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entry 36 - 17th December 01
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how the DSS thinks My giro hasn't come again, but I know where it is: it's sitting in the hall of the ground floor flat two storeys below me, the one beneath Horsey, a flat I have no access to. The reason for my giro being there is pretty simple... my address is officially the top flat at number five, but the way these non purpose-built dole scum hovels are knocked together means that my access is through the stairwell of 'next door', i.e. number six, which is where all my normal post goes. But not my giro.
I decided to sort it out once and for all at the Jobcentre. Me: Look, it's really quite simple: the ground
floor flat is completely self contained; there aren't any stairs in it;
my front door is, er, next door. I asked to see someone with more authority, was
made to wait for two hours, then had exactly the same conversation all
over again. It's at times like this I wish we had the same gun licensing
laws as they do in the States.
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My
flat, which is as scabby on the inside as it looks from the outside.
Horsey's
flat. This used to be Dave Bahan's flat.
The
letterbox my giro gets sent to every fortnight. Unfortunately for me it
is not actually MY letterbox, so getting hold of my giro is not as easy
as it should be.
My
front door. 
This
flat is occupied by a mad old Chinese woman. She can often be seen on
the promenade collecting old newspapers which she brings back and 'stores'.
She also, for some reason, collects potatos.
