Grumpy Monday – “the equivalent of spitting in your burger in the maintenance world…”

It’s Monday morning and I should be at work overseeing a few ideas that are almost ready for the public eye.

I’m actually at home, waiting for a maintenance man to arrive and fix my doorbell and take a look at the temperamental toilet light and have a look at the thermostat that does the exact opposite of what it’s programmed to do so and look at the T.V ariel which hasn’t’ worked all week, but now works flawlessly!  And then we have the balcony doors – you were designed to work as a barrier to stop all things outside coming in and destroying my beautiful new home – that includes the rain!

Owning a home is such a pleasant period in life.

I wasn’t expecting this and as a result I’m feeling the urge to verbally abuse anyone who is or isn’t to blame, but here is the problem – I need them on side and even worse, I wouldn’t what to know what the maintenance man’s equivalent of spitting in your burger is – something costly no doubt.

What’s more annoying is the lack of urgency – something you don’t expect when you pay over £200 ground rent.

A patronising answer phone message arrives: “someone will be with you between 8am – 3pm; you can leave your keys with the site manager if you have work.”

Great, I’m supposed to leave the keys with someone I don’t know.  I find it hard to give my car keys to my dad, let alone a random Polish, Ukraine or a Portuguese ‘handy man’ who is an electrician, a floor layer and heating expert – all in one.  Whoever it is, I bet they have a first class honours in sniffing the lady’s pants whilst cracking one off on our new cream carpets – I don’t think so.

The other thing that’s making me particular grumpy on this bone shattering  cold, retched, not to mention wet grumpy Monday is the amount of “poppy pushers” I’ve encountered online and offline!

I’ve bought one, I’ve worn one and that is it.  Now leave me alone. PLEASE.

Below are some links that have calmed down my inner rage, thus making Monday a less grumpy place to be.

See Coney Island in its full glory before its transformed into a franchise friendly characterless location.


I love stumbling on new old music – if you catch my riff.

’83 was a good year for house.

Confused about life?



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