Back from Honeymoon... [Update]
So, I'm back from honeymoon with my new wife, the synonymous kyte And (in extreme summary) The wedding was just about perfect and the Honeymoon was damn wonderful - More thoughts to follow at a later date.
But, Goddess, did the real world decide to reassert itself on our return:
Firstly, we arrive home from honeymoon (via Shona's birthday bash and Andy's Eurovision party - good times and lots of fun) to find that the entrance to our apartment building
['Apartment building' - that sounds lots better than 'block of flats', doesn't it?]
to find building site signage ('Hard hats to be worn' and worse) and barriers blocking our way. Ignoring these, we got home to find out that, in our absence the sewerage pipes in the building basement had exploded and everyone had been moved out! No water or drains use allowed. :( We stayed there that night and were put into what the peep from the Housing Association told us it was a 'B&B'. He lied! It was a nasty nasty hostel from HELL for the next night. Yukyukyukyuk.
The saving grace was that we only had to spend a night there before being allowed back. Yay!
Secondly, the Council Tax people had been having a paddy over us daring to miss a payment while we were in the middle of Wedding-preparation-panic and had sent us a warning (while we were in sunny bratislava, mind you) telling us to pay up in full *now* or expect the Bailiffs round.
Talking to them on the phone produced not a single drip of humanity so, taking my own advice, I trumped up in person to embarrass someone at the council offices this afternoon.
Jesus are those people cold! I tried to explain all the circumstances and how getting married was a one-off event and wouldn't be exactly be getting in the way again in the future. Nothing, nada, zilch. It took me explaining that we could afford the monthly payments, but not the whole amount and frankly getting myself into a state in front of them to squeeze any concessions. To wit: If we paid three month's tax now, they'd rescind the 'final' (and also the first) notice) THIS TIME, but woe become us if we slip again, our head would be on the chopping blocks, et cetera.
Anyhow, we were thence naughty people and got our wrists appropriately slapped, and the day got much better from there.
Bleugh!
But, Goddess, did the real world decide to reassert itself on our return:
Firstly, we arrive home from honeymoon (via Shona's birthday bash and Andy's Eurovision party - good times and lots of fun) to find that the entrance to our apartment building
['Apartment building' - that sounds lots better than 'block of flats', doesn't it?]
to find building site signage ('Hard hats to be worn' and worse) and barriers blocking our way. Ignoring these, we got home to find out that, in our absence the sewerage pipes in the building basement had exploded and everyone had been moved out! No water or drains use allowed. :( We stayed there that night and were put into what the peep from the Housing Association told us it was a 'B&B'. He lied! It was a nasty nasty hostel from HELL for the next night. Yukyukyukyuk.
The saving grace was that we only had to spend a night there before being allowed back. Yay!
Secondly, the Council Tax people had been having a paddy over us daring to miss a payment while we were in the middle of Wedding-preparation-panic and had sent us a warning (while we were in sunny bratislava, mind you) telling us to pay up in full *now* or expect the Bailiffs round.
Talking to them on the phone produced not a single drip of humanity so, taking my own advice, I trumped up in person to embarrass someone at the council offices this afternoon.
Jesus are those people cold! I tried to explain all the circumstances and how getting married was a one-off event and wouldn't be exactly be getting in the way again in the future. Nothing, nada, zilch. It took me explaining that we could afford the monthly payments, but not the whole amount and frankly getting myself into a state in front of them to squeeze any concessions. To wit: If we paid three month's tax now, they'd rescind the 'final' (and also the first) notice) THIS TIME, but woe become us if we slip again, our head would be on the chopping blocks, et cetera.
Anyhow, we were thence naughty people and got our wrists appropriately slapped, and the day got much better from there.
Bleugh!