I am an accountant. Technically, if you want to be really, really picky about this, I am a Chartered Accountant (Institute of England and Wales if you want to check it out...).

It's my dad's fault - he told me I'd never stick it...

He could have told me I'd never make it as an astrophysicist, an architect, an anthropologist, but no, he had to tell me I'd never be an accountant.
Of all things...


I know

No, actually it's worse than that...

But you know, it's a handy enough trade. World always needs number crunchers, yadda yadda yadda. World might not want to hear what you did all day, but you know world pays the going rate.

Trouble is you can be too NICE to be an accountant. It's like plumbing. World always needs plumbers and accountants at the WORST times. At SHORT NOTICE because there is a CRISIS which will ENGULF them. Sensible plumbers set very high call out rates to keep their weekends and evenings free. I don't know what sensible accountants do.. because I keep hearing from people in the shit.

People who forgot they had a tax return to do..people who thought that Her Majesty's Revenue and Customs and Companies House, and the Charities Regulator would all go away if they just ignored them for long enough.

No. I don't know how these rumours start either.

And I am too NICE to tell them it's Not My Problem. I Am No Longer in Practice. I have a day job which takes up enough of my time, and provides enough various and odd numbers to amuse me all day (and some of my weekends) thanks very much.

I have tried. I have tried to say no. I have produced sets of accounts which show eye watering losses, I have completed Business Plans which show this person is a blintering idiot and shouldn't be loaned any more money. I have ruthlessly weeded out non deductible expenses from tax returns...
And still I get the desperate e-mails.
Because I helped out last year and the year before because I am an idiot who is too NICE. And cheap.. because I am NICE.

Today there was yet another development. Despite having said no, and ignored the e-mails..I got a large brown envelope from the Wee Glasgae Church... stuffed with the usual incomplete sets of bank statements, random invoices.. and scary official forms.

Plumbers have it easy. No one can send them a blocked sink in the post.

Apparently Grief is an Aphrodisiac

Posted on 17:47 In:
Can't say I've noticed.

Must cry harder.

And proving once again, that Edinburgh really is the centre of the universe, (or a town full of hicks desperately needing to outdo Glasgow. I can do both sides of that argument), tomorrow we have none other than the Pope amongst us.
The Pope!
The Pope???
Yep the POPE.
(Stick that Glasgow....)

Yeah we've got the Pope most of the day. The Man is going to arrive at Edinburgh International Airport (... get us...you'd think we'd more than one runway or something..). He's then going to drive through the centre of Edinburgh - a feat no ordinary local can manage in these days of tramworks let me tell you. Then he'll meet the Queen before driving off for a cup of tea with a couple of, (presumably forewarned) bishops over in Morningside.

And thousands of the faithful will be flocking to line his route.
And every catholic school in the Central Scotland has been given the day off to go see and wave flags..
And hundreds of vociferous protesters will be making some major points about Child Abuse, and Women Priests and Aids in Africa..
And since it's St Ninian's day there will be Parades and Bands and, oh I don't know confetti and free Irn Bru or whatever.

And it's great... fine.. I mean I'm no pal of John Knox either you know... it's just they've forgotten to let me know how the hell I'm meant to get to work when every main road between Cheesetown and the Institute is going to be closed or packed with the faithful....

The Determination Officer Has Spoken

Posted on 20:27 In: ,
Yes it has been quiet around here recently, what with.. well what with whatever it was I was busy with lately.
Dog walking
Jivamukti Yoga
Court appearances
(Only one of those is true by the way ...)

The days are shortening, and rain and leaves are pelting down, and the one bright spot The Cherub and I have decided on is the pre-ordering of Halo Reach. So it is with Great Excitement that we got a notice to go and collect a packet at the post office.
It needed signed for....

Guess what?

Maybe she just realised I wasn't going to give up ...

Welcome to the car crash...

I have a complicated bereavement. I was only reconciled with my ex, W, months before he died of cancer. Luckily (for him) I was made redundant and able to care for him while he died here at home - October 20th.
Currently getting through it with our son, aka the Cherub, dog Ned, and friends here in CHEESETOWN.

Who Needs a Booker Prize?

Who Needs a Booker Prize?
Sunny Thinks I'm Stylish

Wylye Hearted This Blog

Alive and Kicking

Not Forgotten