Buttons

Buttons really are a joy, I once found a Karen Millen button on York Street, Manchester and put it in my pocket, my imagination took me on a journey that day I was thinking how wonderful it would be to own a magic button, which once rubbed in a pocket could grant you three wishes per day, (21 a week), how fabtastic that would be, I rubbed the button and when I got home that night and checked my emails I had in deed had some good fortune, I won a trip to copenhagen courtesy of Palmolive, and yes I know with or without the button I found i would have won it as it wasnt connected, but I did enjoy the flight of fancy ......

Hubs is heard to say "fxxxxxxx buttons on a quilt cover, what arse decided that was a good idea, "Actually it was Jeff Banks", and I wont tell you what he said about Jeff but he changed one of the letters of his surname which turned it into quite a different name altogether.

Yes the quilt cover has buttons ont he outside as decoration and yes it has been cold and a cold button on a bare back (or butt) can be a shock in the night but taking it out so verbally on Jeff really isnt on.

I have a dinner set that has no design faults.

Attached is a photo of the Rolling Stones Logo done entirely in buttons by my very talented neice Amy.

How wonderful.....

M

Taxing doesnt need to be taxing (my ass)

Moira Stuart is stalking me, I cant avoid her voice on the radio or her face on the billboards, however, I am finding that tax is taxing......

Ok I admit we should have got the paper tax returns in in October, but it such a long winded boring job that I put it off (I know your prob wondering why I am doing the tax returns and paper work at all, well I am either a mug or quite like my hubs, and that is why on a rainy sunday I found myself completing paper work whilst he is watching football, yeah on second thoughts I am a mug)..... so I completed the forms and did my very best "mitigating circumstances" letter explaining how busy we have been since hubs decided working for himself wasnt paying a liveable wage and took a full time job in maintenance at a local colleage (now dont get giddy I am not so sure thats a liveable wage either, but at least its a regular one with sick pay and a good holiday entitlement, and as I always say onwards and upwards).

So Moira stuart blah blahhing on the radio in the morning telling us we could be fined and now have to input all the information online, so.......

We (now when I say we I mean me) contacted the number on the paperwork and requested an ID, that came and I set everything out yesterday (another waste of a sunday, whilst I could have been watching the sopranos on dvd whilst toasting marshmallows by the fireplace) we couldnt move on as we required a Id and password. So I make another phone call (wonderful service open 8 - 8) well it would be a wonderful service if it was actually the hmrc it wasnt as its 2011 and everything is outsourced, it was a chirpy glaswegian at a call centre, who said she couldnt divulge any info as I didnt have my hubs with me (we are like ships passing in the night as I am out of the house from 8 - 6 and he is out from 10 -8.00 therefore we are not together to discuss at the same time on the phone to the helpline).

Its not perfect but next we await the arrival of the id through the mail, when we have that, we go on a website and request a new password which will be sent in two parts (honestly this is like a test from biblical times,) one part by email and one on line.

So I cant do anything at the moment, and this is such a boring story my next will be about the joy of buttons.....

M

Hurt

Emotional pain is awful and yet as we make our way through life its a constant, we cant avoid it unless we cut ourselves off from all possibilities,

A True Story.......

Every now and then someone tells you a story that although benefits you in no way whatsoever, makes you feel glad for the randomness of life in general, this is that story.

My hubs cousin Liam is and always has been the biggest Phil Lynnott and Thin Lizzy fan ever. Once a year he makes the journey to Dublin and to Phils grave to pay his respects, this year he went and spoke to a lady tending the grave, when she turned and asked if he was a big fan of the music he knew immediately it was Phils mum, and after a short chat she invited him and his brother back to her house for a cup of tea.

Back at Phillomena's home she was happy to chat about Phil and she even showed him Phill's old bedroom.

If this isnt the most wonderful story you have ever heard, then seriously there is something wrong with you

Mahoo