I am working from home today so I have to make my own tea for once. Just now, I had a scolding hot cuppa and so biscuits primed for dunking. Two digestives and three rich tea - which a friend of mine referrs to as "Prison Biscuits" as he tells me that is all you get inside - shame.

Anyway, as always I digress...

So I dunk my first rich tea and I hang on for a few seconds more than you should as I must admit I do favour a bit of brinkmanship when it comes to the dunk. I enjoy the soggy tea soaked state it comes out in and find the delicate flapping of the biscuit onto my tongue quite delicious. Peter Kay famously does a routine where he calls rich tea "one dips" ("get the spooooooooooooooooon") as he prefers to go for the brick like Hobnob and sees the rich tea as the scardey cat of buscuits. But me, no. I enjoy the gamble that is the rich tea.

Plonk.

In in drops to my tea. I desperatly try and save it with my first grab, burn my fingers and the biscuit breaks up. I lose.

So I choose a digestive and do the same, but this time through no fault of my own but a design fault in said biscuit, after just two dunks...

Plonk

Clearly a crack in the biscuit has caused this as digestives are good for at a bare minumum three, maybe as many as six dunks. Now faced with soggy tea, I decide to make a new one.

It is at this point I start thinking about the cost as I pour it away down the sink with various beige dregs gloopilly faling over the edge of the cup.

So a cup of tea at home I worked out to cost a fraction above 1p. My mind then flicked back to yesterday where I was charged 40P in the canteen of one of our offices and £1.80 at Watford gap services.

I am of course prepared to accept that they have overheads and I have no issue with making a profit. But bugger me, the profit on a tea is quite something isn't it?! Especially as at the services it came in a poxy pot that I did not want and had the wonky lid that they all come with so half of it misses the cup and goes over the table. Then you have crappy UHT mini cartons of milk and a wooden twig that is supposed to be a stirrer......all for £1.80????

Don't get me started on hotel tea either. That comes in a tiny thimble and charge the price of a three bed Semi in Dulwich.

Even 40P at the office in a supposed "subsidised" canteen is a bit rich, but you do get a sensible poly cup and proper milk plus if you are stationed there they have no issue with you bringing your own mug - however big - and filling it for same 40p.

So my point is, what is "fair" for a cup of tea? Bearing in mind the 1p I worked out was for me buying Tetley on BOGOF plus my share of the milk and hot water, and the big companies can buy in mahooosive quantity at a fraction of retail - I reckon their gross cost of a tea is no more than a third of a penny. Including the cup, pot, milk, hot water, heating, lighting, cleaning and wages spread over the business.

I have made a decision and I am no longer going to pay more than 50P for a tea. I don't mind a mark up, but when you consider it, there is a mark up and a rip off.

Tea falls firmly in to the latter category.

so, as the headline says...and I right, or just tight?

I had to visit for a blood test today. Nothing dramatic just an alergy thing.

But the nurse was running late and I ended up sitting there for 45 minutes and quickly got bored of the out of date home and garden magazines. So I ended up analysing the people in the surgery who had come to see the doctor and were going in and out at regular intervals while I waited for nurse Debbie to arrive.

So first up a very large lady who struggled to her feet when called. She looked around and said "oh, it's my knees...I hope Dr West can help me"

Now, I am no doctor. But I think I could quite eaisly diagnose this problem and present a solution.

"look love, you are overweight by a considerable margin. Now that is your business, but your knees hurt because you are carrying too much weight"

"if you want to be overweight, fine. I have no issue with that, but do not come to me asking for help with your knees as that is one of the prices you pay for your over indulgence Now stop being a drain on NHS resources and eat a bit less and walk to the shops"

Second up was clearly an unwell child who was coughing horribly. Bless him.

Third we had the block who sat next to me. He STANK of smoke...absolutley reeked of it. And whn he spoke he had one of those gruffly, phlegmy unable to finish my words propery voices that make you heave to listen to it. He gave me no clue as to his visit to Dr West, but my assumption was "i have this really bad chest Doc"

"really? you surprise me...you look like you look after yourself so well too"

Fourth was an old lady who looked like she was heading for the departure lounge...if you know what I mean.

Fifth was another child, baby this time and I am pretty sure she was suffering what can only be described as "PPS"...Panicky Parent Syndrome.

I am an expert in this as with Pixie, I think I invented it. Every sniffle it was Pneoumonia..., every time she coughed it was Whooping Cough...no really...every time she cried for more than an hour it was death just around the corner.

Yet the diagnosis was easy. Have another child and get over it. Dixie has been to see the doc once in 20 months. Pixie went weekly until Dixie was born.

And so to my turn. I strode in to the Nurses room confidently and then turned into a gibbering wreck as, coward that I am was faced with the needle.

But, such a brave boy I was I managed not to faint.

maybe I am just allergic to needles.

Dan

It has been a bad few weeks in the R household. Yet again the dreaded virus has spread across the 4 of of us. House full of coughing and sneezing people is not a pleasant place. I am currently under the doctor on a very expensive set of perscriptions for somethig additional(I have no been to the Doc in over 5 years and was shocked at the price of it all) but nothing to blog there.

However, Dixie has taken on a new role. Apart from being entertainment manager of the house (impressive at 19 months) she can now actually crap money.

Yes, you did read that rather vulgar phrase correctly.

I will spare you details, but suffice to say after three days of only wet nappies, she was becomimg rather grumpy. Then after another bout of butt clenching and screaming the GLW then forced her on to a potty and low and behold the potty was filled with what can only be described as "muddied coins". The fell out like one of the "shove 2p" machines at the seaside.

The shock of seeing cash in a potty was quite something. I did think for a moment that we cut her open and take the gold like the fable says, but they ended up killing the goose and that was a price too high.

I joke, but the seriousness of it was quite real really. The fact that she had ingested these coins safely was a stroke of luck. Only took on going the wrong way down and - well - does not bear thinking to be honest.

So Pixie's piggy banks are now on high. My coinage is safely put in a bottle to save up for my Aston Martin (should only take 20,000 years) and the GLW only steals my money and anything left gets spent on a variery of tat we do not need. So no issue of her ever having money left over.

I am not sure it is over yet either as we had a pretty bad night with her last night and as a consequence I have no energy for work and have diverted to blog.

Maybe she can start producing notes. It wont hurt anywhere near as much and I would not have to worry about doing my forecast and last weeks report that I am currently procrastinating over.

Actually my forecast is easy - Fk All. Reason: Plan to be lazy and cancel visits, blaming customer for cancelling me.

On second thoughts - bad idea.

Better get to work.

Laters all.

D

I have had a week off work and as I have been doing cool things instead of visiting customers in godforsaken industrial parks on the outskirts of nowhere and stealing tea, pens and bandwidth.

On Monday I took Pixie to her tennis lesson. Not really a tennis lesson at all, more a case of organised chaos with a bunch of pre schoolers determined to get a black eye from a wild backhand at some point. But it is great to watch.

Anyhoos, I leave Pixie in the capable hands of "Lee" the impossibly fit and toung tennis coach who all the mums seem to have a little crush on. Well, he is not my type so I went to get a coffee.

It it one set of stairs and about a 15 yard walk to the bar. I have never had to avoid crashes as much ever - even driving around the Arc de Triomphe in Paris!

Obviously there are no cars in this place, but it is all middle aged women on their mobile phones texting as they walk. They are out of control. Not one was looking where they were going, all were just hovering their thumb over the keypads as the walked.

"'scuse me"
"eh? whaaa?..oh sorry"

There were at least 6 of these in the few yards. Why do they walk and text? It is damn dangerous...could have had my eye out!

So after negoitiating the route back to the courts I sait amongst the yummy mummies all glued to their phones. Not one spoke a word. Not one looked up from their screen, except to see how their darling boy was doing occasionally.

They missed a treat. It is hilarious watching 3 & 4 year olds battle to hit a ball or a balloon while the "sumptious" Lee tries to keep order.

It all broke up after a while and the children trudged out red faced and gasping for water. The women meanwhile made a bee line for "Lee".

"what tennis requet is best for Miles"
"what should Daisy wear to help her"

These daft questions were all about getting Lee's attention. It was the only thing that kept them away from their phones.

Me jealous?

well maybe a tad...