Those of us lucky enough (sic) to be business owners will be familiar with the concept of ‘depreciation’ the method by which the cost of capital items can be set against tax.
The idea, of course, is that each year the ‘depreciated’ sum is saved so that at the end of the period funds are available to replace the original capital item with another new, shiny piece of equipment.
What actually happens in most cases is that our original purchase is left to go on and on. Perhaps we’ll re-upholster that dental chair or replace the leaking valves in the delivery unit but throw it away and replace it? Unthinkable! It’s got years of good service in it yet!
Last week I was invited to the launch of Mouth Cancer Awareness Month at the Houses of Parliament.
An auspicious occasion. One naturally wants to look one’s best.
What splendid luck! On clearing the loft recently I came across a pair of quality black leather shoes from a renowned manufacturer which I’d put away for safe keeping no more than 20 years ago. A quick polish and they were ‘good to go’.
The journey to London from the Isle of Wight comprises of a number of stages. The first two; the train to Ryde Pier and the ferry to Portsmouth went swimmingly. So much so in fact that I found I had enough time for a delicious breakfast roll at the harbour kiosk before boarding the train which would get me to the Capital with almost 10 minutes to spare!
We have starlings in Portsmouth. They’re equivalent to pigeons in London. Very cute, very tame and ruddy nuisances if you’re trying to have something to eat outside. More or less finishing my roll I dutifully walked over to the waste paper bin to deposit the crumbs and left-overs without leaving anything over to encourage these ‘sky-rats’ to the detriment of other diners.
Then it happened.
‘Crack’ My left shoe suddenly felt far more comfortable as if all pressure on my foot had been magically removed. The sole had broken right through at the centre. What an inconvenience! Must get it repaired when I return!
I boarded the train to London. Things were fine right up to Waterloo, then, with about 15 minutes left to get to Westminster and certainly no time to seek out a shoe shop; ‘Squanch’: the fore-part of the sole parted company from the upper and clacked up and down with every step. Those of you who know my wife Joy will know she’s a very resourceful woman. Off to WH Smiths in a shot. She returned with a selection of fine rubber bands to hold the whole thing together.
The taxi journey to the Mother of Parliaments was troublesome but not nearly as embarrassing as leaving a trail of debris across Westminster Hall before standing rigid in a corner throughout the meeting. The hoy-palloy must have suspected I had a military background as I stood to attention while speaking to various dignatories, professional editors and leaders of our profession.
On leaving the building things sadly suffered a decline. The short walk across Westminster Bridge back to the station is one I’ve completed many times. This time it rained. Boy, did it rain. I hardly noticed the drenched suit or even the shirt sticking to me; my mind was more pre-occupied with my soaked and freezing left foot.
I might be wrong, but I think it was the rain that caused the other shoe to disintegrate at this time; in any case by the time I reached the train the sole had vanished.
The journey home passed in something of a blur. I’m not sure if my two numb feet contributed to the hypothermia but by the time I got home my jaw was clenched, my ability to perform even simple essential tasks like opening my bottle of Guinness was lost and my shoulders quaked as if I’d just been listening to the most hilarious joke.
Divine retribution? It could be. Perhaps Someone Up There really does think we should be more generous to starlings!
No comments:
Post a Comment