Catching Up

Sooo....how has Norwich been while I've been away?

By the looks of it, nothing's really changed apart from the seasons. It's definitely autumnal out there. Boy, his mate and I walked into the city centre. There are more shops shut, but lots of people bustling about.

We went in to look at televisions. Ours was a hand-me-down and the time has come to bid it farewell. It's huge and while it was good to have, it's time for a change. We trooped into the electrical store that sorted out my white goods last year before we moved to the Palais. Buying stuff can be such fun. I was expecting to have to fork out a small fortune and was pleasantly suprised once I did some negotiating, how much I saved. The brand spanking new, flat screen, HD ready idiot box will be delivered and installed next Friday. I also negotiated with them to take the old tv and stand away as well. I am very pleased.

I gatecrashed coffee with Alix and her family and Gee's second son. He's off to his second year at uni and was saying goodbye. I then walked back with him to have tea with Gee. She is the sister of my heart. It was fantastic seeing her and her family again.

After the visit to the orthodontist yesterday, I'm back on soft foods. When the Great Ursus and his lovely dropped Boy back from school, Lovely and I went for a walk to do some shopping. I had an urge to make some soup. I went to the butcher and he sorted me out with some chicken bones. I made the stock from scratch and then went on to make a sweet potato soup from intuition, rather than recipe. It wasn't a bad attempt (if I say so myself). It can't have been that bad, because Boy and mate finished off the lot this morning on their return from a sleepover. Tonight it's a lentil, potato soup thang.

Comfort food is a wonderful thing and I'm really enjoying cooking in my own kitchen again. Though, I'm constantly finding Boy used the necessary ingredients and hasn't replaced them. I've been very indulgent and am having Sainsbury's deliver a mahusive shop tomorrow. The idea of pushing a trolley around a supermarket for a couple of hours fills me with dread. Just can't face it. On-line shopping is definitely the way to go.

My body clock is still on Trini time and my sleep patterns are shot. But it's early days and I'm finding great comfort in being home again.

Gardening...

I've taken a couple of days off work to try and catch my breath a bit. Strangely, it's coincided with some fabulous weather, which has means I can sit out in the sunshine. I've completely ignored all my Lancome training which categorically states 'Thou shalt not sunbathe'. I turn up my music, open my patio doors, call for the Cat and sit out there, occasionally breathing smoke over the aphids munching my roses.

It has been a very good way to recharge my batteries.

As I lie there, slowly cooking, I daydream about my garden. The grass has got to go, seems bloody ridiculous having a small garden being taken up by a patch of dubious grass. I've got a list of things I'd like in the garden, but haven't got a clue how it'll all fit together.

A bit like life really.

Emergency Stress Reduction Kit

Many thanks to Colin for this, I will be following the instructions shortly.

Working for a Living

What can I say? I'm knackered. This working for a living business is tough. Even though I worked in the office over the summer, so I had some idea of what I was letting myself in for, I have been struggling to make the jump from Orange Woman to Office Biatch.

When you work with women, especially in the Orange Industry, they notice things. If you've changed your lippy, eye-liner or have a new shirt - they'll spot it and give their tuppence worth. I've got used to walking onto the shop floor and be greeted with 'good lipstick'. Now, working in an office, they only comment I get is whether the coffee is too strong. They don't care what I look like as long as I don't turn up in jeans.

Today, I've been hit by the 'am I doing a good job' neuroses? What if they're regretting taking me on? What if they think everything that I've done so far - sucks? My job description changes every day and I'm scrabbling round trying to learn this new sector I find myself in. After all, there really is no difference between £160 face cream and £16,000 eco-heating solution, is there? Today, I felt I was sliding off the wrong side of the learning curve. I'm very aware that this the private sector where they can hire and fire on a whim and I really, really don't want to fuck this up. I want to do my job and do it welll.

When I interupt my hyperventilating, and rationalise, I tell myself that it's still very early days. I just have to do what I say I'm going to do, keep my head down and learn the job. I have to give myself time and trust that they saw my potential, and although I don't feel it at the moment, I will do it. I will achieve my potential.

Getting On a Bit

It's official. I am a year older today. So I went to work.

I've been feeling very pre-menstrual to the point where the cat stopped talking to me and started fleeing the room I walked in. Boy merely put his head-phones on and listened to Penduluum. My Viking gave me cuddles and was sympathetic as I tried to bite the carpet in my frustration.

Despite the horrid moodiness, I've had a really nice birthday. I bought loads of cakes for the ladies at work, when it was quiet I pottered around in the stockroom and played with our new testers. I like playing with Stuff, don't quite know why, I just do. I think I'm just a hoarder at heart, which is probably why I've got a silly amount of fragrances, cosmetics and make-up. Thanks to my birthday bag from work, that pile has just got a little bit higher - much to my delight. I've been treated to loads of fabulous new colours, cosmetics and some of my favourite fragrances. I think my bottle count is now 19! Oops. Perhaps that is a touch over the top.

I'm settling into my job quite nicely. My Counter Manager is such a sweetie. She's been in the industry long enough to know her stuff backwards, but is still enthusiastic about her work. The training has done wonders for my confidence in the product knowledge, which has meant that I've been landing some good sales. I no longer feel apologetic for charging a hideous amount of money for our products. They cost a lot, because a lot goes into them. They really do what they say on the jar.

Apart from the attack of the Grumps, life continues quite happily.

The Birds and the Bees

I believe my primary purpose as a parent is to prepare Boy for his life ahead as an independent, functioning adult. Last year, he and I had cause to have The Conversation about *sex*, which we both found excrutiating, but I persevered to the very end and we agreed never to have to repeat the experience.

My Viking and I were recently sharing coffee and conversation and we drifted to the issue of consent. He laughed when I said how concerned I was when the time came, that Boy realised the importance of gaining consent. I had told Boy that if a girl was pissed, even if she said 'yes' to treat it as NO, take her home, ring her again when she sobered up. My Viking's argument was that I was being unrealistic, most teenagers tend to get laid when alcohol was involved and it was unlikely that Boy would be any different. My argument was to do with the safety of the girl involved and the problem of date-rape. If a girl can't remember giving consent, because she's too pissed and realises she's had sex, I'd really rather it weren't my Boy in the dock.

Age is another issue. Have you seen teenage girls recently? They are deeply scary. How can anyone tell how old they are? They're all made up, boobs poking out everywhere, lots of flesh and not a lot of clothing. How is any bloke in a dark nightclub, supposed to know the age of the woman pressed up against him? It's not like much conversation is going on. My way round this is to advise Boy to demand to see Proof of Age. My Viking looked at me askance. He suggested that it was a bit of a passion-killer. I shrugged and wondered what the problem with that was.

Ultimately, I want to be able to issue Boy with a Consent Form and a Breathalyser, along with the packet of mega-thick, anti-viral, condoms. That way, I know he'll be completely safe. My Viking tells me I'm being over-protective and unrealistic. I suspect he's right. I know for Boy to grow up into Man, he will have to negotiate these minefields for himself. But it's a harsh world out there, and the smallest stupid choice can have such devastating consequences for all involved.

It's My Party...

...and I'll throw a tantrum if I want to. The degree show is tomorrow. The Creative Practice tutor called a meeting at 3.30 today and my good mood dissapated like a cloud being hit by the sun. Up until then I was fine. Mellow even.

My Viking turned up this afternoon bearing gifts. Don't mind me, but I am going to bask. He bought me a congratualtory card, olives and JT! Okay, the CD. My Viking so rocks! We cuddled, caught up on the gossip and headed into town for lunch and a bit of retail therapy. He went to have a haircut, I went off to the meeting before the cinema.

We've still got a day's worth of work to do. One person isn't coming, at all. Another, who knows? Of the six exhibiting tomorrow, there were three of us. There's also the important stuff to do, essential for any party...buy the drinkies and munchies. Plus I am determined to be glam.

I've got two blogging guests stopping with me tomorrow night, so it's going to get cosy round here. Yay! Really looking forward to meeting Monkfish and seeing Hottie again. So, that's four people who are definitely going to be there (including Viking and Boy). I've got leave to buy 12 bottles of wine, so if no bugger else turns up I suspect I'm going to be a bit fragile travelling to Dublin in the early hours on Thursday.

Ch-ch-ch-changes

Welcome to my new look blog. Blame it on Sanddancer. I have been happy with my blog and how it's looked since I set it up; and then I saw her changes. I thought, hmmm...so I had look in the templates, saw this and liked it much.

I have crawled out of my Pit of Despair and while I'm not exactly feeling on top form, I'm not curled up in the foetal position under my desk either. I've done my 3 poems and I might see if I can do a few more (it always pays to have extra). My prose is finished, but I'm still struggling with the ending. Lacks a bit of punch. At the moment I'm 600 words over my limit and I'm loathe to cut them, especially since I'll probably be adding to them a bit later today. It's all part of the craft. Editing has got to be the most tedious, but most necessary part of the process. As a writer, you have to be prepared to delete your most favourite bits of writing. Not for the faint hearted.

I realised that I hadn't appraised you on my work situation for some time now. I'm still working on a casual basis for the department store and still having fun. I find that selling perfumes and cosmetics is a frivolous and fun way to pay for my coffees and paninnis. The Great British Public are an endless sourse of amusement and material; and I must say I am very fond of them.

On Saturdays, the Perfumery dept discards the black and white uniform in favour of brightly coloured tops and lots of cleavage. Yesterday was a bit of an exception. In support of a local charity, they decided to host some activities which included a raffle, prize draw and the cosmetic houses were doing mini-makeovers. The regular girls were dressed in kaftans, I was dressed in pink. I had lots of fun acosting people and getting them to dip into their pockets for raffle tickets. I don't mean to boast, but towards the end of the day, my bucket was getting very heavy.

I did however, have an interesting encounter, with a very large lady. She had been asked to make a donation on one door and refused, and when she spotted me standing further in store, she pounced.

"Why do you feel it necessary to ask people for donations? I feel really uncomfortable saying 'no'. It put me in a really awkward position."

Whoa.

I explained what we were doing and why. It turns out the lady was also fundraising for the same organisation. At the end of the conversation, I still wasn't sure why she was so unhappy. People who take up a bucket, or leaflets, or samples, or any kind of traffic stopping work, expect rejection. It's nice when whoever approached is polite, or has a smile with the shake of the head; but that's the icing on the cake. The cake itself is people who just walk away, people who put their hand up in your face, people who ignore you. I wasn't worried about the rejection and I didn't think any worse of anyone who did. I myself don't support any particular charity on a regular basis, though I do voluntary work when I can. So I was a bit taken aback by this woman's discomfort.

However, this anecdote does have a happy ending. After quite a lengthy conversation and a few empathetic statements "I'm sorry you felt uncomfortable about saying 'no'", she dipped into her pockets and bought some raffle tickets.

Still Standing (just)

My weekend did not have a particularly good start. I'd bought tickets to visit the Viking's longboat and I'd managed to drag myself out of my sickbed having progressed to the dry hack, sore throat and concrete sinuses of the cold, get myself ready and packed. I was actually at the bus stop in plenty of time. And I waited. And waited. And then a small spark went off in the corner of my brain. There was a bus strike. Needless to say I missed my train. Fortunately, I'd purchased an open ticket and it meant that the Viking could grab another hour in bed as he'd just come off nights.

By the time I got to him, I was hacking like a 60-a-day veteran and feeling like three shades of shite. I briefly considered doing the 'stiff upper lip', but I felt so dreadful, I went straight into 'dying swan'. I got taken home, tucked into bed with a cup of tea and two paracetmols. Bliss. I got all the tea and sympathy I could handle. Made being sick almost worth it.

Unfortunately, I'm now even further behind in my work since I was busy dying last week and this week, I have 4 days paid employment, which means I'll be writing well into the night to catch up. College have been putting on 'after you graduate' sessions, which has brought home the reality that in three months time, I will be donning cap and gown and leaving behind my title of 'full-time student'.

What am I going to do? I'm supposed to be a grown-up for goodness sake. I don't feel robust enough for London. It may be something I'd consider in the future, but at the moment I need the familar around me. I have been thinking about doing the MA in Digital Practice at the college, the appeal of that course being that it would enable me to continue to work in a digital forum, which would mean more projects like Journeying.

I am quite amazed that it's nearly been a year since I started on the project. So much has changed for me and the work itself has fed into other aspects of my life in the most spectacular ways. It's not really surprising that I feel reluctant to close this chapter, but the book continues...

Homesick

I made it back into Norwich eventually last night. Was reunited with Boy at Gee's, which was lovely. By the way, he lied to me, you will be shocked to discover. He had grown while I was away, despite his reasurrences to the contrary. Humpf. Britwitch has looked after flat, cat and Boy so well, I'm thinking of asking her to move in to look after me as well. Hehehe. Poor woman, she was probably relieved to get back to a less chaotic household. Last night, I went with a caffeine induced burst of energy and unpacked my bags, sorted through the 132 e-mails, and post waiting for me.

What I do find disconcerting is the silence. In Trinidad, there is so much noise. Birds, insects, humans, vehicles. There is very little in the way of wildlife noises round here or traffic. I'm trying to find a way to describe it without descending into cliche and I must confess, I'm struggling.

This morning, despite feeling like I've been running marathons, I'm wide awake and my mind is filled with a thousand different thoughts, ranging from home and lifestyle improvements to employment and my favourite pastime - shopping. It's probably better that you don't ask how I am doing, I don't know.

For Remembrance

For my friends who serve.

Waving

This week I've had to come to the rather disappointing conclusion that I am not Superwoman. My tutors have given me 'that look' along with 'that lecture' and consequently I've had to have a quiet re-think about my work-life balance. I am just knackered, the flat is a tip, boy and I haven't had a 'proper' meal in ages. A fabulous colleague is going to pick up one of my shifts next Saturday and I've asked a student I know to come blitz my flat every week.

Today, I am not working, so I'm in my jammies, catching up on the blogging world I've missed out on all week. Later I'll be trouping down to the college library to pay my fines and borrow some more books. The task for today is: dissertation proposal. Nothing else. If it takes me all day, so be it.

Meanwhile, this morning we had our first proper frost of the Winter. It was amazing, white crystals sparkling in the dawn. I have to confesss that I've had my standard winter gear on for quite awhile now. Thick 60 dernier tights, woolly black socks, black thermal long-sleeved vest. Given that I must look drop-dead gorgeous in these deeply sexy undergarments, I am surprised that I'm still single.