Advertising really works. It also really costs.

Joshua was watching me clean the loo earlier this week.
"Is that Harvic power plus?", he asked.
"Uh, yes sweetheart."  (I decided not to pick up on his mispronunciation of 'Harpic'.)
"I thought it was", he stated matter-of-factly.  "I saw it on the telly and I thought it was a good thing to buy".
"Why's it a good thing to buy sweety?", I asked.
"Because", (and at this point, he made a sweeping motion with his arm as though squirting toilet cleaner around the bowl) "it kills all the germs."

It's not surprising that people spend money on advertising.  It actually works.
Did you know that in the year 2000 (sorry, old stats) approximately £309 billion was spent on advertising.
Which, when you compare this with the fact that:
"It is estimated that the additional cost of achieving and maintaining universal access to basic education· for all, basic health care for all, reproductive health care for all women, adequate food for all and safe water and sanitation for all is roughly $40 billion a year."  (From UN Human Development Report '98)  Oh, and while we're on numbers, that's the same amount that we spend on a combination of ice cream in Europe and perfumes and pet food in Europe and the US (11bn, 12bn and 17bn respectively)
Oh, and some final rich-poor stats (sorry, I've been distracted from my funny story by scary stats)
"The three richest people have assets that exceed the combined GDP of the 48 least developed countries.
• The 15 richest have assets that exceed the total GDP of Sub-Saharan Africa.
• The wealth of the 32 richest people exceeds the total GDP of South Asia.
• The assets of the 84 richest exceed the GDP of China, the most populous country, with 1.2 billion inhabitants."
(Same source - http://hdr.undp.org/en/media/hdr_1998_en_chap1.pdf)
So, 84 people have more assets than the GDP of one sixth of the world.  Nice.
Sorry - this was a funny story to start with, and now you're feeling bad about the rich-poor divide.  Oh well, that's life...

Spare any change?

How would you envisage the perfect start to term in a boarding house? I suppose it would be a feeling of preparedness beforehand, a smooth integration of new kids, good meetings with parents, plenty of excited returnees? Well, we did have most of that, but read on to discover what else we had on day one of term...

I'll set the scene first. It's just shy of 6.00pm. The three of us are in the main entrance of the house, greeting and chatting (well, Joshua's not so much greeting and chatting as just playing and climbing up the outside of the stairs). Suddenly, he comes to me making some odd noises and odder faces, and exclaims, "Daddy, I've eaten my money." My first response? "You silly boy". I should point out that he wasn't choking, struggling to breathe, looking like he was going to start vomiting or anything like that. "It hurts", he said, followed by, "how do we get it back?". We wait, I told him. Anyway, we headed off to have tea, which he was too tired to eat, and then I put him to bed. He was out like a light at 7.00. I figured I'd have a bit of an early night, having done some lesson preparation (yes, I'm teaching again...) and was about to turn in just after 10.00. I thought to myself that perhaps it would be friendly of me to check with the all-knowing internet what to do when your child swallows a coin. So I went on Google and typed in, "What do I do when my child swallows a coin?". Well, given that the first few sites were American, I was being repeatedly advised to 'consult your pediatrician'. "Really?", I thought. I mean, he seemed absolutely fine to me. So I rang NHS Direct. They were insistent that he should be taken at once to A&E. This was despite the fact that I pointed out that he could breathe, eat, drink, and was currently FAST ASLEEP. They remained adamant. So I 'phoned the local A&E. It's a huge hospital, and they have a separate children's A&E. I figured I'd outsmart them ... "Would it be best if I brought him in in the morning, so he could be x-rayed if necessary?". But they weren't so easily swayed. "No, we can x-ray him now if we need to - bring him in." (Am I sounding like a mean parent here? I was just aware that he seemed fine and was sleeping quite soundly.) So it was about 11.00 o'clock that I got him out of bed and put him in the car. He woke up, somewhat predictably and, equally predictably, was a little confused about what was going on. I explained we were going to the hospital because he'd swallowed a coin, and they might want to take a picture of his tummy to see where it was.
Well, we got to the hospital and were signed in. We hadn't even sat down in the waiting room when Joshua was called up. "Great", I thought, "this'll be a quick one." We went into exam room 4, and the nurse produced a metal detector (seriously!). We explained that we'd find the coin with it, so Joshua dutifully stood still while it was waved over his chest and tummy. After a while there was the distinctive 'bleep' of a metal detector having found a coin (I'm glad we weren't due through any airport security this week!). It was just below the breastbone, which she felt was probably the right place (the wrong place being the end of the wrong pipe - at least he'd swallowed it rather than breathed it in!).

And yes, she was a little surprised when I asked to take the photo.
Having established where it was, she said, "I'll write that down, and then the doctor will decide whether or not to x-ray ... there's a bit of a wait I'm afraid."
"A bit of a wait?" I thought. "Surely I'm not going to have to still be sitting here at midnight?!"
Anyway, to cut a long story short, at 1.00am, Joshua was getting increasingly persistent with his "Daddy, can we go home now", questions. A little while after 1.00, the doctor came to see us (we'd spent a bit of a time in a 'quiet room' we'd found, which had the lights off and the door closed. Much nicer than the chaos of an A&E waiting room). She did the metal detector again, and concluded that it had gone down the right pipe, and would be out again in due course. The first and only time the NHS has given me a money-back guarantee...
So we crawled into bed at 1.30, proud of the NHS, but not particularly impressed with Joshua's timing!
The next morning at breakfast, our resident matron looked over when we walked in and, with a beaming smile on her face, asked, "any change?"

I almost died of boredom.

Yes, it's true. In fact, three days running I almost kicked the bucket due to extreme (almost unprecedented) levels of boredom.

Why?
Two words - Tax Return.

However, I was dead chuffed with myself when I submitted my self-assessment online last night. I felt all grown up (it's the first one I've ever done, and I think my brain was trying to justify the time taken by injecting a burst of pride into the equation). However, I didn't feel so great this morning when I realised that I'd done my sums a bit wrong. I halved something part way through an equation (which was fine, because it's a joint asset) and then I halved it at the end of the equation (which would have been fine if I hadn't already done the halving earlier) with the result that I had a figure that was too small. (Remember we're speaking financially here!).

The good news was that it meant I would end up paying less tax (by about £175) the bad news was that I had to resubmit in order to change the figures. So I went back to the drawing board (well, the computer, strictly speaking) and totted it all up again. It was part way through doing this that I realised I'd got some other figures wrong - I'd merrily added up all the months for the tax year, when I should have only included those where we weren't residing in our own house. D'oh. This changed the figures again and meant that I wasn't saving about £175, I was saving about £13. Unlucky for some, as they say! I can now understand why people pay other people good money to have their tax returns done for them. Oh well, just another reason to count down to retirement. My next job is to do Anna's return :(

But through it all, there are three reasons why I'm more than happy to pay my taxes:
1) Joshua
2) Mum
3) My old job


On an altogether lighter note. Another point of amusement (I don't think I've mentioned this one yet - forgive me if I have and I hope you find it amusing a second time...)
For some time now, I have had this conversation with Joshua every night:
Me: I love you,
Joshua: I love you too,
Me: I love you lots,
Joshua: I love you once.

He seems dead pleased with himself for saying it too. I like to think that he believes it to be a 'trumping' of my loving him lots, but I always go away wondering if I should be pleased or slightly offended :o) Sometimes he even holds up one finger, I guess to drive the point home. (Don't worry, I love it really, but it does amuse me every time)

Apologies for the lack of photos here - I could have one of the study floor as I was doing the tax return (well, more the paper on the floor than the floor itself, which was pretty well hidden), but then some criminal mastermind will read my post, see the photo, zoom in, get all my bank details and steal all my money. And I wouldn't want that to happen.
I could also have a photo of Joshua during his nap today - he'd left the siren on his Fireman Sam book running, opened his curtains, and then gone to sleep with a pair of trousers on his head. I could have a photo of that, if I'd taken one, which I didn't. But having said that, maybe I'll put a couple of others of him in bed... (and no, they're not set up - it's just some of the weird stuff he does when left by himself for more than about 12 seconds).