Flat Pack Nightmare

My computer room was looking like a poorly-run charity shop, so stern measures were needed. A swift check on the local furniture shops led me to the sobering fact that a decent, ready-made cupboard would be painfully dear. The nearest thing to something half-approaching what I wanted cost around 80 euros. At this point I wandered into the local DIY shop, saw a cupboard which was just the job, costing 30 euros less. I´ll have one of those, I said and asked them to bring it out to the car. It was when they arrived with a large, oblong package that I realised I was about to enter flat-pack hell.

I was under no illusions - I knew what I was in for. After all, I´ve lived in the flat- pack´s alma mater for 30 years and have on many occasions been party to wild hysterical scenes where demented Swedes have threatened to hurl themselves like lemmings at the nearest Ikea, screeching curses and bloodcurdling Viking oaths at Ingvar Kampryd, its filthy-rich founder. I´ll bet he doesn´t have any flatpack furniture in his Swiss hideaway!

The package stood in the hall for 2 days and I slunk past it, dreading the moment of truth. When it finally came, the actual checking of the bits, it was exactly as it always is. Various vital chunks of wood and quite a few screws were missing. Back to the store, where it took half an hour to identify the neccessary spare parts and by the time I arrived home, I was totally fraught with the thought of what lay ahead. The job was put off for another 2 days.

Finally, Other Half and I started to peruse the instruction sheet. It reminded me of when I got my first computer. Whoever had written the instruction manual for that had left out the really basic steps assuming that nobody could be so stupid that they didn´t know how to switch on. Similarly, you needed to guess what the intervening steps were between illustration A, which was a bare, pristine cupboard side and illustration B , where screws and plugs were attatched to holes and a hand with a glue pot was about to stick a long narrow bit of wood along the edge.

Why does it have to be this way? Why is it always so obscenely difficult? Why are there always bits missing? I´m sure it´s tested in the factory to see if it can be easily assembled. But they do it all the time so of course it´s easy for them! Do they never test it out on ordinary thick-heads? It took us 4 hours, without the breaks for strong drink. When finally assembled, the cupboard isn´t too bad, although the doors aren´t flush and there´s a bit of a gap where the 2 halves of the chipboard back don´t quite meet. Still, I suppose it was worth it. I saved a bit of cash, didn´t I? It´s just that Other Half and I are not speaking to each other after a heated dispute over which way round the door hinges should go.

Actually, come to think of it, every cloud has a silver lining.

The Green-Eyed Goddess.

I was watching Skye News the other day and saw, to my amazement, a couple in the UK , who had just scooped 56 million on the lottery, celebrating with champagne and getting their faces imprinted on the bitter, envious minds of all the many who didn´t win and resent the fact. How naive can you be? Didn´t someone warn them to keep it under wraps? Or didn´t they have any choice in the matter? I would imagine their lives will change drastically and probably not all to the good after this.

At about the same time, in their newspaper commentary section, Skye showed a screaming headline denouncing all the British expats who receive winter fuel allowances abroad. I didn´t read the article but I suppose it ranted on about the luxury lifestyle in the sun blah blah and how the poor Brits freezing at home shouldn´t have to divvy up for people sipping G&Ts on the Costas. They should try a winter out here and see what they think then! I don´t get, nor ever have received, this benefit, so I´ve no axe to grind. It just seems to me to be yet another display of envy from the don´t have as much as you do lot.

I´ve lived in Sweden for 30 years so can testify that envy flourishes in the frozen wastes of Scandiavia too. People assume that you must be very well-heeled to have a place in Spain. And to be well-heeled in Nordic countries isn´t that easy with the grinding tax burden, so it´s often assumed that you have probably beaten the system somehow.

Once you have made your move and live abroad, the Swedish Inland Revenue pursues you with vigour to make sure you follow the regulations. As a Swede living abroad, all your income is taxed at source and arrives, 25% depleted, in your bank account. You then pay income tax here in Spain, send the bank receipts to Sweden and wait nervously to see if the authorities there will OK everything.

If they do, which isn´t always the case, they eventually send you back the tax you have paid in Spain. Thing is, if you end up paying, say, 18% in Spain, you don´t get all the 25% back. Oh no, you only get the 18% back. The other 7% is kept and used there for something you don´t get a whiff of. How grudging is that? It reeks to me of envy! It´s like somebody is saying: We´ll show the buggers! If they can´t stay here and pay 55% tax, we´ll damn well see to it they won´t be able to enjoy the tax benefits over there!

What´s wrong with people? Are there any truly genuine, pleasant types who are pleased when others have a bit of luck or do well, and celebrate with them , not feeling twinges of envy? I can´t understand it at all. I would never be like that…… It´s just that the couple I go to a quizz with have been on 4 cruises that I know of and I´ve only managed a week in Majorca. They must be up to some fiddle, for sure. I´m blowed if I´ll give them a lift next quizz night.