip the field and easy to clean. So I bought a pair.

Monday at Lacrosse club she wore them for the first time and raved about how grippy they were. I raved because they were easy to clean.

Today for rugby, she was told by the teacher that she is not allowed to wear the boots for school lacrosse lessons or school rugby lessons but she is allowed to wear them for lacrosse club after school. No reason was given.

I'm furious. Watch this space.

What the crocodile hat, was that?

I work with and for consultants at the hospital. I am the head consultant's Pa. I know my place.

A few weeks ago a consultant asked me to fill in his expenses and travel claims from June to present day - working out his journey to and from 4 hospitals every day for 4 months. I said I was very busy and would try.

I have been very busy and didn't get it done. I even brought it home to do in the evenings, when I thought, hang on, this is above and beyond the call of duty.

Before I got chance to tell the consultant I would not be able to complete his expenses, he phoned today. He asked me to get the expenses in quick as if they are left too long, he can't claim them!!! What the crocodile hat is that all about?

Look out Cornwall, here we come

Next week, Big Mac, AbuDhabi, Mr Fink, Little Fink, LMI, Pisky and Mr Pisky will be in Cornwall for our annual week of fun in the sun. Did I say sun? Silly me, last year we had 70mph winds, bent tent poles and abandoned tents all around us.

I've checked the weather report and it says there will be rain and showers with the possibility of GALES.

OH COME ON, GIVE ME A BREAK!

Also, I was checking the local news. See the picture, do you know what it is? It's a Portuguese Man Of War. A stinging jellyfish type thing. Some were found 20 miles from where we will be staying, on Monday. Luckily, next week when we are there, it will be so flipping cold, none of will be going any where NEAR the sea!!!

Do you practice to be this obtuse or does it come naturally?

Right, here is today's tale of woe and pain. Are you sitting comfortably? Yes?, then I'll begin.

I work at the local hospital. I park my car at the local park and get on the hospital-provided shuttle bus that drives back and forth from the park to the hospital to the park to the hospital etc etc. This saves on parking spaces at the hospital.

The timetable for the bus is listed on the hospital intranet along with the timetables for the other 8-9 buses that travel between the hospital sites.

A couple of times I have worked late and aimed to catch the 1820 bus back to the park to pick up my car. Each time there has been no bus and I have fumed, I mean, walked back to the park.

Today I spoke to the drive about this, he said he finishes at 1730 and there are no more buses after that. I checked the timetable, the bus is supposed to run until 2030?????

So I phoned the NHS transport department - they look after the drivers, design the routes and control the timetables, to try and get to the bottom of the great timetable mystery.

I asked the lady what time the last bus went from the hospital to the park. A simple question? No. She gave me the details of every other bus the Trust runs except mine. As I explained for the hundredth time ITS THE BUS FROM THE HOSPITAL TO THE PARK, not another hospital, THE PARK. she said, "I've got one here that runs from the hospital to the park, it could be that one?". "Yeeeeeees" I said, what I meant was, "YOU DON'T THINK???". "Which day are you interested in?" she asked. "Everyday, it runs every week day." She then stated in triumph, "Half past one, that's the last bus." I argued for a little while that I nearly always get the 1445 bus, 90% of the time I will get the 1445 bus, but she was insistent that the last bus was at 1330.

I was getting really mad by this time. "Is there another page of numbers, more information?" "Nope, nothing, nada, niet." I am feeling exasperated now and running out of patience at her constant dimness, so I throw in my trump card, "Please can you tell me who I am speaking with?" I find this tends to focus people's attention when I'm getting nowhere on the phone. "Hang on" shad she. Christ, I thought, she doesn't even know her own name and she's gone off to ask someone.

"She came back to the phone and said (and this is totally true), "This isn't the Transport Department." "WHAT! WHAT! What is it then?" I shouted. "It's the switchboard, we take over from the transport department when they go home at 1630." (Struth on a bike.)

I asked what time they wake up in the morning (an attempt at levity and humour - will I never learn?) and she said, "Who?"

"Never mind," said I and disconnected the call.

Geez, is it me? (Then I met a man in the charity shop who told me his ambition was to be on The Grumpy Old Men TV programme! Natch!)

Whatever next

I moan about the children in my local area being 'a bit rough and ready'. Some of them have an uphill struggle ahead to make a good life for themselves due to the people that are bringing them up and the way they are spoken to by their parents. I know most of the 'usual suspects' by name and actually like most of them and hope they make something of themselves rather than follow the path of least resistance like a lot of the people they look up to.

You may think I'm a snob, you may think I am stuck up. I like to think I am on the side of the children. Example - tonight after we had dropped Little Fink's kit off at the Scout Hut ready for Cub Camp tomorrow, we went to put the car in the garage and I noticed a boy on the roof. I had a word with him about how dangerous it was and how he could fall through. He took my advice with good grace and looked a little sheepish. Little Fink went out to play with him and one of her girl friends.

I happened to look out of the window at them playing ans saw he was swinging a long stick around, it was 8.30pm and I thought Little Fink should be coming in anyway so I called her in.

I saw that the 9 year old boy didn't have a long stick, he had something else. Can you guess what it was? Bet you can't...

Yes, it's an epee, a fencing sword, a real one. 

He 'found' it, along with another one, apparently the other one was gone when he went back for it. He, Little Fink, her friend and I had a little chat and we all decided it would be best if he handed the sword over to me to be disposed of, rather than him getting arrested for having an offensive weapon!!! HE IS 9 years old!

You couldn't make it up.

 

In for a Penny...

After the recent revelations about MP's expenses claims. I'll be going to vote on June 4th (Local County Council and European elections), but I won't be putting my 'X' in any box, I'll be placing a sad face on my paper to show I was enthusiastic enough to go and vote but that I have no confidence in any of the people on the list to represent me. Hopefully this will be a small show of the 'people's displeasure' at the greed and corruption in our political system. 

(Well I would if I were not in Spain soaking up the sun on the 4th, that is!)

The thing that REALLY gets my goat is, not that they lied or made mistakes or that the advice they got was wrong on what and how to claim, but the fact that they claim at all. The rest of us pay a mortgage, 2 if we have 2 houses, we pay stamp duty, for food, for cleaners, for duck islands - if we want those things, we pay for them out of the money we earn. Why should MP's be any different? Why do they think it is their given right to be reimbursed for the things that the rest of us know we have to stick our hands in our pockets for??

(They are not the only ones either. I am constantly surprised and a little bit sickened but just how much some of the 'top' people in my job claim expenses for. The most highly paid people in the organisation claim the most - it just smacks of greed. One chap even claimed, quite legally (I am told) for travelling expenses incurred on attending the interview for his current job - how cheeky?)

Rant over. thank you for listening.

Yoghurt, fire alarms and shouting

They say things come in threes.

1. I took a delicious Madagascan Vanilla yogurt to work for my breakfast. I opened my bag with anticipation at the thick creamy treat I was about to enjoy. NAH, something must have rested on the carton and squashed it. The top had burst and yogurt had exploded all over the inside of my bag. Deep joy. I cleaned it up and as one of my friends says, "Look for the silver lining"...at least my bag smells nice - I hope it lasts and doesn't turn sour.

2. The fire alarms went off at the hospital where i work today. The patients were ushered out, fire engines zooming around and lots of general mayhem going on. (Pity the poor patient stuck in the middle of an MRI machine at the time.) While all this cacophony of noise and people was going on, a patient approached me and asked, "Do you think my 2 o clock appointment will be late?" I surveyed the seven shades of chaos around me, turned to the man, gestured at the melee with my hands and said gently, "Sir, i would almost certainly guarantee it."

3. Little Fink's first netball game at the local sport centre. the chaps tried hard but were soundly beaten, lots of healthy encouragement from the sidelines by the parents. As the children were taking a drinks break between matches, the panic alarm on the nearby tanning booth kept going off, much to the annoyance to the sociopathic receptionist (she and I have history). She tutted, stomped up the corridor, made sure no one was dying in the booth, shut the door and reset the alarm. A few minutes later the alarm went off again. As she marched back to her desk and throne, she said, loud enough for the parents to hear, "Those kids keep setting that off, I don't know WHO is supposed to be looking after them?" I had been watching the booth. As the children were running up and down,. the vibration was causing the door to open and this must have somehow set off the alarm, none of the kids went in. So as she uttered her accusation, I took it personally. "THOSE KIDS as you say, are not setting the alarm off, there is no one in there, you want to get your facts right before you start accusing the children." She said, "Don't you shout at me." (bare in mind there are 4 teams of 9 x 11-year-olds along with parents and coaches talking, yelling and encouraging, in the background). "I've got to shout to be heard over this din." quoth I. she just sat and festered. I've got a good mind to write to the sports centre about her anti social attitude. She acts like we are intruding on her domain instead of being helpful and welcoming. well she doesn't know but I've hexed her good and proper. Boy is she going to be surprised when she wakes up with that boil in the most uncomfortable place for a receptionist!

Shouty Grandad starts the revolution

You may think Shouty Grandad has been laying low, keeping quiet? No, he is still causing aggro and pain to the general populace, especially those nameless, worker bees that are the front line of our commercial world. Only Shouty Grandad would ask a Sainsbury's shopfloor worker why the bread has gone up 5p in the last week. We all know, these people (and I have served my time as one of them) are not 'in the know' they are the thin blue line that meets the public but has the least information about the service or product.

Pity, then, the cold caller on the phone, probably in Delhi or Calcutta, phoning random English phones until someone, in the middle of The Horse of The Year Show (thank you very much) answers the phone. The legend that is...Shouty Grandad.

The lady from the land to the East is trying to get Shouty Grandad to change his electric and gas supplier to the company that she represents. She tells him how she can match his current supplier's bill and better it (don't forget she is having to repeat everything she says 3 times and at varying speeds as Shouty Grandad can only understand the very Northern and very local accents)! He then launches the fightback, the arsenal of Shouty Grandad, his humongous knowledge of all things financial. He asks her how many therms he gets at the initial price, how many at the second, how does this relate to his current supplier, what discount for cash. etc etc. in the end he blinds her with science. As his parting shot, he says.. "I wouldn't change over my power supplier on the strength of a phone call anyway, I need to sit and work out your prices."

And in her best angry Asian voice, she shouts, "WHAT ARE YOU WASTE MY TIME?!"

Now she knows how it feels. It's a small step Shouty Grandad, but it is the start of the fight back, the revolution!

I'll hex the lot of 'em

Right an update.

Filofax - lost, now found

Christmas cards - half done

Parcel, delivered, disappeared, denied, returned to sender, re posted - watch this space

Credit card - cloned, stopped by bank.

I had a phone call last night from a polite lady purporting to be from my bank's fraud department. She wanted to talk to me about my credit card which ends in 1234.

She wanted to ask me some security questions to make sure I was the card holder. (she phoned me remember) I confirmed my name, address and date of birth (all readily available on the internet). She asked me what the current limit on my overdraft was, I told her I wasn't going to tell her that as I had no proof of who she was. She assured me she was genuine, "I'm C.... and I'm here in Peterborough." I had the devil in me and was out to prove a point, "Yes, and my name is Mickey Mouse and I'm sitting in an igloo at the North Pole. Do you see my point?"

She suggested I phone in on a number she would give me. "But that could just be your friend sitting in the room next door. I know, you tell me what my mother's maiden name is, the Bank knows that." She didn't have access to that information. She suggested I phone the number on the back of my card. Success. i thanked her and rang the number.

Oh how I bet she laughed.

I was transferred at least 6 times....push 1 now....push 4 now...push 3 now, it was like having a baby. I got through to a human who put me through to the fraud department. It rang and rang and rang. I can see them all now, probably 4 in the room, all laughing and pointing at the phone saying, "That will teach you to be smart with us!" anyway they eventually answered the phone and the upshot is, my credit card details have been copied. They have stopped the card, refunded the erroneous amounts and will send me a new card. (I thanked them profusely.)

So, in the run up to Christmas, the busiest 2 weeks of the shopping year, when more money changes hands than at any other time - how long till my new card comes? 10-14 days. argh.

How will it be sent? ROYAL MAIL. NNNNNNNNNNNNNoooooooooooooooooooooooo.

Never to be seen again no doubt. Goodbye cruel world.

On a happier note - Little Fink has had a story published, achieved her yellow belt at Ju-Jitsu and has just spent the 40 minutes before bed making a dodecahedron calendar. Don't ask!

Where the heck is it then?

It's Christmas. I've been doing my shopping online as i can't bear going to the shops. I bought a gift from Ebay for Little Fink. I waited a week and the item had not arrived. The seller had sent me an email to say he sent it on the 23rd Nov and the number to track the delivery is AB123456123456AB. HOORAY. What a superstar, how sensible a chap to track the delivery.

I typed the reference number in the Royal Mail tracker, "We attempted to deliver your item on 26th Nov. A 'While you were out' note was put through your door, please collect from your depot or arrange redelivery via the internet." note? what note?

I jumped on the internet and arranged for the item to be delivered to my local Post Office. I received the email confirming the redelivery request and was ready to pick up parcel on Dec 2 (my birthday).

I went to the local Post Office, "Hello, do you have a parcel for me?" Lady, "No, he hasn't been yet." Me, "Oh, what time does he come?" Her, ~"Anytime, can be anytime." Me - "Thank you, I'll come back tomorrow."

I left it a few days, went back. No parcel. yesterday (7th Dec) I went to the main depot, No parcel, no indication that the parcel had ever been in the depot, it is a ghost parcel. Also checked at the local Post Office. nope, nada.

I've emailed the seller, he is sympathetic to my plight. has sent me a scan of the receipt of postage and the tracking document.

I only hope they have sent it back to him and he will send it on eventually.

My favourite part of the story is the response I got from Customer Services for Royal mail. they don't publish a phone number so you can phone the depot and see if your parcel is there, you have to drive there and fight for the 3 (yes 3) parking spaces to get in to see if your parcel is there. The Customer Care lady took the details, said she will phone the depot, get them to investigate, they will call her and she (or someone from the Customer Care team) will call me back. "ooh lovely, thank you for being so helpful," says I, "What time do you think you'll call back?". " Oh about Friday."

Is it me?

Adendum

And another thing, while I'm on the subject of having a cold. Why, when most people get a cold they also develop a deep, sexy, husky voice? Whereas I sound more like Minnie Mouse??

(The picture? I was wondering when you'd ask, it's a gadget you can buy to relieve your babies congestion. Yes you got it, it's a snot sucker. NOT ON MY WATCH.)

Great British Service

Is it too much to ask? For someone in a public service role to surprise me and give good service?

Yesterday I booked my yearly flu jab at my local surgery. Today an email came out at work, all employees at the hospital are being offered a flu jab.

I booked my appointment with the flu jab department and then phoned the surgery to cancel my appointment with them.

Me - "I'd like to cancel an appointment I've got on Monday"

Receptionist, "Who's it with?"

Me, "I'm not sure but I guess the nurse as it is for a flu jab."

Receptionist, "I cant find it on here."

Me, "It was for 3.30pm on Monday."

Receptionist, "Well the nurse doesn't work in the afternoons, perhaps it was for the flu clinic?"

Me, "YOU DON'T THINK?"

Honestly, I ask you?

Is There A Pattern Forming?

It's happening. I knew it would. It was only a matter of time.

I'm turning into my father - Shouty Grandad.

I was sitting in the shuttle bus this afternoon, waiting for it to take me to my car at the Park and Ride when I saw a visitor to the hospital. She was sitting with 2 friends on a wall outside. she lit up a cigarette and after a short conversation with one friend, turned round and threw the empty cigarette packet into the shrubbery behind her.

Can you feel it? That's my blood on 'simmer'. I now have a choice.

Do I a. ignore the act of litter, make my way to my car and fester with anger and injustice all afternoon? or b. go over to the woman and point out that not only is she smoking in a health centre but making the place dirty with the garbage from her filthy habit (you can tell I'm an ex-smoker, right?).

b. it is

I get out of the bus, walk over, say, "Excuse me" lean in between 2 of the friends and pick up the empty packet, wave it under her nose and say, "I think you dropped this." Before she can take it and put it in her bag, I snatch it away and walk 6 steps - yes 6 steps to the nearby bin and deposit the offending carton in. As I walk back past the group, the woman gripes, "Why has everyone got it in for me?". I turn back toward her - my heart is palpitating hard, my voice shrill (I don't 'do' confrontation, I become too stressed - it's a stress and depression thing from way back) - I say, "You should take some responsibility for your actions instead of feeling sorry for yourself. You come to my place of work and chuck your garbage around AND smoke in a HOSPITAL - it's about time someone pointed out how anti-social you are." Her reply was a classic, "You don't have to tell me about smoking," pointing at one friend, "this is my mother and she's got cancer." I can hardly believe her rubbish reply. "Then you of all people should know why you shouldn't smoke, especially in a hospital where there are sick people."

"Where does it say I can't smoke?" says she - nailing her argument coffin shut. Even her friends raised their eyes to the heavens.

"EVERYWHERE" said I. Turned on my heel and got back on the bus.

The real point to the story is that it took me about an hour to calm down, slow my breathing and heart rate. I need some help to sort out my confrontation anxiety - either that or a blindfold!

The Joy of Work

Oh brother what a day.

Six weeks of calm, enjoyable relaxation swept away in the space of 20 minutes.

I spent this morning catching up on 6 weeks of email, post, documents, meetings correspondence and meeting requests. Four and a half hours of hard work, head down and getting on with it.

Then my boss comes in with 30 minutes to go before I set off home and started asking questions I don't know the answers to. I could have cried. I'm now tense, aching and tearful, what happened to those 6 weeks?

Oh well - only 25 years to go til I retire. I'm going to be healthy, to enjoy my retirement, if it kills me!?

Fingers Crossed

This is Billie, say hello to Billie, she was left in a box on a rabbit owners doorstep in a nearby town. Billie will be coming to join the Fink family after our holiday. I'll be trying to introduce her to Mr Chips over the 3 weeks of the Summer Hols. "How did this come about?" I hear you ask.

Weeeeeeeeeeeeell. As you know, after the Blue Cross fiasco of finding a friend for Mr Chips I kept looking through the Tinternet and came across Agatha's Annex. A lady who lives not far from me who has been rescuing rabbits for a number of years. I contacted her, visited her and had a lovely afternoon surrounded by bunnies and guinea pigs. Agatha even showed me how to groom Mr Chips. what a lovely lady (and her hubby too!). Unfortunately circumstances were such that there mere no suitable companions available for Mr Chips there.

The next evening as i was doing my usual 'bum-check' on RabbitFink, I found fly eggs, the first stage of Flystrike' which is a serious/fatal disease for rabbits, where a fly is attracted to a rabbit because it is dirty for whatever reason and lays its eggs on the rabbit, near its behind, after as little as 12 hours, the eggs hatch and the infant maggots start eating the rabbit. Needless to say it is a distressing and terrible death for a rabbit. I have always prided myself on the fact that my rabbit was clean and well cared for, so it just goes to show, it can happen to anyone. With the help of Mr Fink, I removed all the eggs, cutting away some of Mr Chips' fur to make sure they were all gone. Mr Fink phoned our vet and was told the fee would be £105 as it was after hours - that was just to open the doors, we would have to pay the consultation fee etc. on top. Well, I was certain Mr Chips was now out of danger, so I left the visit till the morning. the vet kept Mr chips in, shaved his tail and bum (the rabbit's, not the vet's) and painted him with a medicine called, "Rearguard" to protect him from flystrike for the next 8 weeks. All to the tune of £80. Now you know me, I love my animals but why do I always feel ripped off by this Vets? On the itemised bill it showed the medicine cost £15. That's why.

Rant over.

The lady who has Billie contacted Agatha to try and find Billie a home as Billie doesn't get on with her 2 rabbits (they have the most beautiful Beagle there too - i fell in love with him!), so Agatha told me about her.

So cross your fingers that Billie and Mr Chips like each other!!

There will be no posts for 2 weeks as I am on holiday in Weymouth. Do you remember, years ago when the daily newspapers used to offer a £5 prize to anyone who could quote the phrase of the day to Chalky White carrying the newspaper? (The Sun or The Mirror I think). Well, if you spot me, Mrs Fink, in the next 2 weeks, and you say, "My word Mrs Fink, you are looking slim and gorgeous." I will reward you with a big smile and a firm handshake!

No rain dances now - we're camping!