Thirty Thousand Streets

Wednesday, May 30, 2007

Wet Wednesday..

I'm not working this week.. which was an actual decision on my part. Firstly because I've got some boring stuff to sort out, secondly because I've got some interesting things to do, and thirdly, because last week at work was so boring it was in itself a strong argument for entire new sub-categories of tedious. Most of the week ground agonisingly by making minute cosmetic changes to a bit of direct mail that was, ultimately, always going to be a bit of direct mail. I must have reworked the same 'roundel' device regarding the amazing value of an offer at least three times. But mostly I didn't have very much to do at all, which meant I just sat in the corner of the compact agency I was ensconced in, alternately browsing the internet and fidgeting. Easy money in some ways, but excruciatingly dull in most others.

On the subject of boring stuff I've sorted out some outstanding NIC and PAYE contributions that I thought had been paid ages ago. Obviously the black hole of the British postal service had simply swallowed the cheque as I kept recieving ominous letters from the Inland Revenue. What always gets right on my tits about this is that the office in question is perpetually un-contactable, the phone eternally engaged. In idle moments I imagine it off the hook in a chained and locked, airtight filing cabinet somewhere beneath the Bristol Channel, but the truth is probably far more prosaic (a single phone in an office, everyone is trying to ring).

I've also just managed to pay a bunch of cheques in, having waited quite a while for the full hand to appear..

Other things I need to resolve are my tax self-assessment, though before I can do that, the next major hurdle on the horizon is sorting out who does my accounting, as the current bunch have totally failed to impress me. I requested a breakdown of what I paid them last year, and when it arrived (via email, a week or too later) I practically had to steady myself. To say: "they're not cheap" would be a gross understatement. Theyre singularly inneficient as well.. I rang up yesterday for some advice on a relatively simple matter, was put on hold for ten minutes, cut off, rang up again, asked what my number was ("er, this one you just rang me on") then promised someone would ring me back later in the day (they didn't). Crap. So I think I'll take my money elsewhere.

In other news, having a quick rifle through my wardrobe the other day I discovered that moths have been dining out on my Katherine Hamnett suit. It's riddled with tiny holes, and looks like someone has been exchanging blowbacks with hash reefers over my left shoulder. In truth, I only wore to job interviews for jobs I never wanted anyway, which is good as it's probably only good for sacraficial moth food now. However, in a quest to limit the spread of this rot, I hastened to the 99p store on Butterfly Walk.

I just finished reading a book called 'The Animal Factory' by Edward Bunker (who played Mr Blue in Reservoir Dogs), which is set in San Quentin prison, California, and circumnavigating the aforementioned store is much like what I imagine it to be like crossing the yard in that – both physically and psychologically hazardous. Nonetheless, I got got out alive and in posession of moth balls, which I proceeded to secrete around my wardrobe.

I've since removed them all, for the simple reason that they fucking stank. I've little doubt that they might have some success at repelling moths, but at the almost certain cost of repelling or poisoning me as well; I get the distinct impression they are insanely toxic, in spite of their benign, mint-like like appearance.

I hear cedar wood is the classic moth-repellant, though I don't think I'm in the market for a cedar-wood wardrobe just yet. The internet tells me a more expedient solution is to simply give clothes a good airing every once in a while, though of course this presents problems of its own, living in a gardenless flat in London.

Anyway. I've got some interesting things to do, and am going to look at a flat this evening.. though it costs a bit (alright, quite a lot) more than I really want to spend..

3 comments:

mountainear said...

This is motherly advice: get some little wooden balls made of cedar wood - they smell OK. Lakeland plastics do mail order. (£5.99)

gridrunner said...

My flat has a moth problem too. Said cedar balls seem to be doing the trick. I also got some weird cedar spray that you spray onto the cedar balls to enhance their aroma.

Wherever I put them the moths seem to perish, though survivors keep popping up in other parts of the flat so it's become a kind of game involving the strategic repositioning of cedar balls.

I suspsect the root of the problem is that landlord didn't actually get the carpets “professionally cleaned” like he said he did.

Zeno Cosini said...

I've never tried mothballs of any sort, but then I'm fortunate enough not to need them. I have a stiletto-slender electromagnetically-powered surgical steel probiscus that punches out of my mouth with eye-baffling speed when I want it to; very useful for impaling moths and other airborne pests in mid-flight.