Journal

My dad and I communicate in this way almost constantly.

 The bed saga in full: a month or so ago we got delivered a bunch of timber and no screws or instructions. After wailing at them down the phone, they sent the screws. Next time I was down from London, we set about putting it together. Whuh-oh: the holes were in the wrong place for fixing the damn thing up. We had to drill new ones. Then the instructions were convinced that we could use 70mm bolts to attach a 70mm-think bedstead to the frame. Righty-ho. Bought new 100mm bolts. Once we'd finally screwed the damn thing together, there was no sign of the center support beam. I shout down the phone at them some more demanding a refund for the sheer crapness of their service. They'd only do such a generous thing were we to take the whole bed apart again and send it back, in which case they'd presumably replace it with an equally physically impossible set of parts. And even if we'd wanted to do that, we'd drilled holes in it (NECESSARILY), thus voiding our guarantee. Marvellous.

Anyway, we finally got the center support beam and I achieved the grand prize of a 10% discount off the bed frame (= eleven whole pounds). You can imagine how difficult this must have been for them. Guh.

 Moral: don't buy cheap, crappy beds from a certain Mattressman.co.uk. THERE, I SAID IT.

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Meryl ||   

Thought-purgin' from a 20 year old fat girl with wacky depressive tendencies. Hi-jinks ensue? ... full profile