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Showing posts from September, 2008

Driving Miss Daisy

Did I mention I now have a car? After giving up my treasured Renault Megane in 2003 so I could persue my writing, I am once again behind the wheel. One of the directors of the company, who asked me to become Emergency Receptionist, has lent me one of his cars. It's a Lipstick Red Toyota MR2. For the next few months, I get to call it mine.

I haven't driven in 5 years. Mind you, that hasn't stopped me voicing my opionions from the passenger's seat. But there's a whole world of difference between being a stroppy passenger commenting on the skills of the driver next to you and all around you, and being The Driver.

Every car has a personality, little quirks that making driving that car a unique experience. When I picked up the car with the Director, it would be true to say, I was bricking it. I drove back to Norwich very gingerly. I tried to get a feel for the car, who I've now named Red, and get a feel for driving again. The driving again was not as big a problem a…

Falling off Bikes

My last day has come and gone. I survived the experience. Boy was very disappointed that I remained polite to my customers when I got around to serving them. What can I say? I was busy handing out chocolates and getting hugged. I must admit, I really will miss the ladies of Perfumery, they really are fabulous. I will definitely be calling in and bugging them in the future.

It has been a bittersweet time for me. When I left local government I was determined I was going to write for a living. But the fact of the matter is, while I will continue writing, I'm not likely to become a published author. Publishing is a cut-throat business, of the people who I studied with, who are amazing writers, genuinely talented in an iritatingly laisez-faire way, they can't keep themselves. Realistically, if they can't, will I be able to? No not really. So I stuck it out with retail and as much as I found it fun in places, for the most part it was bloody hard work for bugger-all pay.

So here I …

The End of an Orange Era

Tomorrow is my final day as an employee in the independant department store. Tomorrow, I hang up the 'orange'. I won't miss the stupid, the daft, the weird and the rude. I will miss the fun, the glamour, the products and my colleagues.

When I think about my make-up collection before I started working in perfumery, it consisted of two lip sticks, one lip gloss and two eye-shadow pallets. I had two fragrances on my dressing table.

Last night, I thought I really ought to sort out my make-up boxes and bags. No, I'm not kidding, I have 2 boxes full and 3 bags of make-up. While I was at it, I also sorted through my cosmetics. I think I've got 18 bottles of fragrance sitting on my dressing table and that hasn't stopped me eyeing up several new fragrances longingly either.

Viking and I were talking about how a job can change you. I started by saying 'no, my job didn't change me...' at which point my Viking and Boy fell about laughing and pointed out my expandi…

Times, they are a-Changin'

There have been a couple of reasons why I haven't been blogging regularly. Firstly, I've been in a particularly foul mood that started when I came back off holiday and has continued unabated. I'm perfectly aware of it's causes but I was reluctant to inflict it on you, my good virtual friends. I've been so vile that Boy greets me at the door with alcohol and my Viking...well I'm petitioning the Vatican on his behalf. I'm convinced he is a saint. The patience he has shown me, I've been like a porcupine with PMS; that he still wants to be with me is an absolute miracle.

Juggling two jobs, doing 6 and 7 day stretches ground me down. Trying to keep it together, being tired and grumpy has been a mammoth task. My thanks goes out to my personal chefs, Mr Tesco and Mme Marks & Spencer, without whom Boy and I would have starved.

Then I got offered a permanent position at the heat pump company as a Sales & Marketing Assistant. I don't think I quite bit t…

Elbow - Grounds For Divorce Take 2

Hopefully they won't axe this one so quickly.

Elbow - Grounds For Divorce

I'm not the Elbow fan in the house, but I really love this.

Enjoy!

Resonance

Late last night I fell over a repeat of a documentary about Girl with a One Track Mind. If you'll remember she got outed around the time I started blogging and I've followed her progress ever since. I haven't landed on her site recently, so this morning I sit here with a strong cup of coffee and my pink fluffy dressing gown and caught up on her gossip. She posted a link from Whatelydude's blog, who I'd never heard of. But it was one of those things that made me go 'hmmm...'

He has a philosophy on love, it's called the Five Projections of Love.

They are: Touch. Time. Words. Action. Presents.

In a nutshell, he says that we use these to project our feelings of love, usually favouring 3 or 4. Compatibility comes when our partners mirror these.

For example, our loved one gives flowers, chocolates and sparkly things. Ideally, we'd return the favour by giving something in return.It's when partners don't share the same ranking that disparity occurs. Suc…

Compassion Overload

Just a quick post before I slap on the Orange and put on a smiley face.

I was walking into work yesterday. It takes me about 15 mins, if I hurry, 20 mins if I'm strolling. Not that I've strolled for ages. I seem to be permanently late these days, despite my best intentions and efforts. The good thing about that is that it takes me 10 mins to become Orange Woman, where it used to take me 20.

My route takes me into an underpass, which usually has a homeless person, usually a bloke. I think they must take turns with the patch and have a rota all figured out. Because there's only ever one at a time and I recognise them all now. Anyway, picture the scene:

Homeless bloke sitting cross-legged on a knackered sleeping bag, golden lab curled up nose under tail so it doesn't have to smell the alcoholic urine from the night before. There's a hat with a few coppers sprinkled in. His head comes up from his chest, he makes eye contact 'any spare change miss?'. I shake my hea…

Appropriate Subjects for the Lunch Table

I've been thinking about censure and blogging. Although my job is not at all in the public interest, or even interesting, occasionally I will admit to censoring chunks of my life. Thanks to a link in facebook, sometimes my work colleagues will pop by to see what's going on. My relationship with my Viking, which was sparked by our blogging habit, is difficult topic to blog about. Obviously, he reads my blog and vice versa. Boy reads my blog and vice versa.

Sometimes when I haven't blogged for a while, it's simply that I'm hideously busy trying to cope with day to day life, or I've got stuff going on I'm not prepared to share in the blogsphere.

I don't however, edit my day-to-day conversations and I will over-share whatever's happening in my life. I have become increasingly worried that the Editor-in-my-Head has taken an improptu holiday, or has nipped out for a lunch-time tipple without telling me. There are times when I genuinely ask 'did I just s…

Whistle Blowing

Once again the Powers that Be are trying to screw Inspector Gadget into the ground for telling it how it is. You'll remember that my Viking got gagged for talking about his experiences and it seriously has curtailed his creativity. His blog hasn't been the same without the day to day stuff of his working life.

Please pop by and offer the Boss your support. He's one of life's good guys, doing the best he can while the system rewards the mediocre and grinds down those who genuinely want to make a difference.

Without more voices like his, we really are going to go to hell in a handbasket.

What's New Pussy Cat?

Not a bloody thing.

I had a fabulous time oop North. Was spoilt rotten by the Viking's parents. I think his mum totally rocks. Every time I tried to be useful: clear something up, do the dishes etc, I got shooed out the way. It was the first time Boy went to Viking's familial home and I think he had a great time. We went walking, did a bit of shopping and watched the Olympics. To my surprise, as a not terribly sporty family, both Boy and I were riveted to the television. True, my favourites were the male gymnasts and Boy was quite taken with the flexible girls in tight leotards. But I was really chuffed to see the UK do so well. We went to the Lakes, I got wet, wet, wet, but I have discovered that I can cope with anything as long as I have dry feet and a wooly hat. There's more on that trip that I will write about later. I promise, with pictures and everything.

I really didn't want to come home. Didn't want to face the bills, the laundry, the responsibility.

So, with…