Dog and chips

Mostly I seem to worry myself between one of two states. Crisis, “Oh no! How am I going to resolve that in time?” and restless, “Things are a little too quiet. Shouldn't I be shouting 'oh no'?”.

This week started well. My attempt to do my own tax-return was corrected by the nice man at the special marquee they've set up for idiots who try to do their own tax-return. It seems I got lucky because this is the last year you can opt not to pay 'contributions' to a pension scheme/politician's pocket. I know it makes sense on paper to insist that people pay toward their future but an awful lot of people are going to have a lot less money next fiscal year.

Then today a nice lady came to put ID chips in Dog and Cat who weren't entirely happy about it but they seem ok. They now beep when you pass a special machine over their nape (so glad I got to use that word).

Now I have to get cages for them both. The problem with this moving-with-pets malarky is that a lot of the time you're never sure who to believe; everyone is an expert even though they all tell you different things. Go to a vet's and they try to sell you a cage perfect for airplanes, then you check the website and discover that that model is no longer allowed. One person will tell you to sedate the animals, the next no. One person tells you to buy copper, the other sell. One person tells you to stitch the bags of drugs into your suitcase, the other says strap them to your stomach. Nightmare. Perhaps once I get to Chile I'll set up an advice bureau for people travelling with pets.

Well. That'll do for today. Next time I'll tell you about my attempts to get a job.