Life Insurance

With Lentil due to be born any day, and after lengthy discussions, we decided life insurance might be a good idea.

What started out as a good idea has rapidly become a major headache. It turns out that life insurance comparison quotes are nothing like that of car insurance.

With cars you simple head over to whichever brand of comparison you prefer, tell them your details, what car you have, where you live, and what your use is, and out comes a quote and that’s the price you pay.

Which life insurance you tell them your name, where you live, and what payout you want for death and if required critical illness and they give you a “quick quote”. This is nice and easy. However this is based on various assumptions relating to your health. We both quote these quick quotes at about £13.00 per month based on our needs.

Once you head over to the site to actually buy this quote you are presented with a massive health questionnaire: Have you ever had this? Have you ever had that?

Most of it is fairly straight forward, for example: neither of us have ever had a stroke or a heart attack, neither of us are overweight, or drink excessively. Where is gets complicated is when I answer the questions relating to depression, self harm and suicide, and where the questions for Buttercup are answered in relation to both of her parents having had cancer.

The first 3 companies I tried flat out refused to insure me because I have had depression and have self-harmed and been suicidal at some unspecified point in my life. Rather than ask any follow up questions relating to this, they just declined me. The third company I tried, did ask a few follow up questions, and it appears that once they were told that actually all this stuff happened over 5 years ago, they were ok with it. My premium increased a little from the initial £13 to £15, but this is a small price to pay. I understand how insurance risks work given that I work in the insurance industry (albeit cars not life, but same overall principal).

Buttercups application was similar. The first 3 (same companies as me) have put her on a “pending” decision, so while we wait for that I went to that fourth company for me, they again asked a few extra questions and again decided they will accept Buttercup, but at an increased premium of £20.

It would appear that the aforementioned assumptions are that you are perfectly healthy, you have never had any health issues (physical or mental), and neither have your family. Which if this is the case you absolutely can get the cheapest premium they offer. Except, and not to be too blunt, or put too fine a point on this, who hasn’t had depression at some point, who hasn’t had cancer in their family somewhere.

On closer inspection the life policy itself is not too expensive, both are about £6 a month, its the critical illness cover which really does it.

Lets be honest, we all know insurance is a bit of a con at times. My 21 year policy at £15 a month will cost me a total of £3780 which assuming i don’t get any form of critical illness and  I don’t die in that time (which I really hope I don’t, naturally), will result in a lot of money spent for nothing. On the other hand putting that money in to savings over 21 years would not ever accrue enough interest to result in a quarter million pound payout upon my death. So I guess its worth it.

Ultimately we are protecting our child’s future more than anything else. Can you really put a price on that?

Oh Christmas do, Oh Christmas do

Office Holiday Party

November 30th

Everyone loves a works Christmas do. Well…everyone except me. They’re a tedious charade.

What do you mean I have to spend my free time with work people. People who the majority of I can’t stand, and those that I don’t actively despise, I barely tolerate within the work environment. Don’t get me wrong, there exists a handful of people who I actually quite like, and get on with very well, some of whom I even consider friends. But they are really only work friends. My work life doesn’t come home with me if I can help it.

So why would I want to give up my free time, to allow work to seep its way in to my personal life?! Oh right, because its “the done thing”.

Wait, hang on, I have to pay as well? Goddammit. Well I guess it’s not much to ask for food and booze and entertainment. Except the food doesn’t interest me, except the cheese board. And I won’t be drinking in case of needing to escape quickly (to the hospital).

I’m quite interested to see if my request of a cheeseboard for starter, main, and dessert, has been accepted. The actual starters and mains didn’t really speak to me.

December 1st


God. An entire evening with a hundred people I don’t like. And this is just the small event. The main company event is in a few weeks and is about 300 people, though the Bury Lodge events are usually a lot better than the others. And again we will have the car so can make a quick getaway if we want or need to.


Further discussions are held regarding how much neither of us want to go. And yet we still will. Buttercup is uncomfortable all the time. So this evening will be worse than normal. Uncomfortable and surrounded be drunk colleagues. While sober.


We have to be in the office to start the night in about 15 minutes. I’m more or less ready (very little effort being put in to this). Buttercup is not dressed. She can’t find anything that fits without her feeling fat. Pointing out that she’s not fat she’s pregnant doesn’t help. Pointing out that I think she looks gorgeous in anything also does not help. Wish me luck.


Johnny Cash came to visit. No idea what I’ve eaten to cause that. Fun times ahead!

Inappropriate? I know…


I had forgotten about the drag show. Three managers dressed up. Not gonna lie, this was actually a good laugh. Did a better job than I would have. That’s being said I would have had to do it at gunpoint because there’s no way I would have done it willingly.

HIC Drag Show: SJW
“What have I done with my life”
HIC Drag Show: NW
“Absolutely loving having hair again”
HIC Drag Show: SA
“Morticia Addams meets Harley Quinn”


Begin the murder of Fairytale of New York by inebriated colleagues. The one beer I’m allowed tonight is not nearly enough to make this tolerable. Though that being said I’m pretty sure this particular festive jingle was already murdered many moons ago by The Pogues.

7.30pm – 10.30pm

Cometh the hour, cometh the food. Sort of. Tooks a while for each course to be delivered, but then with 30 people in the group plus the restaurants other customers I guess there was quite a lot to do. Did not enjoy the food, it was bland at best, cannot believe we paid £30 a head for this. The night just seem to go on and on, certain managers just seemed to get drunker and drunker. Once in particular broke 3 glasses (that I know of) and fell of her chair at least once. I feel sorry for the other guests. Actually I feel more sorry for Buttercup and I. As you may have guessed, we didn’t want to be here.

The Baby Bedroom Bonanza Pt 2

Well, that was fun. Two beds dismantled, one moved to another room and then re-assembled, the other disposed of (more or less), one cot built, and various bits of sorting out sorted out.

Ginger came round to help, for which I am so very grateful, there is no way I would have achieved it all without him, and there is only so much Buttercup can do, given that she can’t really do much lifting or heavy stuff; and flat-packing is not my forte!

Although a lot of boxes and files went up in the lost space there is still so much of dads stuff needing sorting out still.

One thing that was quite interesting was how many old photos we found of dad and his family. Some photos I had seen before, but some never! As well as this we found various letters of commendation from earlier in dads police career as a beat bobby. Two in particular stood out to me. The first commending dad on having broken in to a gentleman’s garage using a spade and providing first aid at this incident which according to the superintendent

may have stopped a fatal incident

The other noted that over the course of several hours, dad, along with a colleague, talked a man down from a bridge where he was threatening to jump.

How incredible that I may never have seen these letters if Buttercup and I hadn’t have fallen pregnant, moved in to the flat, and needed to sort out these files!

The Baby Bedroom Bonanza

Well this is it. With only a short while to go (33 days at the time of writing this post), it is time for Buttercup and I to get the room for Lentil sorted out.

Lentil is due to arrive on 29th December, and therefore won’t actually need their own room until about June, but we already have a lot of baby furniture so it needs to go somewhere. Cot Bed, changing table and various other bits, all take up a lot of room, especially in a two bedroom flat.

Our problem is that with dad having moved out to Paphos, and and us having moved in to his flat, there is a lot of his stuff still knocking about. Most of his things have already gone to Cyprus, but other non-essentials are still here. Some bits like paperwork obviously need to be retained so will go in the loft space (one of the perks of being on the top floor and having a hatch in to the roof void). Other bits need sorting out and either chucking, or getting stored elsewhere. This is where the fun begins.

Quite honestly I really don’t know what we are going to do with a lot of the stuff. I don’t know where to begin. What is important? What isn’t? What of the stuff I see as useless is sentimental to him? Or is there anything that I think he would want me to keep but actually is just junk?

I think every man has that weird dream of starting with an empty room and building a dream nursery from nothing. I have a nightmare instead. Knowing that I am starting with a full room, and ending with a full room. No blank canvas, no drawing board, no real plan. I know what I am starting with, and I know what I need to finish with, I just don’t know what the bit in the middle is.

Currently the task list is as follows:

  1. Assess room
  2. ????
  3. Admire achievement

I mean, seriously, I don’t think I could have a worse plan if I tried.

Buttercup tells me not to stress about it, and I know I really shouldn’t. I can’t help it though, it’s what I do, it’s the kind of person that I am. I could literally scream.

Who knows. We’re getting started on this monumental task tomorrow. So we’ll see what happens then….

Sick Days: A Call Center Agents Dilemma

As a general rule, most people don’t want to take time off work when they are ill. they’d rather just get one with it. Especially when their main symptom is a cough and sore throat.


Around about this time every year office bugs do their rounds; making a large proportion of the office staff snotty, and cough and yucky. It gives people sore throats, and causes issues with speech as a result. In most jobs this wouldn’t be an issue; you just grab some lemsip, dose yourself up, and crack on. So what happens when you work in a call center?

In a call center your voice is your job, without it you cannot work.

Yesterday I took my third sick day in three years, which I personally think is an extremely good sick rate (3 in 1095, or 1 in 364, or 0.27%). However before I made the decision to call in sick, I had the cell center agents dilemma.

The more people that call in sick, the higher the pressure for the remaining staff. This whole week I have been in, but other staff have been off sick as well. On one of the days I was in we were 12 people down (not all sick, some were off as holiday) but it mean the pressure mounted for the rest of us to pick up the pace. As always we managed. But for me, taking a day off sick isn’t as simple as taking a day off to rest up and get better.

I know I am letting my team down, I know that the calls I am not there to take still exist, so someone else will have to do them. I know I am letting my team manager down. I know I am not getting paid as well.

This is why the dilemma. There is zero protection for call center agents. If we’re becoming ill, we just get on with it. Because there is no paid sick leave for the first three days. So nobody takes preventative measures to ensure that they don’t become more ill. Because they don’t want to lose money.

Our company recently sent an email round which can be summarised as

“if you call in sick, don’t forget, you’re letting your team down”

I assume the idea was more to get staff to only call in sick if they really truly need to. But there’s no denying, there was a lot of grumbling about that being borderline bullying.

Personally I think if a bigger effort was made to lookout for the welfare of staff before they get ill, less would be inclined to take time off sick. I also think if a better effort was made to sort out the offices mouse problem, there would be less germs. We all know how the plague happened….

Computer mouse

Wedding Bells: Dilemmas and Complications

November 2019: The long awaited wedding of Buttercup and I.

Except, I can’t picture it. Not because I don’t think it’s going to happen, it definitely will. But because I don’t have a clue exactly how it’s going to happen.

As we are paying for the whole thing ourselves, we have to budget and only have what we can afford. This means cutting out things we really want, like a fancy wedding car, because we just don’t have the money. Mum seems to think that dad should pay for our wedding because she paid for my sisters. What mum doesn’t realise is that my sister and dad have barely spoken in the last decade, whereas I have maintained a good relationship with both of them.

We thought about having a small ceremony to again cut back on costs, but this would involve having my mum, dad, and sister in very close proximity. Which given the highly volatile relationship triangle between the three of them doesn’t seem like the best idea.

Both mum and dad have stated that they would just ignore the other at the event, and as such there is nothing to worry about between them. I don’t believe this. Something will happen. Because it’s not just them I have to worry about. It’s the other family members.

It’s almost Romeo and Juliet. Except the Montagues and Capulets aren’t two rival families, they’re warring sides of one family. And nobody will end up dead…

Eggsit Means Eggsit

LEAVER: I want an omelette.

REMAINER: Right. It’s just we haven’t got any eggs.

LEAVER: Yes, we have. There they are. [HE POINTS AT A CAKE]

REMAINER: They’re in the cake.

LEAVER: Yes, get them out of the cake, please.

REMAINER: But we voted in 1975 to put them into a cake.

LEAVER: Yes, but that cake has got icing on it. Nobody said there was going to be icing on it.

REMAINER: Icing is good.

LEAVER: And there are raisins in it. I don’t like raisins. Nobody mentioned raisins. I demand another vote.




LEAVER: Right, where’s my omelette?

REMAINER: I told you, the eggs are in the cake.

LEAVER: Well, get them out.

EU: It’s our cake.

JEREMY CORBYN: Yes, get them out now.

REMAINER: I have absolutely no idea how to get them out. Don’t you know how to get them out?

LEAVER: Yes! You just get them out and then you make an omelette.

REMAINER: But how?! Didn’t you give this any thought?

LEAVER: Saboteur! You’re talking eggs down. We could make omelettes before the eggs went into the cake, so there’s no reason why we can’t make them now.

THERESA MAY: It’s OK, I can do it.


THERESA MAY: There was a vote to remove the eggs from the cake, and so the eggs will be removed from the cake.

REMAINER: Yeah, but…

LEAVER: Hang on, if we take the eggs out of the cake, does that mean we don’t have any cake? I didn’t say I didn’t want the cake, just the bits I don’t like.

EU: It’s our cake.

REMAINER: But you can’t take the eggs out of the cake and then still have a cake.

LEAVER: You can. I saw the latest Bake Off and you can definitely make cakes without eggs in them. It’s just that they’re horrible.

REMAINER: Fine. Take the eggs out. See what happens.

LEAVER: It’s not my responsibility to take the eggs out. Get on with it.

REMAINER: Why should I have to come up with some long-winded incredibly difficult chemical process to extract eggs that have bonded at the molecular level to the cake, while somehow still having the cake?

LEAVER: You lost, get over it.

THERESA MAY: By the way, I’ve started the clock on this.

REMAINER: So I assume you have a plan?

THERESA MAY: Actually, back in a bit. Just having another election.

REMAINER: Jeremy, are you going to sort this out?

JEREMY CORBYN: Yes. No. Maybe.

EU: It’s our cake.

LEAVER: Where’s my omelette? I voted for an omelette.

REMAINER: This is ridiculous. This is never going to work. We should have another vote, or at least stop what we’re doing until we know how to get the eggs out of the cake while keeping the bits of the cake that we all like.


REMAINER: Fine, I’m moving to France. The cakes are nicer there.

LEAVER: You can’t. We’ve taken your freedom of movement.