The Return of the Psycho Penguin

It's that time of year when you find yourself greeting the morning in the dark. This is okay, because after 45 odd years one becomes adept at stumbling around in the gloom to get dressed so as to avoid startling one's high blood pressure hubbie by slamming on the lights and shouting 'Wakey, wakey! Up and at 'em!! Start the day with a smile and get it over and done with!'

And only occasional does one find oneself at some point in the day walking around with one's pants on inside out or an ill-matching sock combo.

Anyway, on rising yesterday, I could hear something odd going on upon the landing. There came a noise like Bagpuss sings Fiddy Cent (or whoever that disgraceful rapper type person is or was, they all seem to get shot these days, or possibly Dappy from N Dubz....is that right???). So I stood on the landing trying to gain my bearings. Did Heather have a new alarm clock, I wondered. If so, I much prefered the beep-tiddly-beep-tiddly-beep-tiddly one she had previously. Was it coming from next door? Was it coming from outside? I waited until my hearing achieved its usual bat-like sonar quality, and then I realised it was coming from the loft. And then I worked our what it was.

'I love you....Merry Christmas! I love you....Merry Christmas! I love you....Merry Christmas!'

Over and over and over again on a madly incessant loop.

'It's those bloody penguins!' I said. 'They're in the loft in the Christmas decoration bag and somehow their magnetic beaks have become locked in a penguin kiss and set them off.'

I banged open the bedroom door and slammed on the light.

'Can you hear that?' I yelled at Andy. (At this point, to my shame, I showed a blatant disregard for his blood pressure.) 'That possessed penguin toy you bought me two years ago has set itself off in the loft!'

And then I crashed about, unravelling the loft ladder and making a quite unholy racket for 6 in the morning. And all the while, the psycho penguins carried on - 'I love you....Merry Christmas! I love you....Merry Christmas! I love you....Merry Christmas!' Arrghhhhhhhh!!!! (That was me, not the psycho penguins.)

Anyway, Andy went up the ladder into the loft to sort them out because I was convinced at this point the Christmas decoration bag had been set flying by a giant rat that had taken up residence, or possibly an escaped convict or a Doctor Who monster or Andy's until now unrevealed lunatic first wife a la Mrs Rochester in the attic.

The psycho penguin beaks were duly unattached, Andy took his blood pressure pills and all was well.

Until I got home from tutoring. It's an early finish on Monday, more like a half day really, which is nice. I picked up the post from the doormat. One for me. From an insurance company offering me cheaper home insurance because I am over 50.

'Nooooooooooo!!!! 45....I am 45!!!!!' I ranted, remembering the blog I wrote a week or so ago and thinking Saga will be after me next.

And then, an hour or so later, my mobile went off. Unknown number. I answered, in case it was a hospital or police station or the Ernie bonds.

'Hello?' I said.
'May I speak to Mrs Denise Hunt?' said a voice.
'Speaking,' said I.
'Hello Denise, my name is Mike and I'm calling from hfwq[48hnfrag;bfr;ng'' said Mike.

Well, two points of irritation here. 1) I don't know Mike from byf8pqbuyapbfrai;fbrya;b so his address seemed rather familiar I thought and 2) what the heck was hf79qpyapb;bgfsbgy;qg'qb? Honestly, some people do mumble.

Anyway, h7[wygt[ahnu5gnpa;hgn'[wgh turned out to be a company who ring people to offer free (ha!) reviews of their pension arrangements because they want to make sure people are getting the best deal especially since the Government have brought in recent changes to pension schemes. Have they? I thought. Actually, I was still feeling tetchy about Mike's over-familiar and persistent use of my Christian name so I wasn't really absorbing his sales patter.

'So, Denise,' Mike continued, 'what provision have you made for your pension and what are the current values?'

'Pardon me?' I said.

'Your pensions, Denise,' said Mike, who clearly wasn't picking up the subtle undertones of irritation that were peppering my responses, 'how many pension plans do you have? What are their values.'

'Quite frankly, 'Mike' ' I said, 'my pensions arrangements are none of your business and I am NOT prepared to discuss them with you.'

At this point he hung up on me! How dare he!!! I was the affronted one. If there was any hanging up to be done, it was to be done by me!!!

Well, Andy arrived home at this point so I had a bit of a rant and all was well.

But if you're reading this 'Mikey pal', my pension arrangements revolve around paying off the mortgage as soon as possible, selling the house and then swanning around the countryside staying in posh hotels until the money runs out and then dumping myself on the doorstep of either and /or both of my children and making as much nuisance of myself as possible until I go to the great retirement home in the sky.

Is that 'plan' enough for you.

Today's blog was brought to you by 'PossessedByAPsychoPenguin. com' for all your irrational pension ranting needs.