I'm Moving...

From today, I will be blogging on my new blog at www.magentawrites.co.uk

Dear Hubby bought my very own domain name for me since the response to the blog in this last short period has been so great.  I thank you all who have followed me here, and would ask that if you have been enjoying what Magenta Writes... here, please pop over to the new site and follow me there.

I will be playing around with the format for a while as I want to bring more areas into the blog - more writing, more Grandparenting, more of my other passions such as Complementary Medicine and my Open University studies.  The new blog will hopefully allow me to do that in a more creative way.

Thanks for being here, and if you have followed a link from elsewhere to get here, please click on and join me at www.magentawrites.co.uk

The Customer is Always Right – ya think?

Colchester High Street, pic from telegraph.co.uk

OK, so I am feeling rather p***ed off at the moment.  I have size 9 feet and that makes shopping for shoes a trial in itself.  I recently went to buy some new ones, the old ones were hanging on by a thread.  The High Street in the nearest large town to me (Colchester) offers a couple of budget options (I'm a mum, we don’t do expensive shoes – school shoes come first).  I went into the first and lo! they had a pair that fit me like a glove – a triumph of which I am all too aware.  The shelf announced a price that was within my budget – another triumph!  I was doing so well, but then I went to pay for them...

Sales Assistant: ‘That will be £16.99.’

I hand over cash – not card, credit or otherwise – cash, all the time thinking that I am sure the shelf said £12.99

Shoes are shoved into a carrier bag by surly Sales Assistant and pushed back across the counter to me.

I turn, still aching at the amount the shoes have cost and glance back at the shelf-edge price ticket – sure enough it still says £12.99

I return to the till, bag in hand and ask the Sales Assistant to check the price for me.

Sales Assistant: ‘I charged you the price on the till,’ surliness increasing with each breath.

Me: ‘Would you mind checking that please, the price is not the same as the one on the shelf.’

(I nod to hubby and ask him to take a photo of the shelf – just in case I need it later.)

Sales Assistant: ‘Well the till is right.’

Me: ‘I think you will find that you have to charge me the price that is on display – don’t you?’

Sales Assistant: ‘Well I can’t change it now.’

Me: ‘If you can’t charge me the correct amount, I would like a refund please.’

(BIG MISTAKE!)

Sales Assistant: ‘I can’t take them back, there’s nothing wrong with them.’

(A fine head of steam is now building in my chest – and I am a big woman.)

Me: ‘Yes, there is – the price is incorrect and I would like my money back please.’

Sales Assistant: OK, well I will need your address and postcode then.’

Me: ‘Pardon?’

Sales Assistant: ‘I need them for the system.’

Me: Well I don’t want to give you my personal details; I paid cash not by card so you don’t need them.’

Sales Assistant: ‘Well I can’t do it without your postcode.’

(PMT is kicking in now, I’m getting angry, face is turning red and I’m going to blow, any minute.)

Me: ‘I‘d like to speak to the Manager please.’

Sales Assistant now proceeds to call the Manager downstairs from her office.  It takes three of four minutes for her to get to the shop floor.  When she arrives, I find myself looking at someone who appears to be about 17 years old.  She sees a woman who is about to explode.  The tale is recounted by Sales Assistant, who is now feigning tears to add insult to injury.  My turn now.

Me: ‘I’d simply like a refund please, I no longer want these shoes and I will never shop here again.’

Manager: ‘What’s your postcode please?’

Me: I’m not giving you my postcode; I just want my money back!’

Manager: The till won’t let me give you a refund with a postcode.’

Me: ‘Then use the shop postcode or your own, you’re not having mine!’

Manager: ‘I can’t do that madam; it’s not allowed.’

(Wait for it...)

Me: ‘OK, give me the shoes and my receipt please.  I have a photograph with the price on the shelf a sit stand today.  I’m now going to call Trading Standards.’

I take my mobile out of my handbag and call Directory Enquiries asking for the number for our local TS office.

(Wait for it...)

Manager: ‘I think I might be able to do it if I bypass the postcode, let me try... oh, yes, I can.’

Me: ‘Now ain’t that a surprise!’

Manager hands over the money and tries to keep my receipt.  I remind her that I will need them as evidence for when I write to her Customer Complaints department.  She is not a happy bunny.

Nor am I – I’m pre-menstrual and my old shoes are killing me!  Dear Husband is lurking near the door, looking embarrassed.  I apologise to him for causing a scene.  Arm in arm, we head down to the other shoe shop, via a cafe for a strong coffee.

The lessons here are:

• You are not required to give any personal details if you are requesting a refund for which you have made a cash purchase.
•  Never believe the price on the shelf.
• Telling a shop manager that you are about to ring Trading Standards WILL get you results.
• NEVER!!!!! Mess with a pre-menstrual woman!

What a waste...

A few nights ago, we watched a TV programme talking about food waste.  It set me thinking so I thought I would share my ruminations with y’all.

As a shopper, I like to think I’m fairly savvy – I go for the ‘bogofs’ and such the like, but only when they are items that we actually use.  I try to keep a store-cupboard of essential items in tins and jars – just in case of power cuts, fuel shortages, acts of God and so on but I rotate the contents and keep an eye on the dates.  And here is where it all goes a bit personal.  I’m NOT a slave to the printed dates on our foods.

There are three types of date on our food.  First up is the ‘Sell By’ or ‘Display Until’ date.  This one is purely for the seller, it has nothing to do with whether or not the contents of the package are going to poison you after that date, so in short, as shoppers, the only time that this date becomes of interest to us is when it results in a price decrease!  Nice one!

Image from thisismoney.co.uk

The second sort of date found on our foods is the ‘Best Before’ date.  These are the shopper’s friend again, because they often result in reduced prices on or close to the date on the packaging.  Usually these will be fine to eat for a good while after the date – it’s an advisory date.  Tins and jars of food will have this on them and can safely be used for some years after the date as long as the tin is not damaged or in the case of jars, the seal is still intact.  Even items such as biscuits and other dry goods can safely be used for months after the date as long as the packaging is in good order.

The last sort of date is the ‘Use By’ date.  This one is pretty much there to keep you safe and well – it’s on things like milk, meat and fish that will ‘go off’ quite quickly and cause you some nasty tummy problems if you eat them when they are off.  Generally, this one needs to be stuck to, although one day past the date I would happily use most foods, and even a couple if it looks and smells fine.

So where does this leave the state of my bins you ask?  Ok, for a family of six, we put one bin liner out for collection one week and two the next.  However, we also have a wheelie bin full of recycling – mostly packaging, it has to be said.  Veg peelings are given to the rabbits and guinea pig, except for the potatoes, which I am going to try turning into wine – watch this space.  We don’t waste food on plates – when it’s on your plate – you darned well eat it!  I do pay attention to particular dislikes such as one of our boys really doesn’t like gravy and it’s no hardship to leave it off his plate so we don’t get waste.  We don’t buy anything that we are not going to eat before it goes off, and if we have a glut of fresh foods, we freeze them.  I’m lucky enough to have two freezers which are pretty much full all of the time but again, the contents are rotated to prevent wastage.

When I shop, I have a broad plan in mind of the meals that we will eat for the week.  It is flexible enough to include those all important ‘bogofs’ but not so fluid that I will reach out for anything available.  In my humble opinion, there-in lies the secret to having les food waste.  It’s also a good way to make sure that in a large household, you can try to please all of the people some of the time, which is no mean feat as you probably know.

What strategies do you have for reducing food waste?  Share with me please, I’m always willing to learn.

Children's 'Firsts' (1) ...

I’ve been thinking about the joys that my daughter has in store for her in the coming months and years as her son grows and learns. 

First up, I thought about the smell of a new born baby’s skin.  It is an aroma which cannot be replicated by any other means.  Next I thought about that overwhelming moment when you fall in love with your offspring.  It can hit you like a truck, or it can sneak up on you and whack you over the head, but sure as God made little green apples, one day you realise that you would truly die for this little person.

I thought about the first smile, the first tooth, the first words and all of those ‘firsts’ about which the wonder never fades, whether it is your first child or the seventh.

There is one ‘first’ however, that never fails to crease me up.  One day whilst walking along a peaceful, leafy path on our way to town, my eldest son looked up at me from his innocent three-year-old face and said, ‘Mummy, is Bollocks a naughty word?’ ...

One of those weeks...

Blogging seems to be hard this week.  There are so many things going on around me and in the wider sense, around the country, that my mind is pretty frazzled.

This is one of the consequences of having Fibromyalgia and ‘information overload’ – the brain just turns tail and hides somewhere out of reach till it all dies down a bit!  I wish I knew where it hides, then I could go hide with it cos at the moment, the rest of me is still trying to deal with four kids on summer break, interviews for the two men in the house, middle daughter in a flap, teen daughter’s hair dye issues, coughs – the sort that bark all through the house all night, Lego and oh soooo much more!

I have four gallons of wine waiting to be bottled and another seven waiting to be racked, none of which I have the energy for, and in the grand scheme of things, it’s probably not that important.

On Monday, I baked – all day.  We filled eight tins with various muffins, cookies and flapjacks and when I say tins – I mean the tins that your Roses come in for Christmas.

Tuesday, spent trying to recover from Monday, did too much, felt like poo.  Middle son had a call to say that he had an interview on Thursday, so it was all hands on decks to find his certificates and show him how to press his suit.

Wednesday was to be a study day – the morning in the library and then the afternoon with Middle Daughter before hitting the home run to be back in time to host my weekly Healing Circle online.

Thursday – recovering from Wednesday.  Had a migraine and felt sick all day, read nothing, wrote nothing, did nothing – period!

And today, well today I am trying to get to grips with some software but my head is still all muzzy from the week and the weather.  Perhaps I’ll go lie down for a while... but I have to make a shopping list for the weekly shop. 

Dear Husband will be hot footing it home from work tonight to do the regular supermarket run.  Two trolleys, one man, one woman and a list!  We will fight them in the aisles, we will fight them at the checkouts, we will do battle with carrier bags and boxes.  When we reach the hallowed peace of home again, we will do battle with cupboards, fridge and freezers.  We’ll get it all put away just in time to flake out in front of the TV for an hour with luck, before one or both of us fall asleep.

And so we come to the weekend...  is there any wonder this is my first blog post this week?

Toys + Nostalgia = Granny-itis Hits Again

Toys have once again become a part of my life.  Not the teen type toys that my younger kids still have, or the Lego that never dies, but baby toys.  Toys like shape sorters and rattles and Duplo.  Teething rings that you put in the fridge which then leak anyway once your little one sinks their first pearly whites into them.  Teddies and other soft toys made of garishly coloured fabrics with incessant noises emanating from them at inopportune moments.  You know the ones – all you mums know the ones I’m talking about.

I had cleared most of the ones in our house about two years ago, when I finally admitted that we no longer had babies in the house, but now of course, we have our grandson, and the toys are quietly breeding whilst they are in the toy bag at night.  I swear that each time I tip them out; there are more in it than last time I looked.  I have no idea (honest!!!!) of where they are coming from, except for the occasional suspicious looking bag coming home from car boot sales or trips into town.  They are multiplying oh so very slowly but surely.

Last weekend, an attack of Granny-itis struck whilst we were out and a shape-sorter ball came home with us.  I felt a pang of nostalgia for the old Tupperware one that my kids had about twenty five years ago, and a pang of guilt for having shipped it off to a charity shop in the clear out two years ago.  Then a little later in the morning, I found one of these lovely toys with wire frames in board, onto which coloured wooden beads have been threaded.  It was accompanied by cries of ‘Mum look – I remember playing with one of these when I was little,’ and ‘Darling nephew would love one of these Mum!’  So I was powerless to resist, would you have been able to deprive such a great little chap of the chance to make the same memories that you and your kids have?

I admit it – I’m a sucker!  But I feel totally justified because the little man concerned loved them when he was here with us yesterday.  He got his uncles to play with the shape sorter for him – just to show him how to do it of course.  He pushed and pulled at the bead frame, then made eyes at his uncles till they showed him what to do with it.  They even went and found a few dinky cars for him to fill with dribble!  Aren’t they the best uncles ever!

I wonder if any of you other grandmas and mums out there have also been sucked in by nostalgia when buying toys?  Make a comment on this posting and share with us.

For A Child In My Heart... A Poem

Today, I thought I would share with you something that I wrote earlier this year.  I know many women have miscarriages, or lost a child at a very young age.  Even though those children have gone before they got here, they are still in our hearts forever.  This was written with that in mind.

Sarah

A little angel walks with me

everywhere I go.

She's there in times of sadness,

and times when I don't know.

She strokes my hair to comfort

and gives a guiding hand.

I miss her every single day,

but some won't understand.

Although I cannot see her,

she's still a part of me.

Her brothers feel her presence,

our little absentee.

I'm sure the cat can see her -

he won't sit on her chair.

One day I'll see my Angel,

till then, she knows I care.

©Ruth Raymer 2011