Rite of Passage

I'm afraid that I've been a bit remiss of late. More than remiss, I've been distracted. Trying to sort out a few things, investments and the likes, and the ol' blogging's taken a bit of a back seat. Thus, I've really barely had time to sit down and partake of a nice cuppa.

Still, 'time is money, my friend', as all of those ' nice', high-profile and monied types like to repeatedly remind us. 'Always looking forward; never looking back'. I'm sure that somebody once- more than once, probably- similarly advised me. And I intend to do just that, to not look back.

The thing is, it's often difficult; more than difficult, truth be told. When life suddenly changes, in such a manner, it's almost impossible not to keep glancing over one's shoulder, wondering what the former self might have been doing now, at this precise moment in time.

Allow me to elucidate. Euro-Lottery; had a bit of a windfall. I say windfall, it was more of a landslide really. It's absolutely no exaggeration to write that it knocked me for six, it really did. I quite literally couldn't stop shaking, and it wasn't just that I hadn't been able to afford to heat the house properly. It's strange, don't you think, how such things can help to clarify one's mind on all manner of issues. All those areas of uncertainty, the misty corners of the arguments, the alarming inconsistencies, are suddenly all made crystal clear, in the blink of an eye.

I'd rather not say exactly how much I've bagged, if it's all the same to you. Needless to say, it's one tidy sum! More than enough to set the pulse racing, boost the flagging energy reserves, that sort of amount. I've set the winning ticket aside, not even cashed it in, so theoretically nobody else knows yet. Although, as will soon be made clear, one or two individuals might already suspect that something's up.

First things first, I booked myself an appointment with one of those fancy lawyers in the city. Needed to find out how to slip seamlessly into that world of 'different' taxation; don't want my 'hard-earned' money paying for all those slackers in the Public Sector. S'funny really, until the 'moment of clarity', I'd always assumed the Public Sector to be a vital backbone to our unequal society, picking up the damaged pieces as it were. Now I realise that things aren't ever quite so black and white.


To site an example, have you heard what that 'nice' Mr Wilshaw (new head of Ofsted) has been saying? And I'm sure that he must know what he's talking about; our elected representatives wouldn't just put any old hate-riddled, char-souled bigot into such an important role, charged, as he is with 'motivating' our teachers, getting the very best out of this under-fire workforce. Only the other day my usually uber-benevolent old neighbour actually used the word 'despot' whilst talking about the man. Sadly, what Sid doesn't seem to realise is exactly how many of our hard-earned taxes are simply frittered away unnecessarily, on education for example. So, yes please, Mr Wilshaw, some well-aimed efficiency savings; what possible harm could that do?

After all a great deal of that education-tax money is now what I like to call mine. I think it only fair to point out that I've invested wisely and, finally, I've seen my boat come in. And really, my lottery 'investments' are, essentially, not that different to all those made by the rich banking fraternity; it's just that when I lose I don't end up bankrupting the whole country. So taxes like Tony, Dave and George, from now on please; no point in paying the full whack if you don't need to, is there? Anyone got Tony Blair's number?

Invest, that's what the aforementioned lawyer suggested I do, so I've been putting out a few feelers in that area too. Had a word with a suggested city developer who's currently putting up twenty or so small dwellings in this wonderful, prime location. Apparently one can sidestep all sorts of planning regulations if one uses the term 'first time buyers' in the paperwork. Marvellous! Anyway, I've persuaded this 'development' chappy to see if he can't just squeeze in a few more properties; said I'd buy the lot, as an investment you understand. It's almost beyond belief, how much you can knock people down when you're a cash buyer.

I figure that if this chap can slot in another, say, six homes I'll be able to rent them out for pretty much the same amount. That way I'll be able to house (thus help out) half a dozen more families. Admittedly these dwellings are already, in the planning stage, a touch on the small side, but you can't get much for your money in the capital these days. A good steady income for me too, so 'win win!' I'll probably be slipping the proceeds into something off-shore-ish, I should imagine. The lawyer's currently drawing up the paper work; apparently he's very good and highly sought after in certain circles; no names, you understand.

Damned phone keeps ringing; you can be certain that someone's caught on and set the begging bandwagon in motion. Last night I somewhat reluctantly drew up a list of old friends that I might need to let slip into the past tense. I'm sure that a more appropriate set will soon replace the old. It's only when you're in this sort of position that you realise exactly how hard these wealthy people work for their money. More money, maybe, but consider the responsibilities and worries that I've already taken on board.

Anyway, I've also got my eye on this lovely Georgian house, set in the most idyllic location. It would be unrealistic to expect to be able to keep in touch with all of my 'old' friends if I'm going to be moving quite so far away- petrol's so expensive, isn't it? And anything less than a Bentley isn't going to sit at all well in the driveway. You see, that's another reason for quietly moving on. Luckily there's also a garage- I say garage, extensive stables really- for the 4x wheel drive that I'm also going to 'need', for when I trek up to Scotland, to the delightful bolt-hole that I've recently had my eye on. I've always considered multiple home ownership a tad immoral, but things are far more complicated now. Heaven alone knows that I'm going to need somewhere abroad to retreat to, if I'm going to pull off this tax deal. And another car! Even in the Seychelles Public Transport's no laughing matter.

Another thing that my 'hard-earned' cash has enabled me to do is to view this recession- you say potato, I say kumkwat- with a more discerning eye. I mean, it's only really a recession if your not prepared to alter your viewpoint, isn't it? Obviously it's a shame that a few people are a little bit worse off, but you've got to move on, rather than dwell in the past. And on the other hand all sorts of opportunities have quite literally blossomed before us, if we only know where to look and how to recognise those oportunities.

For example, I've found a highly competitive workforce to be at my disposal. Minimum wage is going to present a few problems, but I've got high hopes for common sense winning the day. If only a few more people would be prepared to listen closely to the wisdoms of the likes of Ron Paul (Republican), in the States; they seem to have a far clearer economic plan over there, don't you think? I'd never really listened to the Republicans before, always assumed them to be slightly racist, homophobic, almost Nazi in several respects, but suddenly I have seen the light. If you, like I, can only see past these old prejudices the answers are all there. We simply need to grab the bull by the horns, so to speak.

Entirely on a negative note and trying to muddy the economic waters somewhat, I noticed that Brock University- there's always someone, isn't there?- has sought to undermine those of us seeking to rebuild the economy by claiming that there is evidence linking more right wing ideologies with that of a lower intellect. Undoubtedly just a bunch of lefty-leaning Trots. Obviously nobody at that place ever took the time to listen to the likes of George Bush, Ronald Reagan, John Prescott or Sarah Palin, in full and elegant flow. If one ever needs to refresh the mind, with some of the most eloquently delivered rhetoric of our times, one need search no further.



From the lady's mouth, care of tpmtv

So, on to my business plans, once we find the right players- none of this union nonsense, I'm afraid- and manage to negotiate salaries and the likes. Sadly, I won't be able to offer security as such, but with a lot of hard graft and flexible working- maybe some sort of internship might be in order- I'm sure we can all pull together. We've got to keep it in mind that we work in a global economy now; we've got to be competitive! I think that, only this morning, I was listening to some pretty sound thinking on the BBC, regarding open and global competition. Reward the hard working in this society and the sky's the limit! I doubt if any of my workers will quite be able to afford to rent one of my investment properties just yet-awhile- they really are set in a highly desirable location- but I'm sure that if they're prepared to share one of  our capital's many highly sought-after bedsits they'll be able to find something. I'm afraid there just isn't room for hand outs and freebies in this highly competitive world marketplace.

Presently, it's a toss up between off-shore wind farms or something in the newly opening-up NHS; I'm being urged strongly towards the latter. A nod and a wink from a man with his finger on the pulse has explained precisely why the NHS market is so popular. Apparently it's because it can't be allowed to fail; obvious really. Why risk your business on the open market when you could, far more easily and with all the risks removed, 'invest' in the NHS. No wonder there's such interest in the sector. No wonder 'our' politicians are desperate to do something for their mates in the city; you scratch my back and...

Still, it's very tempting, although I think that I might have already missed the boat with something a bit breast-implanty. Works not unlike Private Finance Initiatives, I should imagine; rich rewards for abject failure. I should point out, at this juncture, that 'failure' is not at the forefront of my thinking, but, having said that, a little bit of insurance wouldn't go a miss.

Now, if I can only get my face on TV...

Seize the Moment.

07:45. Another day, another dollar, whatever that's supposed to mean. Resignation, as ever, looms largest at the outset.

This colder snap hasn't really helped- unless you happen to be a major share-holder in one of 'our' big energy companies- so I'll wrap up in a further layer, avail myself of a warm beverage and curl up around a book. Escapism, exactly the ticket. I just hope that, when I reach for the tea, I can still bend my arms.

Thanks to Sailing "Footprints: Real to Reel" (Ronn ashore)

Curse of the retired; no sooner have I settled, than the doorbell should ring out in 'cheerful' misrepresentation. So, to the door I should waddle, the option of walking having been sacrificed to that one further layer. Not even a parcel for me, merely a drop off for the at-work neighbours. Naturally there is a small admin charge, so not an entirely wasted journey- a tenner I consider, plucking a random figure from the ether. Postie isn't exactly over the moon but, as I am quick to observe, the Post Office is far from above such things. Perhaps I shall risk half an hour of heating, as due reward.

08:50. As the inside temperature returns to single figures I arm myself with bus pass and venture towards the city library.

09:50. Too slow to sidestep the clipboard-armed youth, a further ten minutes is devoted to the aspired boosted sales of some company of which I have never heard. Chancing my arm, I levy a small admin charge; "Time is money, my friend," I feel obliged to point out. And I'll forgo that chance to 'win' the placatory clothes voucher, thanks all the same. Things are looking up.

Thank you i.tokaris

It would appear that I am not alone in my yearnings for a smidgen of warmth. The library has been transformed. Are these not the same crowd, with which I once shared a Saga Holiday, albeit somewhat more subdued this time round? Colder too; on this occasion I'll give it another fifteen minutes, before I might venture to shed the outer coat.

11:25. Fortuitous indeed that the library is so conveniently adjacent to those public toilets. Curiously I appear to have passed more liquid than I have actually consumed, maybe my flask has acquired certain TARDIS-like qualities, or maybe it's an age thing.

Delaying the return journey, I opt to join the library; use it or lose it! Naturally there was a very small admin charge. Strictly speaking, it was a tiny bit of a liberty; I'd become obsessed with the ideas of rounding the day's takings up to thirty quid. "So, just the eight pounds, if you please."

17:30. The boiler is roaring, but the living room has barely crept above seventeen degrees. I daren't twitch the dial, so I cocoon myself within a further layer once again. Then I notice the post, which I can no longer bend to retrieve. What's this, 'Don't lose your right to vote!' Another admin charge, think I.

Tomorrow I shall be writing to my bank, to advise them that I am still in the black, despite the numerical protestations of my energy supplier. I believe the going rate is thirty pounds a letter.

Cold callers beware!