Tourants.

A bit like Tourettes only not lacking provocation and without the same level of abusive language (though not far from it).  I am so utterly peed off with the DWP today I cannot begin a rant sufficient to express the extent of my anguish, except perhaps to say that were I to accidentally bump in to any would be Derek Birds in the near future I would most definitely direct them to my nearest Job Centre Plus.  Evil I appreciate, but guilty feelings none.

For those of you who have not ever had the misfortune of requiring financial assistance from the incompetent body known as the Department of Work and Pensions, consider yourselves truly blessed.  Aside from the fact that most of the employees are cold, hard, pseudo-humans who treat you with utter contempt and harbour complete disdain at your improvident state, the application procedures for each and every benefit are so complex you need a masters in economics and human biology just to fill them in.  How they can possibly convict anyone of benefit fraud is beyond me......surely to commit fraud you need to understand the information being requested and deliberately falsify it.   I doubt if the average applicant can understand anything beyond the point where they ask for your name, age and date of birth.

So where has all this bitterness and resentment come from?  Well this morning's post contained a request for repayment of an overpayment of benefit to the sum of £1812.96.    Turns out  18 months ago, when I was receiving Carers Allowance for Chris, whilst working full time, I was earning £10.00 too much per week to be entitled to it.   So for the sake of £10.00 a week in wages they are clawing back £52.00 a week in benefit, for the entire nine months.  If I had realised the way the calculations are made I would have negotiated my wages down by 30p an hour to stay below the threshold.  As it stands when I go back and calculate the amount of money I actually benefited from during my nine months of working in hellsville, it equates now to less than £30.00 a week.  And the government wonder why people can't be arsed to get off their backsides and work.  

This is the same office incidentally who when I called them to say my husband was in a coma with severe brain damage and I needed to discuss his application for Disability Living Allowance, asked if they could speak with him to clarify that I was to be his representative. Hmmmm.

Anyway I am aware that there are far worse things in life and that getting wound up will do nothing to assist the situation.  Nor probably will a bottle of wine and five Mars bars but there's only one way to know for sure.

Speaking to an old school friend the other day who informs me he has been reading the blog, from his location somewhere in Italy (meaning I can now lay claim to having an international audience I think.....although I am geographically illiterate and never sure whether Europe constitutes international or not??  Saying that I do have a few Aussie followers).   On discovering that the blog was being accessed so far afield, by relative strangers,  I did have a mosey on through all of my ramblings, feeling suitably self conscious and wanting to understand the attraction......and although I admit to being reasonably amusing in parts, I cannot believe how self indulgent and depressive I appear.  That's most certainly not how I want to be remembered so I must make a conscious effort to lie more.   He also introduced me to another blog, written by a man named Stan Cattermole (who actually isn't named that at all, but rather assumes an alias).  Made me think this is what I should have done, written anonymously so I could include every deep, dark and miserable moment of my life and not be accountable to anyone for the upset it causes.  How liberating.  As it stands I feel increasingly concerned that I can't progress beyond a certain level because you know who I am.  There are certain constraints that I have to follow regardless of what I may wish to disclose.

Maybe I should start writing some hypothetical, 'I have a friend' type entries. 

I have a friend who feels rather frustrated at present, wishes she were thinner, fitter, happier and more able to control her wandering mind.

I, however, am absolutely fine.

xxx