Food or Heating or Past Life Regression Therapy?

Past Life Regression therapy is expensive
£60
I don't have £60
I have a bank account with the number indicating a rise, another rise, yet another rise with a - next to it as it sinks, sinks, sinks into the red hot lava of oh fucking hell....

I laugh as I tell my doctor. I can't do any of it, it's all on debt, it's not about choosing food or heating or past life regression or or... or... Christmas

Christmas

You know what?
Fuck it
Fuck the overdraft
It's no kind of life worrying about money

With any luck Sir Camelot will appear over the horizon and pour Gold into my bank balance

Oh that past life healing was available on the NHS, but it never will be will it because pharmaceutical companies cannot profit from it so have nothing to gain saving countless lives.

(Taken from Notebook though not in original format 20 November)

Repeat after me
I am a millionaire
I am a millionaire
I am a millionaire

Paying to freeze to death

My son got dressed for school this morning underneath his duvet he was so cold.

Yesterday, by chance, I (and no doubt 1000's of customers) got a text from my electricity company:

"[Giant Thief]would really like to speak with you & complete a health check on your account before winter."

I called because I was meaning to call. I'm still paying last winter's debt. The girl on the other end of the phone said my bill would be increasing to account for the winter payments.

"No way!" I said. "I'm already paying £40 a week for last year which drives me into further debt week after week. I have not switched on my heaters yet and this morning my son was too cold to get dressed. My life is hard I don't care if I freeze to death but I cannot allow my child to freeze to death too."

Apparently, as from last week my account is in credit. I am using £68 a month of electricity - don't ask me how. Washing machine is used once a week. Water heats at night on an economy meter. They suggested I do my washing when the electric tariff is cheaper - after midnight.

Anyway, big plus, is the girl reduced my weekly payments to £15. The heaters haven't come on yet though and no-one is telling me how to use them efficiently.

Heh heh, efficiently. The girl admitted that storage heaters "are not that good anyway. They give out heat but it's not that warm."

So yeah, we're paying to freeze.

It's not a choice between heating and food. Debt pays my food at the moment. Debt pays my energy bill debt caused by this energy company.

Dave says pay your debts and then switch companies. Oh my god Dave, do you know nothing? We are beholden to these companies.

As luck would have it, this morning I got an email from Friends of the Earth. Please sign this petition. By not doing so you are demonstrating that you are as hopelessly out of touch as David Cameron.

I told the guy on the phone (for I got transferred to a guy) that it was a petition to stop the Big Six ripping us off.

"We're number 2!" he exclaimed joyously.

"It's nothing to be proud of," I replied.

Please sign it, it'll reduce your own bill too. Thanks.

http://www.foe.co.uk/what_we_do/final_demand2_32882.html (enjoy the video!)

When in existential trouble...BUILD

Yesterday afternoon, after my pub shift would have finished had I been at work, an Argos delivery man carried the box containing my 'desk and chair' up my stairs.

He smelt nice, which was nice.

Some parts of the desk required two people to assemble it but there was no second person I could call, so I did it myself. Took a while. lifted the structure onto the top desk bit back to front so had to lift it out again, but hey! I did it!!

So today. where I've stepped outside and had to step back in again because my chest keeps tightening and I think I'm going to have a panic attack, I have instead marvelled at my two new bits of furniture which given an illusion of ordered space in my living room.

Oh to have bespoke furniture for in truth, were I rich, I would not have a desk like this with a keyboard shelf attached by runners, because I have a laptop. It is kind of bespoke though; I've left my mark on it.. it's not a smooth finish!

So yes, with a door slamming shut on my pub job (she wasn't there both times I went to apologise so I'm guessing...) I'm hoping the renovations to my front room, with its pine storage and a 'beech effect' desk, will precipitate a lovely job, that I can do staring out on to the tops of these trees before me (I do so need the sky to be close)

So yes folks, I'm drowning.. letter from the electric company saying charges are going up by 11% in a few weeks..I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one to feel out of my depth

So, I'm taking some time out. Tidy up, read.. I bought myself Shantaram with some tokens I was given for writing a review piece for someone (£10!) but I may read something more spiritual instead because I hate feeling like this. Thinking you're at the bottom but knowing there is no bottom, you just keep falling.

My country is in existential trouble. It should take a leaf from my blog and BUILD. Build what's affordable. Build affordable homes for people. 80% of £350 a week is not "affordable" just like fix term contracts are not "secure".

I sign out and wish you a very happy Bank Holiday. Hopefully next time I write, my son will be home.

(oh and damn, was going to write about the Lily Shea Trio gig I went to - the guitarist is a friend and Lily's voice is smoky or else smooth like chocolate when sings her jazz and the classical music concert at St Martin's in the Field...I am actually alright, I just need to focus on something other than what I'm trying not to think about and really want to switch off my computer and breathe, and empty my mind of negative things. Thanks Stigs, ending on music!)

Pursued by Shadows

Two nights ago, not last night thank goodness I dreamt I was being chased.
I don't know by who or by what but the seizure in my chest told me I was terrified.
I dived under a stationary car as whatever encircled it, and encircled it and then I woke up.

I consulted google to find out what it meant (though pretty self explanatory really)

Chase dreams are one of several common dream themes, stemming from feelings of anxiety in your waking life...Your actions in the dream parallel how you would respond to pressure and cope with fears, stress or various situations in your waking life. Instead of confronting the situation, your dream indicates that you have a tendency to run away and avoid the issue. Ask yourself who is chasing you, so that you can gain a better understanding and insight on the source of your fears and anxieties.

The pursuer or attacker who is chasing you in your dream may also represent an aspect of yourself. Your own feelings of anger, jealousy, fear, and possibly love, can manifest itself as the threatening figure. Or the shadowy figure can symbolize the rejected characteristics of your Self. You may be projecting these feelings onto the unknown chaser. Next time you have a dream of being chased, turn around and confront your pursuer. Ask them why they are chasing you. What are you trying to run from? (www.dreammoods.com)

I was too scared to confront my pursuer. Is it because I'm so unwilling to confront my life?

I have to go to the Housing Benefits office and tell them my rent's been increased. I don't want to do this.

I have to send the electricity company evidence of all my benefits. It's not enough that I just fill the form stating what I get a week, I have to find and photocopy proof of child tax credits, child benefits, housing and income support and goodness knows what else.

Like vultures onto your life, picking at all flesh.

Perhaps I'm just tired. Supersonically tired of this aspect of my life and there's nothing I can do except put one foot infront of the other and do what I have to do.

Any depressed person can tell you that this is sometimes very hard; life can seem exceptionally heavy at times.

I will confront my pursuer next time.

It's only a dream afterall, isn't it?

Easter Sunday

London comes a visit
I want to drown it
drown
drown
drown
my sis in law cathees* me

(a really stunning day with the little ones - treasure hunts, footie, holding hands, crawling, + yes, I liked church too, brave A, wine wine wine think of beauty,
don't drown)

(Scrawled in Notebook 24 April - *the word was 'catches')

Thieving Electrical Companies

£600 electricity bill
That's not right
Everyone's saying it
except the electrical company
fucking thief.
"Try not to use your dishwasher," says voice on the phone
Don't have one.
"Limit the use of your tumble dryer."
Don't have one.
£200 a month for a two bed flat?
"What can you afford?" they say.
"£40 a week for 12 months?"
Who can afford that?
I have to pay it off.

You know what gets me though
over and above this nasty
stinking
thieving
debt?
It costs 17 pence a day
to lease the meter.
No meter, no electric.
You have to lease it
or go higher rates on prepay
17 pence a day
before you so much as breathe.
Fucking thieves.

(Taken from Notebook 23rd April)

Electrician sorts my Bionic Mice

Luck was on my side yesterday evening. An electrician rang me saying he wanted to come round and check the heaters and the lighting.
"Oh brilliant, at last! Are you coming about the mice too?"
"Mice? I don't know anything about any mice."

Ah, so this is an earlier request to the housing association, in December. I called my support worker last week and he sent an email to the housing association about the mice. Nothing. The 'one or two' days.. well, the electrician has come after 'one or two months' so shouldn't really hold my breath. Thankful for small mercies however.

My mice are surely bionic. They stuff themselves on the poison, you can see the trays emptying, then they spend the rest of the night stuffing themselves on the contents of my bin. I heard them last night, at 5am, wide eyed prostrate in my bed praying they'd stick to the kitchen.

(Talking of sticking, downstairs neighbours used glue pads, have caught five mice recently. There are three people live in that flat. It's the guy I haven't met who's the mouse ridder. I still can't bring myself to use glue pads, have the mouse stare at me, frightened....oh feck there's no nice way to deal with them is there?)

Anyway, the electrician called me after the early morning visit saying he'd called the property owners who were getting a mice exterminator round. Possibly today.

He gave me property owner's number as well. It's a real estate company. They own the flat downstairs aswell.

It means if I have a maintenance problem I don't have to go through the Housing Association.

I'm relieved, because that takes so frigging long. Thank you Leccy Man.

I was going to buy a plug in mouse repellent but my electric bill won't stand it.

Well, bye bye mice, I hope.

Electricity estimate: Totally F****D

My estimated electricity bill for the past two months is

You can't wait for it on a blog can you? It's written there right infront of you.

The estimate is: £534

That's right. It averages out at £250 a month on electricity alone.

My entire weekly income support allowance is swallowed up by the electricity tariffs.

I was going to go for a walk yesterday afternoon then decided instead to just take care of some domestic administration.

I hadn't had an electric bill since the first, which was £13 for a week. I was afraid and rightly bloody so.

The nice nice, can't shoot the messenger on the other end of the phone told me not to worry, they'd work out a payment plan for me.

Not to worry? Payment plan? Two hundred and fifty flipping pounds a month is too high. There must be some flipping mistake..

Not by their records, she said.

I've gone from an average £30 a month at my Papier Mache Towers flat to hundreds in this new one. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

I asked her if her company had made good profits this year and she said she didn't think so, not much.

I asked her if her CEO had received a decent bonus and she didn't say anything. Well, what could she say, I just didn't want to shoot her, the messenger.

I'm afraid I cannot see the funny side of it.

It is not hope I was given when she said: "Wait for your bill, this is just an estimate, but our estimates tend to be accurate."

Oh joy!

Some front page article in the Express yesterday about Crisis Loans and people abusing the benefits system or something. "Claimants, " says The Express, "treat it like a hole in the wall for benefits cash." The Department for Work and Pensions say that "hundreds and thousands of people are abusing the system, which is costing £1 million a day."

Well, they would say that wouldn't they, in a bid to take something else away from the poorest.

I did not actually know about these crisis loans but if £250 a month is what I (and I ALWAYS think of pensioners and severely disabled when I'm whacked with an impossibly high bill) have to expect, well shite, I better hurry up and find out about it.

I don't want to pay this bill though. Loan or no loan. I don't. It's a fecking joke.

Hear the CEO laughing: Ha ha ha ha ha!! Oh ha ha ha ha ha haaaaaaaaa! Ha haaaaaa haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.........!

Hear me laughing; ha ha ha ha ha! Oh ha ha ha h

P = Palms

If you write something on your palm it tends to rub off so I have written "Electricity" on the back of my hand too just to make sure I remember to boost the supply.
I keep forgetting and our power's going to go any minute!
We can't have that now, can we?

Electricity call outs cost, just to warn you

Why, why do I owe EDF an "outstanding balance of £41" when my electric meter is prepay and I shouldn't owe a thing?

Well I had to call them didn't I. So I just did.

Back in March the electrics were giving off sparks before finally dying and plunging me in the dark.

The Property Owner called the suppliers and then got her own electrician to come and fix the fuse box.

I owe the suppliers because they were called out and found no fault. The fuse box is not their fault. When plunged in darkness with sparks flying and the fear of fire imminent, the wrong thing to do is call the supplier. They do "everything up to an including the meter, the fusebox is internal and the property owner's responsibility."

If I want my £41 back, I have to call the property owner. It's not a happy honeymoon relationship between us since she sent me a "letter of warning". I do not want to talk to her and have her bully boyfriend take the call.

So, lucky them, I am carrying the cost of their call out because the less I have to do with them the better.

My meter has swallowed £1.50 in two days. The £10 I put on it this morning is not going to last the week as EDF "will be collecting this [£41] directly from your prepayment meter at £3.00 per week." A pricey summer therefore.

I'd rather give the money to street children in Brazil if I'm honest with you, not inflate the bank accounts of those who already have heavy pockets.

What can I say, I'm not liking my life today.

Glad to be back?

Amazing break, a real break
Not glad to be back
Letters await me
Can wait until tomorrow

Amazing friends, real friends
still in my heart
My son's holy communion
bought tears to my eyes

Same as bloody EDF
Charging £41 "outstanding payment"
What? On a prepay meter?
Why I'm not opening more letters

One from Downing Street
One from House of Commons
Email from Council
Can wait the bad news....

Lost my charger
It charged off,
it is a mobile after all,
but where?

Tell you
Coming back to the Tower
It's not good to be back
but I'm holding the good in my soul

Thanks guys
Thanks my family
Thanks my beautiful son
Thanks xxx

The electrician's' coming back

The property owner called this morning to say the electrician was coming back to 'finish the job properly'. She asked whether I'd be in tomorrow. I told her I wouldn't be, I was going to my parents and I would be leaving early because it's Good Friday and I'm going to take my son to church.

Oh la la la la la and "it's got to get done" and "I'm not paying the electrician until it is" la la la.

"It's the Easter holidays and I'm going away....no I don't know when I'll be back." (She's always telling me I can't always get what I want which iritates me but this time I'm not going to let her or her bully boy partner give me grief) "It's not an emergency. There's no flood, there are no sparks. It can wait."

The electrician calls while I'm in Sainsbury's and tells me she's been "moaning" at him for "half an hour". We both have a good moan, we come to an understanding that he'll come a week on Monday. Happy, happy all sorted and if property owner is not happy, well, too bad really. I won't tell her she can't always get what she wants because I don't want to start a habit of patronising people.

Believe what you want.

The electrician is quite lovely. The electrician is also married. It's good to know these things!

"I'm going to call the fire brigade"

The property owner called last night asking if she could come round to check the new fuse box the electrician had installed.

9pm she turned up. I was knackered watching any old rubbish on TV until my Wednesday favourites started.

She was not happy. There was a screw top missing on the face panel which itself didn't look secure. A cable was stopping the door which can't close, from closing. Nor had the electrician cleaned up after himself. She said she'd get him to come back.

I went back to sitting on the sofa and just let her get on with her investigations.

She came into the room and started poking about the sockets again.

"Did you get my warning letter?"
"No, not yet."
"You know you really have to do something about this, it's a very dangerous fire hazard."
"You haven't come to lecture me again have you?" I ask flatly.
"Yes I have. What's this?!" as she picks up a postcard off the armchair next to the telly stand stacked with my son's video's. She then taps the extension bracket sitting on a filing cabinet behind the stand and next to said armchair.
"You put that there. Those brackets have four sockets designed to take four plugs. It's perfectly safe. Two electricians told me."
"I'm going to have to call the firebrigade and get someone to come and talk to you."
"Do what you want."

Oh to be past caring about something. It's so nice.

She left and I settled down to watch Mad Men. They've gone and scheduled Damages on the same night so I've had to sacrifice Desperate Housewives. As it turned out, I missed the flipping lot because I fell asleep and woke up again at midnight.

Funny though, not so long ago I told you I was mad and desperate. I may aswell admit I'm damaged too! What a comfort, Wednesday night telly!

I'm also quite excited at the prospect of a fireman coming round, have to say. He might be really gorgeous! He might be really strong! He might understand.

Sitting in the dark

The past couple of days I've been rescued, saved by people I didn't ask to rescue or save me.

My electricity cut out. I was facing the prospect of spending the evening sitting in the dark. I didn't really mind that prospect at the time but... fate had other ideas!

I see my neighbour while I'm outside with Nico Teen and she invites me in to share a bottle of wine. Says my son can watch a dvd in her room. I'm hoping he'll fall asleep while doing so because it's 8pm, he's usually in bed by then. We drink, we chat, we drink, we chat. It's nice.

My mate Charlie texts while I'm there asking if he can come round with a take-away and a couple of beers. Sure but I'm ok for food! I leave my neighbour because by 11pm, my son has not fallen asleep and well, there's school the next day.

Charlie comes round and by torch light we chat, we drink, we chat, we drink until 2am when he goes home.

He says if the electrics aren't back on the following night, to crash at his. I say I'll be alright. "It'll prepare me for living in a fucking hostel when me and my son will be sharing a cell."

Yesterday a supplier came but because an electrician couldn't come until today, we faced another night of getting a take-away and sitting in the eerily silent flat, in the darkness with a torch for me.

I tell my son that Charlie's said we could stay at his and my son says "yes mummy, i'm cold."

That's decided then. I text my friend and decide to take my son out for dinner.

In the freezing, lashing rain I cycle him to Pizza Express. He's a joker even when it's just us two, larking about in restaurants! I thought it was just like that with other kids!

I pop to the loo and when I come out he's chatting to a friend I've not seen for ages. She berates me for not texting her, we can always stay at hers. "Your mummy never asks for help," she says to my son. "What should your mummy do when she's in trouble?" "Call her friends," says my son. "That's right!"

I cycle my son to Charlie's. He's got to go back out to work but his friend is staying over. I put my son in bed and we settle down and watch a DVD together.

Have you see Seven Pounds? Watch Seven Pounds. It's brilliant, it's heart breaking. It's layered and deep. Will Smith is in it as a man who goes round doing incredible acts of kindness for people. I did weep, as did Charlie's friend!

Tonight the leccie's back on. Charlie did invite us to stay another if it wasn't.

If I ever go to a hostel, I will sit in the dark so my son can get to sleep.

But I'm not going to a hostel. I'm going to fight the flipping choices we're being given to the end.

The State as landlord might not be perfect but it's second to my winning the lottery for getting my son a stable home. I am done, I AM DONE with the private sector.

I am not done with any of my friends though. Thank you for your kindness these past couple of days xxx

Oh God, please not the answer machine

The electrics were tripping all weekend. I knew this because the music would stop. When it came back on again the answer machine would speak: "Your answer machine is on."

"Your answer machine is on. Your answer machine is on." All day. Slightly frustrating but hey ho, thought it was the entire block.

I notice that on the phone panel it says "Memory full" but I ignore it. It's not friends, it's those annoying junk calls that come all the time.

So the property owner comes round, gives me shit for over loading the electrical system, saying she's going to have to re-wire the whole flat because I run too many things off the socket and well, I can't help but think: Is it a backlog of undeleted messages that have jammed the supply?

God, please don't let it be the answering machine, I pray. Yep, I actually pray.

The supplier comes round, checks the meter and says the main switch has burnt out, there's a connection loose.
"Is it my fault?"
"No, it isn't your fault."
"You sure? Not the telly or anything?
"No, it would burn out at the socket itself in that case."
"That's such a relief. The property owner is always blaming me for things that go wrong. When my boiler flooded the block, she said it was because I had my heating on too high. Turned out to be a crack in the float. This she says is me, but it's the main circuit you say?"
"Yes."

I'm relieved and angry at the same time. Blame the tenant. Blame the parent. Blame, blame, blame somebody all the time. I'm fucking sick of it.

Thank you God it wasn't the answering machine!!

"The answering machine is on!" No more should I hold in what I want or need to say. I am finally learning to defend myself and answering people back.

Perhaps I should also thank you God for my being such a thicko! It might get a laugh down the pub!

Go on, go on, blame me bad mother...

My God, the property owner's partner is a bully. A two bit bloody bully. I never want him in my house again.

I called the property owner because the electrics blew and it was quicker to sort it using her and not the housing association. She wanted to come round and have a look at the meter so I cancelled my plan to take my son out to dinner and for the first time ever as a single mum, got a take away. It never crosses my mind to do that but it will from now on; incase of an emergency.

The property owner goes on and on about the mess but Monday, well Monday it was a fucking joke what those two threw at me.

Admittedly, things didn't get off to a great start. I'm hurt ok, I'm disappointed they won't take my son and me as tenants while we wait for a Home.

"You know I want to upgrade the whole flat?" she said, quite casually.
"Yes, so you can get a professional working couple in who are more suitable but I'd check it out first because they're talking about knocking down the block."
"WHAT DID YOU SAY?" comes an angry male voice as her partner enters the room.
"They're talking of knocking the block down."
"What did you say?" he repeated.
"They're talking of knocking the block down."
"NO. What DID YOU SAY before that?"
"That she'll get a suitable professional couple in."
"Yes, that was a bit of a swipe," she interjected.
"How DARE you," he blasted.

I'm telling you, things only got worse...

All my fault, of course, of course, that the electrics blew. One extension lead has four sockets; for my telephone, my portable telly, my now bust dvd player and my little stereo.

"You've overloaded the system!" property owner cries. "You've totally overloaded it."

What do I know, the other bracket holds my computer plugs and the set top box. I was worried perhaps I had overloaded it so was mute.

The flat is cluttered, bit more than usual because I've had things on my mind, so there's alot of paper everywhere that have got into all kinds of nooks and crannies. She starts banging on about how dangerous it is, what a fire hazard it is: "I've told you many times before and this time I'm going to have to send you a written warning." She calls in her partner to have a look (for he's in the corridor, with my torch, looking at the meter).

"It's unbelievable! It's a disgrace!" he spits.

I try to say I haven't been coping but it falls on deaf ears.

My son was stamping his little foot on the ground saying: "Don't get angry!" as the man in the room gave his ten pennies worth.

Apparantly I can stay here until December; there's a clause between the council and the housing association enabling me to so, the property owner was told. She urges me to move into a 2 bed in the private sector, she was told I'd get extra points.

When I told her I'd get extra points in July, she wouldn't believe me so I ended up having to say "I know more about this situation than you do." So she says it's better for my son. I tell her I can't afford the rent. She tells me that doesn't matter, I can't here, what's the difference.

What's the difference? I want to go back to work. High rents, risk of rent arrears, wasn't that another reason she didn't want us as private tenants????

"You refused a flat from the council three years ago!"
"Because of a BICYCLE," he interjects.
"Let's not go back there," she says.
"I need my bicycle, you've got no idea about my life," answering him. I'm getting seriously frustrated now and my eyes are beginning to prick. Not here, I'm telling myself. Not here, not with them here, those beautiful tears I've been desperate for.
"Well you're just going to have to decide what's more important," chips in the owner. "Your bicycle or a secure home for your child."
"You know NOTHING about my life," I shout. "Nothing about the pressures I'm under."
"You can't always get what you want and it's a very dangerous fire hazard here. You stupid girl!"
"I may be a girl but I am not stupid," I roar. "He is a boy but he is not stupid."
"How DARE YOU speak to her like that," says bully boy.
"WHY NOT? YOU ARE TO ME."
"Enough now," says the property owner. Too fucking right. I did end up just crying though, tears plopping on my son's head. I was SO angry.

Oh God, I've not even told you that when my son asked if we could light the candle he'd made at school bully boy told him "no" because "the whole flat will go up in flames." Wanker.
As they leave, my son asks if we can light the candles I've gotten from my room and he can't resist it can he? He can't resist his little parting shot.
"You won't need a whole box of matches, just striking one should be enough to set the place on fire."
"You tell your partner," I say to the property owner, "that I do not appreciate his sarcasm."

And with that, they were gone and I let my tears run hot.

I didn't touch the pizza that got delivered but my neighbour saved me. She put my food in her freezer and gave me Al Cohol. Lovely, lovely Al Cohol.

Bonnie, my flat is falling apart!!

Bonnie, a couple of weeks ago, you understood that I was falling apart. Bonnie, I didn't tell you the flat was too...

My curtain rail had broken but then two days after playing with you, well something happened to my front door!

I shut it a little too hard and the lock, which is embedded on a piece of wood within the old knackered frame, flew out! Now I lock the front door behind me but I can gently push it open for re-entry.

Luckily there's another lock on the door so I didn't call the property owner, who's partner had tried to sort out the crumbling frame a few months ago.

Then at the weekend, the electrics kept cutting out. The meter was fizzing again, quite literally, "giving off sparks"!

Monday afternoon the whole thing went off as my son was playing on the computer. The flat would have been thrown into pitch darkness had the clocks not gone forward Sunday! I'd hit another downer too so a bit of a coincidence really.

I thought it might be a powercut but my neighbours were fine.

I thought of you Bonnie, I did.

Oh electrician, electrician, it's all fallen apart, and I need you now tonight and I need you more than ever and you'll only be making things right, it won't ever go wrong....

Only I couldn't play your song.
Nor could I cook or reheat my son a meal.
All the handmade food in the freezer would melt.
And finally, finally, the dam burst and I cried.

I needed to cry Bonnie, so thank you xxx

Electric Dreams

Electric Dreamboat (well, dreamy twinkling eyes at any rate) has just been round to look at my meter.

The fuse box is no longer fizzing so it was rather like booking an appointment with a doctor when you have the flu but being sniffle free on the day of the appointment.

The fizzing, he said, is not dangerous but over time can burn the cables and go "Boom!" At which point the whole flat will shut down. He said it needs replacing.

"Well can I replace it soon then?" I asked
"That is up to the council."
"Well this flat is owned privately, so should I get the landlord to do it?"
"No, the block belongs to the council and the whole thing has to be rewired," he told me, eyes still twinkling. "It is part of the council's plan to rewire all of its estates. Some have been done, but lots, like yours have been left behind."
"So what can I do?"
"Nothing until then, but you are lucky. Some flats I have visited, the box fizzes all the time. The old people they tell me they can't sleep at night."
"Oh crikey. Well, yes, I guess I just wait for the fizz fizz BOOM!"
"Yes," he laughs.

The opening of a Black Eyed Peas song fizzes into my mind

crackle crackle crackle crackle crackle crackle
Gotta get-get, gotta get-get
Gotta get-get, g-g-g-get-get-get, get-get

Boom boom boom, gotta get-get
Boom boom boom, gotta get-get
Boom boom boom, gotta get-get
Boom boom boom, gotta get-get

BOOM

Verdi protests

I set about doing the tidy/cleaning thing with "La Traviata" on toppish volume. In amongst the clutter I find an unopened letter from EDF. I open it to find that someone is going to come round to do an essential maintenance check on my electricity meter to make sure it's safe.

Someone is coming round, er, last September. Whoops. I tear it up into shreds to put in my recycling bag whilst simultaneously wondering why I am doing this as usually I keep all documents from electricity/gas/water/tv providers.

Oh well, I take my housework to the corridor, swept up by this tale of doomed love, which I brush into my dustpan.

All of a sudden, the music stops, mid aria. In its place the electricity meter starts to fizz. I switch on the light. It's not a power cut. The meter continues to fizz quite manically, enough for me in a moment of terror, to rush outside should the flat blow up. It doesn't so I step back inside.

Damn me. Damn me! I dig into my black 'recycling' bag and take out lots of little pieces of paper and sat cross legged on a slither of kitchen floor, try and piece enough of it back together again to call EDF. They're coming in the morning.

The meter has calmed down when I finish all that so I start the cd player again, from the beginning, and move into the bedroom.

Alfredo declares his love, Violetta answers that friendship is all she can offer, love is so painful she avoids it, pleasure is all she asks of life! Stigmum feels it so acutely, she picks up stray clothes and throws them with passion into the "dirty pile".

The music stops again! The meter fizzing uncontrollably! We abandon our task, it's nearly time for the school run anyway. The meter relaxes and I've not heard a peep out of it since. The CD player's working fine too, churned out some Brit Pop songs while the boys played.

I can only assume, having considered these turn of events these past few hours, that Verdi didn't like housework and wanted no part in my own. Alas. Can't blame him though, treacherous job so it is...