Every Little Helps

So, as if our life was not difficult enough, we have now been boycotted by the Tesco delivery drivers at our local store.

You may remember, those of you who have been paying attention, that we are stuck in a 2nd floor flat with several furry things, three children of varying sizes, a bloke with a poorly leg and worse arm (according to the council "at danger of becoming housebound") and me with a bad back.

Perhaps they thought I was getting a bit above myself and didn't really deserve to have my shopping delivered. A bit posh sounding, too many fresh fruit and vegetables for someone living in a council flat with a piss stained lobby, liable to phone the helpline to ascertain that yes, you lazy bastard, you are supposed to climb the stair and DELIVER her shopping to the front door (unless of course you can make up some excuse to do with health and safety at work and then you'll have her over a barrel).

After an angry exchange via the intercom and accusations involving the sighting of a hypodermic syrringe, I called the local store who apparently knew all about it. They didn't. Neither did the local housing office, environmental services or street cleansing emergency response team who are actually the poor souls who have top go out and retrieve these things.

Another call to another bod at Tesco who apologised but said she could not compel her driver to deliver to me under their terms and conditions. She was informed that according to the City Council there had never, ever been a report of a needle and none had been cleaned up from here. She passed me on to head office who were supposed to email me. Jim (a very nice man) rang me to say one was on its way - of course none turned up. He rang back the next day and spoke to the artist who's not great on the phone when both arms work but the upshot was that the hypo - was not really the issue - it was the piss and the skanky nature of our abode - not his words - mine. He was very pleasant and as helpful as could be at all times. He also informed us that we had now been boycotted (again, my word) by all the drivers.

Now, you probably think I should be furious with Tesco. I'm not. I'm furious with the first driver who had been to the flat before and very reluctantly had had to deliver up the stairs.

I'm humiliated by the fact that the whole garage has boycotted us and in fact one of them called me "number X", our address.

In the mean time, we are back to lugging it all on the bus - there's no advantage to a cab as it would only stop in the self same plaace as the bus - to cap it all off very nicely the wheels on the shopping trolley went yesterday.

Tis the season to be jolly, fna, fna, fna.