Well I tried and failed.

In an attempt to get back the ability to allow commenting without spam, I tried installing wordpress, which is a relatively new and supposedly user-friendly blog script. However I can’t for the life of me make it work. You can see my attempt, miserable as it may be right here. I was trying getting the posts themselves over to the new format, and after hours of struggle GOT THE FUCKER WORKING! However, as soon as I had claimed victory, I was no longer able to post – a rather important part of a blog really.

Anyway this is a public cry for help. If you believe you can get this bugger actually working and are willing to try, email me (etep(backwards&deletethis)@dialagranny.com) and I’ll send you logins/passwords etc to get started. Plus as a bonus, if you succeed I will love thee evermore. Capiche?

Pete

Alright so I’ve been here for three weeks now and I’ve not even told people what’s happening. On the 30th of September I flew out of Cape Town, through Johannesburg and Frankfurt, arriving at Heathrow airport in London on the 1st of October. Megan, a very good friend from Sydney met me at the airport, took me home to have a shower, then we both caught a bus to Dave’s place in Nottingham for the weekend. Since then I’ve been living in London with my Uncle and Aunt, seeing people when I can and just enjoying the year off. I’m supposed to be in Rome on the 28th of November, but I intend to travel a bit of the rest of Europe before then, so I’m thinking of leaving England mid November, giving me only a few more weeks in the country here. I’m supposedly flying home on the 11th of December, once again from Heathrow.

Right that’ll save explaining any more crap as to where I am at the moment. I’ll blog again soon.

Pete

Well as much as I like having comments, and trust me I do I’ve been a little put off in the last few weeks. Spambots seem to have cracked whatever it is they need to crack to post mass comments on my site, and as a result I’m getting about 50 a day. However, this is worse than just email spam, because I have to individually remove them and it takes up valuable time. I spent three hours last night clearing it all.

As a result, I hate to do this but I must remove commenting for the time being at least. Sorry all – especially those communists who commented and were in for a beating in the last post.

EDIT 18:23
Well the ‘time being’ in the last post may have lasted less than an hour. It looks like I might just have found myself a solution. We’ll see in a few hours I suppose.

That, in laymans terms means you can all comment again. Be merry!

EDIT 18:30
No sooner had I claimed victory and re-opened commenting than I was swamped by 2 more spams – within a minute of reopening, and even after changing the names of bits and pieces. Shit shittidy shit. Sorry.

Pete

Alright I’m sorry about not keeping this blog for the last two weeks. I haven’t touched a computer in that time, mainly due to the fact that I’m 21357896389374 km from home, and also alot to do with Uncle Brent’s computer constantly dying for the last fortnight, and me being far too much of a tightass to pay for an internet cafe session.

Anyway a lot has happened. I still haven’t got news about the cheque. Gulp. Most strange however is the fact that I haven’t heard from Becky regarding the matter. Strange – maybe she just trusts me, which would be nice I suppose. If you read this Bec, don’t worry all will be fine but just incase, I’ll get in touch first sign of trouble. I’ve opened an account here in the UK to bank the cheque into and will divy it up once I get the moolah.

Anyway away from worrying stuffs….

Let’s see, I cast my first ballot in the Australian General Elections, held last Saturday. The conservative, Bush-supporting government won which I must admit I’m happy with. Little Johnny may cause feelings of disgust and chagrin to many but he’s proven an apt leader in the last 3 terms, and Mark Latham is simply a dickhead who is not at all suited to the job. I honestly don’t think Kim Beazley should have given up after the last election. He wasn’t fantastic, but he’d be a shite side better than Latham. The Democrats have fallen apart recently and I will never support the Greens as long as Bob Brown sits in the high chair there, so that really left little in the way of choice as far as I saw the ballot paper, standing in the hall of Australia House in London a day before the election actually took place.

Finally, any Londoners/Englanders/Random people that want to brighten my day or even better go for a pint with me while I’m in town, get in touch with me via the email addy etep(backwardise that)@dialagranny.com or text/ring me on +447851604892.

And now I’m off to bed – its twenty to three in the morning.

Pete

Ugh. Dave warned me on the phone last week that I’d only really appreciate how awesome the GAP year was I left the country and went home. I think I can start to appreciate it now – I landed safely in London yesterday morning and am now at Dave’s place in Nottingham waiting to usher in his birthday which is tomorrow.

The pressure and stress of the last few days has been horrible. I read somewhere that one of the most stressful things one can do in thier life is move home, and I think I can now vouch for that. It all started last week, when Becky and the rest of the gang went to the Orange River for the weekend, only arriving back to Cape Town on Tuesday fully expecting to beable to get out of the country the day after. We all went out to celebrate ‘last night in the country’, although it was technically not mine, and stayed out till about 4am which probablly wasn’t the smartest thing. When I got up at 7am I walked around the house and really saw the place for the shithole of rubbish that it was, and spend the next 24 hours cleaning. Seriously – it was so bloody bad, plus Bec was sick so didn’t pack herself until about an hour before she left. Poor little love. She also had her passport being held in Pretoria by the British High Commission, and with her leaving home that day, and the country 5 days later she was in dire straights. Thanfkully she got hold of them and discovered that they still had the passport, so she can collect it after she gets back from the Kruger National Park.

Anyway so that was stressful thing number 1. Second on the list was selling the bloody car. I had always planned on putting ads in the papers and trying to sell privately infront of going back to the dealer, but basically I was feeling lazy and decided to go with our contracted buyback with the people we bought the car off. We payed R20,000 and were guaranteed R16,000 back by the end of September, so I was relatively happy, as long as they actually paid us. So I rang O&J’s on Wednesday last week to check that eerything would be simple and fine, got thier reassurances and proceeded to enjoy myself. On Monday I went in with the car asking if they could check it out, but was told to come back the day after. On Tuesday morning I arrived bright and early, waited for about three quarters of an hour while the boss played Solitaire on his computer, then was eventually helped after I kicked up a fuss. They checked the car out by driving it around, found that indeed it was in better condition than when they sold it to us (although still made up problems for it) and then, half an hour later offered me 12 grand. I was shocked, argued with them that the contract stated 16,000 and then went home to get it, to show them and threaten the bastards. To my suprise, the contract they served us made no mention of price. I was sure I had checked the contract for that when it was made in February, but oh well. I asked if I cuold sleep on it, knowing Bec would want to know about it, and went home an extremely angry Pete. I told Bec, aswell as my parents as soon as I could. Dad told me to take the money and run, knowing I had little time left to argue, and Becky in her shock wanted me to take time off other things and go to other dealers, although once the reality had settled she became much more rational.

On Wednesday I made my way back at 10, left the car and was told to come by at 11 to pick up the cash (I had made myself abundantly clear that a bank guaranteed check or cash were the only two options). I agreed, came back an hour later and was told that unfortunately they hadn’t been to the bank yet and could I come back at 3. I was a little pissed off, but hid it and agreed again. At 3 I was told that the lady who had been charged with going to the bank needed to take her daughter to the hospital and to come back at 5. At 5 I was apologised to again, at which time I really blew my top. Then he promised me that he’d come by my house personally and deliver the money at 6. Then he asked me where I lived, and on my answer he asked if it would be possible to make a drop at the nearby Spur Steakhouse instead. I agreed and made my way once more. At 6 I was waiting outside the Spur, but by 6:25 there was still no sign of Khan. I rang him and he told me to be patient, he was still at work. Finally at about 7, a car pulled up over the road and tooted me. I walked over and low and behold a guy, not Mr Khan but some worker of his presents me with an envelope. It was a bit thin to be cash, and I opened it expecting to see a bank cheque, but no – it was a personal cheque from the International Habib Bank. It wasn’t Mr Khan, so I couldn’t vent at him, so instead I turned, beaten and bruised, with no more avenues to persue and too bloody tired to chase him up. The morning after I left the country, with cheque in hand, hoping to hell it won’t bounce. If it does, I’m screwed.

Call me stupid or underprepered but I did all I could. The bastards had me over a barrel with my balls in a vice. They knew what they could do to me and exactly which ride to take me on, and there was not a thing I could have done. I suppose this is what you call learning by mistake. I think I might just buy cars first-hand from here on.

Pete