What’s The Scores, George Dawes?

Whilst on the subject of tax (as I was in my previous post... kind of) have you ever wondered where all your hard earned tax money goes...?

Ahem.

We had new doors fitted to the Gallery a couple of weeks ago. Not cheap MFI reconstituted pine doors. No. Fancy, remote-sensory, duel pump powered, automatic, DDA approved doors. In other words, doors with attitude and ruddy great knobs on (literally).

They cost someone a lot of money. My employers. The local authority (though not alas on doors).

Two weeks later there are still a number of problems with the doors.

Unconnected, exposed wiring is still hanging down either side of them. I’m trusting to luck that none of it is live or essential to the building services.

The door sensors are a bit “over zealous”. They open at the approach of visitors – fine. But when they come to close again one doors senses the other and opens again. And again. And again. In short we have flapping doors. Coming into the Art Gallery is akin to storming into the saloon bar at Tombstone, Arizona. The doors flap dramatically behind you as your order your firewater at the bar.

And lastly (though rather importantly for a security conscious art gallery), the key is impossible to turn in the lock. Honestly you need to have the strength of Geoff Capes (remember him?) to get in or out of the building. My key is now so twisted it looks like a Möbius strip.

The door men are having to come back again to put all of this right. This will be their third visit in three weeks.

Ker-ching. Thank you for your donation.

Saved By The Taxman

I must admit I’ve been feeling rather bleak of late. All down to interminable financial strain... not enough money to cover all our necessary outgoings and my attempts to alleviate this situation by acquiring a second job have all failed miserably.

But yesterday help came through the post from a very unexpected quarter.

It seems the tax office have calculated our child care benefit at a very reasonable £100 a week. This effectively covers the shortfall that we were experiencing due to Tom’s nursery fees.

Cue mega sighs of relief. We’re saved! At least for this year... Of course Karen and I can hardly believe our luck and are sure that the tax office must have miscalculated somehow... that they’re going to demand it all back at some unspecified and inconvenient point in the future.

But that doesn’t mean we aren’t going to bite their hands off accepting the money now. I can assure you it’s certainly much needed.

Mr Taxman, sir, you're a gent – I salute you.