I chickened out. I called for reinforcements. The Petite Ursus came, held my hand as I searched for the bits of paper. I had a long hard think and prioritised my bureacracy. I found the most important bit and have dealt with my Car Tax. The other...well, I'll deal with it when I get back. There's nothing I can do about it now. And no, Mago there's no jail time associated with that one.
Blogger seems to be eating comments at the moment. Please keep commenting. I get them on e-mail and your kind messages are wonderful for me to read as my spirit starts to flag.
Showing posts with label updates. Show all posts
Showing posts with label updates. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 06, 2010
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Stress Monkey
Upon my return I was pleased to see my house standing and the Cat alive. The garden has grown interesting sets of weeds, the bindweed and brambles took advantage of my absence, I have been gradually thinning their numbers every time I go out for a smoke. Bwahahaha. The Pond of Amphibian Filth and Depravity is now a nursery with lots and lots of tadpoles which I am well pleased about. I'm fond of frogs, as is the Cat, but for different reasons.
I'm gradually wading through the mounds of laundry and post. Unhappily, while I was doing the latter it came to my attention that my bank had fucked up and there was fresh air blowing through it. Therefore on my first full day back I spent the afternoon shouting at them to rectify their cock-up. Which quite frankly, I could have done without.
Yesterday, was a stress day of monumental proportions. I lost 7 hours trying to sort out a problem with my primary e-mail account. It's a web based e-mail account that since I bought my laptop has been 'interesting' as it does not do what it says on the tin. My most unhappy moment came when I finally got through to the help desk in India (after many goes in the telephone spaghetti junction which is Richard Branson's idea of IT support) to be told that the Help Desk does not support Ms Outlook Express. As I am running the full Outlook, apparently this means they are completely unable to assist. People, I was not a Happy Bunny. Especially, seeing as after all of that they're going to charge me 50p a min and it took me 5 goes to get that slap in the face. I've patched the problem so far, and I'm hoping that bribery and corruption will mean that a friend of mine will have a look at the problem and fix it later this week.
Today has been far more pleasant. I had a bit of a lie-in and have been re-assessing my plans for World Domination. I've got to get a few more irons in the fire, so I've been having a look at other fires to poke. We'll see what happens.
Apart from that, I still don't feel here yet. It takes me about a week to make the cultural transition. But I've done this many times before and I know how the song goes, it's just a question of going with the flow.
I'm gradually wading through the mounds of laundry and post. Unhappily, while I was doing the latter it came to my attention that my bank had fucked up and there was fresh air blowing through it. Therefore on my first full day back I spent the afternoon shouting at them to rectify their cock-up. Which quite frankly, I could have done without.
Yesterday, was a stress day of monumental proportions. I lost 7 hours trying to sort out a problem with my primary e-mail account. It's a web based e-mail account that since I bought my laptop has been 'interesting' as it does not do what it says on the tin. My most unhappy moment came when I finally got through to the help desk in India (after many goes in the telephone spaghetti junction which is Richard Branson's idea of IT support) to be told that the Help Desk does not support Ms Outlook Express. As I am running the full Outlook, apparently this means they are completely unable to assist. People, I was not a Happy Bunny. Especially, seeing as after all of that they're going to charge me 50p a min and it took me 5 goes to get that slap in the face. I've patched the problem so far, and I'm hoping that bribery and corruption will mean that a friend of mine will have a look at the problem and fix it later this week.
Today has been far more pleasant. I had a bit of a lie-in and have been re-assessing my plans for World Domination. I've got to get a few more irons in the fire, so I've been having a look at other fires to poke. We'll see what happens.
Apart from that, I still don't feel here yet. It takes me about a week to make the cultural transition. But I've done this many times before and I know how the song goes, it's just a question of going with the flow.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Stress!
I've run out of optimism today. The English airports are still shut. It's Tuesday. We're supposed to fly out Sunday and yes, we have time, but as each day goes by it becomes more and more worrying.
My Father #1 says what we need is the weather to change. The ash is hanging around thanks to a high weather system hanging around. I never thought I'd see the day when I'd be praying for bad weather. A low pressure system will change the way the winds flow and move the ash off England and into the Atlantic.
Boy's school has been fantastic. They've e-mail through revision work and have been in e-mail contact with him about his coursework due this morning and the end of the week. He's been cracking on with it, with no nagging from me. He did have an IT blip, but an e-mail got their IT department to sort it out.
The stress of this is seeing me outside more often puffing away. I'm continuing to write and am getting nowhere at the moment. I'm going to curl up with a crap book and sulk.
Please pray to your favourite deity to get the weather to change. I want to come home now.
My Father #1 says what we need is the weather to change. The ash is hanging around thanks to a high weather system hanging around. I never thought I'd see the day when I'd be praying for bad weather. A low pressure system will change the way the winds flow and move the ash off England and into the Atlantic.
Boy's school has been fantastic. They've e-mail through revision work and have been in e-mail contact with him about his coursework due this morning and the end of the week. He's been cracking on with it, with no nagging from me. He did have an IT blip, but an e-mail got their IT department to sort it out.
The stress of this is seeing me outside more often puffing away. I'm continuing to write and am getting nowhere at the moment. I'm going to curl up with a crap book and sulk.
Please pray to your favourite deity to get the weather to change. I want to come home now.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Quick Update
Thanks to the efforts of my SIL to find me a human being to talk to, our flights have now been re-booked for next week Sunday. All being well, we'll rock up to LGW on Monday morning. Yeah, right. At this point I'm just being tentatively optimistic.
Tuesday, April 06, 2010
Ah Feelin Hot, Hot, Hot
If you are reading this huddled around fire, wrapped up under layers of clothing, my apologies. Perhaps you should come back in two weeks time.
The average temp in Trinidad at the moment, the height of the Dry Season, it's 36'C. I'm writing this wearing a skimpy top and a pair of denim shorts, with my hair tied up, off the back of my neck. I do wish my family would have fed the mosquitos before we arrived. They smelt foreign blood and said 'Om nom nom'. I could play connect the dots on my legs and make a Picasso painting. Today, I was smarter and slathered on the repellant. It's certainly repelling me.
The last few days have been spent on the move. On Sunday evening we went to the Blue Range reunion. Blue Range was the area my brother grew up. As I arrived 10 years later, I missed most of their escapades. But the old crew, now all middle aged with familial and economic responsibilities, got to relive the good ole days. The way they grew up, with the only rule of Be Home by Dark, is a fond and distant memory. They talked about roaming around the neighbourhood, picking fruit from trees, making toys from sticks and playing pranks on each other could never be recreated now. It's a victim of a more health and safety culture. It's a wonder any of them survived. They drank water from outside taps, ate fruit straight from the tree they picked by climbing up unsupervised and without safety gear. They entertained and fought without adult supervision and being told to 'play nice'. They learnt to sort their own problems out, to shrug off their hurts and to have fun.
I had a fantastic time. I was able to sit away from most of the crowd, but I still had company and was able to chat and dance and drink to my heart's content. The bar was free. I had 2 rum punches to start with and then moved on to the rum and cokes. The barman had a very light hand to start with at the end of the evening, one of my brother's partners in crime was returning to me with a drink that looked like weak tea. I swear there was only a teaspoon of coke. Needless to say, I did my usual drunk texting when I got home. When will I learn?
Yesterday, I crawled out of bed at 6.30 (that's am, apparently there are two 6 o'clocks in the day, I'm not impressed). I was not feeling very well. I had a smoke, a coffee and a couple of large glasses of water. I went back to bed for an hour and a half. When I got up, my brother offered a trip to the beach which I accepted. I figured it was kill or cure. I'm glad we did. It was great to see my family's old beach house. The Rock is still there in all it's glory. Boy and I slathered up and hit the beach for a couple of hours. We still are a whiter shade of pale, so we need to be very careful in the intense sunshine. Getting sun burnt here will not be any fun what so ever.
Last night, there was more socialising. Fantastic food, good company. I did not drink. I could not face it.
Thankfully, my Brother and SIL have to work, so Boy and I have a day of rest. I have a sore throat which I'm not impressed with, you know how good I am at being sick; and I'm still feeling washed out by the travelling. It's great hanging out with my Dad, Niece and Nephew today; we are just chilling. We will be off to Mayaro, to my brother's estate in the rural south of Trinidad for a few days. Bush, as they say here. Proper rainforest. Though there's not much rain at the moment. There has been a 55 day gap between rainfalls and everything is tinder dry. The hills behind my brother's house are burning night and day.
Right, my 4 year old Niece has completely run out of patience with me blogging. I'm off to compare nail polish.
The average temp in Trinidad at the moment, the height of the Dry Season, it's 36'C. I'm writing this wearing a skimpy top and a pair of denim shorts, with my hair tied up, off the back of my neck. I do wish my family would have fed the mosquitos before we arrived. They smelt foreign blood and said 'Om nom nom'. I could play connect the dots on my legs and make a Picasso painting. Today, I was smarter and slathered on the repellant. It's certainly repelling me.
The last few days have been spent on the move. On Sunday evening we went to the Blue Range reunion. Blue Range was the area my brother grew up. As I arrived 10 years later, I missed most of their escapades. But the old crew, now all middle aged with familial and economic responsibilities, got to relive the good ole days. The way they grew up, with the only rule of Be Home by Dark, is a fond and distant memory. They talked about roaming around the neighbourhood, picking fruit from trees, making toys from sticks and playing pranks on each other could never be recreated now. It's a victim of a more health and safety culture. It's a wonder any of them survived. They drank water from outside taps, ate fruit straight from the tree they picked by climbing up unsupervised and without safety gear. They entertained and fought without adult supervision and being told to 'play nice'. They learnt to sort their own problems out, to shrug off their hurts and to have fun.
I had a fantastic time. I was able to sit away from most of the crowd, but I still had company and was able to chat and dance and drink to my heart's content. The bar was free. I had 2 rum punches to start with and then moved on to the rum and cokes. The barman had a very light hand to start with at the end of the evening, one of my brother's partners in crime was returning to me with a drink that looked like weak tea. I swear there was only a teaspoon of coke. Needless to say, I did my usual drunk texting when I got home. When will I learn?
Yesterday, I crawled out of bed at 6.30 (that's am, apparently there are two 6 o'clocks in the day, I'm not impressed). I was not feeling very well. I had a smoke, a coffee and a couple of large glasses of water. I went back to bed for an hour and a half. When I got up, my brother offered a trip to the beach which I accepted. I figured it was kill or cure. I'm glad we did. It was great to see my family's old beach house. The Rock is still there in all it's glory. Boy and I slathered up and hit the beach for a couple of hours. We still are a whiter shade of pale, so we need to be very careful in the intense sunshine. Getting sun burnt here will not be any fun what so ever.
Last night, there was more socialising. Fantastic food, good company. I did not drink. I could not face it.
Thankfully, my Brother and SIL have to work, so Boy and I have a day of rest. I have a sore throat which I'm not impressed with, you know how good I am at being sick; and I'm still feeling washed out by the travelling. It's great hanging out with my Dad, Niece and Nephew today; we are just chilling. We will be off to Mayaro, to my brother's estate in the rural south of Trinidad for a few days. Bush, as they say here. Proper rainforest. Though there's not much rain at the moment. There has been a 55 day gap between rainfalls and everything is tinder dry. The hills behind my brother's house are burning night and day.
Right, my 4 year old Niece has completely run out of patience with me blogging. I'm off to compare nail polish.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Home
I'm sat here trying to come up with the right words to describe how I feel at the moment.
The last three days have been whizzed past, and by some miracle, there are only 6 boxes left to unpack. Bearing in mind that my books alone were 30 boxes, not to mention many tens of boxes of my crap. But as I look about our new house, filled with our stuff, it feels like home. So much so, I am waiting for someone to leap out and say 'fooled you, it's not yours - you didn't really think you could live here?'
Don't get me wrong, there is still loads to sort out. We might have unpacked, but we're still figuring out the best place to put things. Last night, when Boy cleared off with his mates, I wondered around with a feeling of such bliss, such ease. This feels so right, it's almost scary. This was love at first sight, and I was afraid to trust it, afraid to hope that this could be mine, now I'm here, I just feel incredibly lucky; and thankful.
I have much to be thankful for. Life may not have been easy and things don't go smoothly, but I am thankful for my friends who love me for myself and are open and generous with their time and affection; I am thankful to my Boy, who might be a teenager, but is still truly wonderful and I still think there is sunshine in his bony, little backside; I am thankful for our new home, may we have many happy years here.
I would also like to thank Richard Branson. All of you know how he has brought me despair in the past, from the moment I pick up the phone and wade my way through his telephone labyrinth, I want to consume my body weight in valium. But today, I have to take it all back. Even he came through for me. Tuesday morning, I was on the futon, trying to stay out of the movers way, making as many of the 'we're moving' calls. I gritted my teeth, rang Virgin, got a very nice guy who happily organised a package upgrade, as well as the house move. He told me the engineer would be out between 13:00 and 18:00 hours today. I wrote off my afternoon.
Early afternoon, I was playing with my new washing machine and dryer; the phone rang, it was the engineer, letting me know he'd be with me at 13.30. At 13.15, he knocked on my door. By 14.30, he set me up with a ridiculously fast internet, new tv box and switched on my phone. I did another load of laundry, slapped some gloss on and went to chat up up my favourite BMW salesman (of course he needs to change my address, so all of the fabulous brochures know where to find me).
I am beginning to feel more like myself again, I didn't realise how tightly I was holding it all together. It feels like I'm letting the tension go, one vertebra at a time. For the first time in weeks, I painted my toe nails - hot, sparkly pink. Tomorrow, I go for a massage and a facial.
Life isn't too bad at all, really.
The last three days have been whizzed past, and by some miracle, there are only 6 boxes left to unpack. Bearing in mind that my books alone were 30 boxes, not to mention many tens of boxes of my crap. But as I look about our new house, filled with our stuff, it feels like home. So much so, I am waiting for someone to leap out and say 'fooled you, it's not yours - you didn't really think you could live here?'
Don't get me wrong, there is still loads to sort out. We might have unpacked, but we're still figuring out the best place to put things. Last night, when Boy cleared off with his mates, I wondered around with a feeling of such bliss, such ease. This feels so right, it's almost scary. This was love at first sight, and I was afraid to trust it, afraid to hope that this could be mine, now I'm here, I just feel incredibly lucky; and thankful.
I have much to be thankful for. Life may not have been easy and things don't go smoothly, but I am thankful for my friends who love me for myself and are open and generous with their time and affection; I am thankful to my Boy, who might be a teenager, but is still truly wonderful and I still think there is sunshine in his bony, little backside; I am thankful for our new home, may we have many happy years here.
I would also like to thank Richard Branson. All of you know how he has brought me despair in the past, from the moment I pick up the phone and wade my way through his telephone labyrinth, I want to consume my body weight in valium. But today, I have to take it all back. Even he came through for me. Tuesday morning, I was on the futon, trying to stay out of the movers way, making as many of the 'we're moving' calls. I gritted my teeth, rang Virgin, got a very nice guy who happily organised a package upgrade, as well as the house move. He told me the engineer would be out between 13:00 and 18:00 hours today. I wrote off my afternoon.
Early afternoon, I was playing with my new washing machine and dryer; the phone rang, it was the engineer, letting me know he'd be with me at 13.30. At 13.15, he knocked on my door. By 14.30, he set me up with a ridiculously fast internet, new tv box and switched on my phone. I did another load of laundry, slapped some gloss on and went to chat up up my favourite BMW salesman (of course he needs to change my address, so all of the fabulous brochures know where to find me).
I am beginning to feel more like myself again, I didn't realise how tightly I was holding it all together. It feels like I'm letting the tension go, one vertebra at a time. For the first time in weeks, I painted my toe nails - hot, sparkly pink. Tomorrow, I go for a massage and a facial.
Life isn't too bad at all, really.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Moving Day
Times, they are a changin'.
After I wrote the last blog post and worked over yet another weekend, pulled some more late nights and started at the crack of sparrowfart...the thought of moving filled me with even more dread, horror and exhaustion than I could cope with. I was Rabbit in the Headlights.
The Director, during one of the many phone calls exchanged, heard this and made a suggestion 'why don't you hire a removal company, if you're not going to decorate?'
It was as if I could suddenly breathe again. The tightness disappeared round my chest, my shoulders dropped from round my ears. Not having to worry about packing...wonderful.
The house sale went through no problem on Wednesday and I'm now the proud owner of a fabulous semi-detached, 3 bedroomed house, complete with garden, driveway and a pond. On Thursday, I huffed Boy out of bed so we could wait for the Bastard Plumber to boot up my gas and water. While I waited I rang a removals company, I intended to do the best of three. A cheerful bloke on the other end said 'I'm just drinking a cup of tea, I'm not in a suit or anything, but I can be with you in 10 mins to give you a quote.' And he was, 10 mins later wandering around, saying hi to the Cat, gave me a quote and arranged to have a guy round later to pack up my bookshelves (3 full-length, double stacked, plus a small one).
Tomorrow, they move us.
Today, Boy and I will be pottering about getting ready. Although, they will pack clothes etc. I'm thinking I don't want them handling my pants or porn. Also, they'll move us over 2 days, so we'll have to get the stuff we'll need for the next few days. Thursday, the new fridge/freezer, washing machine and tumble drier get delivered. I'm not getting a dishwasher, as much as I want one, there simply is no room.
Sometime tomorrow, in between moving boxes, making tea and being stressed, I will also have to work up the courage to talk to Virgin Media and get them to set me up in the new house. If I can achieve this without losing my temper, or several strands of hair, I will be very pleased with myself. Unfortunately, it'll probably mean at least a couple of weeks without internet at home.
It's not all doom and gloom though. I finished work at 7pm Thursday, came home nodded to Boy, cracked open a bottle of cider and headed to bed at 8.30, I didn't remove myself from there until 10am the next day. I made a start in catching up with people I haven't seen or been sociable with for ages, which unfortunately, is a very long list and I'm not going to be able to get round to everyone. So if I haven't rung, texted, e-mailed, it's not that I don't love you...promise. I've also been catching up on my sleep, the dark circles are nearly gone, but my energy levels haven't caught up yet. I still feel very knackered.
I can only do, what I can do. It really is as simple as that. I wish I had boundless energy that my friends have; their ability to do loads of things at any one time and still have a Life. I don't. And it's a constant source of frustration and angst for me. But that's the way it is and beating myself up about it, isn't making it any better.
I'm just going to keep taking small steps with the hope and faith that I really am going in the right direction.
After I wrote the last blog post and worked over yet another weekend, pulled some more late nights and started at the crack of sparrowfart...the thought of moving filled me with even more dread, horror and exhaustion than I could cope with. I was Rabbit in the Headlights.
The Director, during one of the many phone calls exchanged, heard this and made a suggestion 'why don't you hire a removal company, if you're not going to decorate?'
It was as if I could suddenly breathe again. The tightness disappeared round my chest, my shoulders dropped from round my ears. Not having to worry about packing...wonderful.
The house sale went through no problem on Wednesday and I'm now the proud owner of a fabulous semi-detached, 3 bedroomed house, complete with garden, driveway and a pond. On Thursday, I huffed Boy out of bed so we could wait for the Bastard Plumber to boot up my gas and water. While I waited I rang a removals company, I intended to do the best of three. A cheerful bloke on the other end said 'I'm just drinking a cup of tea, I'm not in a suit or anything, but I can be with you in 10 mins to give you a quote.' And he was, 10 mins later wandering around, saying hi to the Cat, gave me a quote and arranged to have a guy round later to pack up my bookshelves (3 full-length, double stacked, plus a small one).
Tomorrow, they move us.
Today, Boy and I will be pottering about getting ready. Although, they will pack clothes etc. I'm thinking I don't want them handling my pants or porn. Also, they'll move us over 2 days, so we'll have to get the stuff we'll need for the next few days. Thursday, the new fridge/freezer, washing machine and tumble drier get delivered. I'm not getting a dishwasher, as much as I want one, there simply is no room.
Sometime tomorrow, in between moving boxes, making tea and being stressed, I will also have to work up the courage to talk to Virgin Media and get them to set me up in the new house. If I can achieve this without losing my temper, or several strands of hair, I will be very pleased with myself. Unfortunately, it'll probably mean at least a couple of weeks without internet at home.
It's not all doom and gloom though. I finished work at 7pm Thursday, came home nodded to Boy, cracked open a bottle of cider and headed to bed at 8.30, I didn't remove myself from there until 10am the next day. I made a start in catching up with people I haven't seen or been sociable with for ages, which unfortunately, is a very long list and I'm not going to be able to get round to everyone. So if I haven't rung, texted, e-mailed, it's not that I don't love you...promise. I've also been catching up on my sleep, the dark circles are nearly gone, but my energy levels haven't caught up yet. I still feel very knackered.
I can only do, what I can do. It really is as simple as that. I wish I had boundless energy that my friends have; their ability to do loads of things at any one time and still have a Life. I don't. And it's a constant source of frustration and angst for me. But that's the way it is and beating myself up about it, isn't making it any better.
I'm just going to keep taking small steps with the hope and faith that I really am going in the right direction.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Spring has Sprung
Driving home tonight I realised that it was just Dusk! After months of driving home in the pitch black, it brought such a smile. While putting out the wheelie bin I admired the bunches of daffs braving the chilly morning. It has been such a relief to not wake up to ice crystals coating every bloody surface. I don't know about you, but I have had quite enough of the bloody winter.
It's a strange time all round and while things seem to be progressing satisfactorily in many things, it's happening at a glacial pace. And as we all know, patience has never been my virtue. Ever.
It's been about a month into my regime change and I lost 7lb. Unfortunately, I did too much too soon and managed to put my system into complete shock, so I had to cut things back again and I've gained 2lb. However, as I am now progressing onto the Davina McColl set of workouts which are far more demanding, I am believing a colleague who said it was muscle, not fat. With my dodgy knee, I have been trying not to push things too fast and so far, touch wood, it's been fine. I've realised I can't bear doing any more than half an hour's worth of exercise, so I'm going to stick with that, and as my energy levels increase I'll do more stuff in the evenings.
Speaking of which, I am really quite surprised at the difference the exercise and change of diet has been making to me. It shows in odd ways: like the fact that you can actually see the floor in my bedroom. The piles of laundry have now gone. I am now also a little bit more organised with my admin. Once a week I sort through my post, shred and recycle things and sort things out as necessary. While it may not look more sorted, trust me, it is.
In some ways, I also feel more perky and flirty. Which led to a guy, a rather cute guy, after several encounters say to me that he'd call. That in itself was fine. While I know I don't need to run things past the Viking, I don't need his permission to have a separate social life now, I did want to be straight with him about it. It certainly was a bit of a weird conversation, but worthwhile. In a way, it reinforced our friendship. In the end though, the guy didn't ring. Boo Hiss. I suspect that wasn't the point. It made me realise that while I'm happy having a flirt, I'm not ready for anything serious, or even light-hearted at the moment. It's enough to feel perky and flirty.
Boy and I continue to go to Salsa. He has started to go to the sessions at the Forum on Monday nights. I'm happy giving that session a miss as I don't like dancing on the cold, hard tiled floor, it hurts my hips and knees. This half-term I've hardly seen him, he's been bumming round Norwich with a gaggle of teens, going to the movies, swimming and to local eateries. I dropped him off and picked him up from Salsa and he was buzzing, he took some mates and by the sounds of things, they had a completely brilliant time.
I love dancing and will groove away quite happily to pretty much anything. I find Salsa a challenge, mainly because I have to let myself be led. And we all know how well I do as I'm told! So being able to give myself up to a man and be led is a big deal and sometimes I'm better at it, than others. I am determined to stick with it because I think it represents a bigger Life Lesson for me.
When I have set ideas about things, I've noticed, they either never go according to plan, or end up completely unsatisfactory, with much angst and gnashing of teeth. In the past few years, the best times have happened when I've given myself up to the moment. My relationship with the Viking proves that point. Therefore, I am trying to not be such a Control Freak all the time. Whether Boy will agree, I'm not sure, but I am trying.
I suspect that's all that matters at the moment, that I keep trying.
It's a strange time all round and while things seem to be progressing satisfactorily in many things, it's happening at a glacial pace. And as we all know, patience has never been my virtue. Ever.
It's been about a month into my regime change and I lost 7lb. Unfortunately, I did too much too soon and managed to put my system into complete shock, so I had to cut things back again and I've gained 2lb. However, as I am now progressing onto the Davina McColl set of workouts which are far more demanding, I am believing a colleague who said it was muscle, not fat. With my dodgy knee, I have been trying not to push things too fast and so far, touch wood, it's been fine. I've realised I can't bear doing any more than half an hour's worth of exercise, so I'm going to stick with that, and as my energy levels increase I'll do more stuff in the evenings.
Speaking of which, I am really quite surprised at the difference the exercise and change of diet has been making to me. It shows in odd ways: like the fact that you can actually see the floor in my bedroom. The piles of laundry have now gone. I am now also a little bit more organised with my admin. Once a week I sort through my post, shred and recycle things and sort things out as necessary. While it may not look more sorted, trust me, it is.
In some ways, I also feel more perky and flirty. Which led to a guy, a rather cute guy, after several encounters say to me that he'd call. That in itself was fine. While I know I don't need to run things past the Viking, I don't need his permission to have a separate social life now, I did want to be straight with him about it. It certainly was a bit of a weird conversation, but worthwhile. In a way, it reinforced our friendship. In the end though, the guy didn't ring. Boo Hiss. I suspect that wasn't the point. It made me realise that while I'm happy having a flirt, I'm not ready for anything serious, or even light-hearted at the moment. It's enough to feel perky and flirty.
Boy and I continue to go to Salsa. He has started to go to the sessions at the Forum on Monday nights. I'm happy giving that session a miss as I don't like dancing on the cold, hard tiled floor, it hurts my hips and knees. This half-term I've hardly seen him, he's been bumming round Norwich with a gaggle of teens, going to the movies, swimming and to local eateries. I dropped him off and picked him up from Salsa and he was buzzing, he took some mates and by the sounds of things, they had a completely brilliant time.
I love dancing and will groove away quite happily to pretty much anything. I find Salsa a challenge, mainly because I have to let myself be led. And we all know how well I do as I'm told! So being able to give myself up to a man and be led is a big deal and sometimes I'm better at it, than others. I am determined to stick with it because I think it represents a bigger Life Lesson for me.
When I have set ideas about things, I've noticed, they either never go according to plan, or end up completely unsatisfactory, with much angst and gnashing of teeth. In the past few years, the best times have happened when I've given myself up to the moment. My relationship with the Viking proves that point. Therefore, I am trying to not be such a Control Freak all the time. Whether Boy will agree, I'm not sure, but I am trying.
I suspect that's all that matters at the moment, that I keep trying.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Syncronicity
Last night, Bear and his lovely took me to see the Mediaeval Baebes. We queued in the drizzle and wind for 20 mins before the Keepers of the Doors in Norwich Cathedral decided we'd been punished enough. Fortunately, Bear is a man of great foresight and may angels bless the steps he place upon this Earth - he brought hand warmers! There is nothing, nothing I tell you, so blissfull as being cold and wet and having a warm handwarmer shoved down your cleavage.
Mind you, blessings must go to the Stewards who served strong, hot mulled wine. Between the handwarmer and the mulled wine, I thawed out enough to really appreciate the Baebes. I've tried to convince You Tube to play their 'clubbed' version of Aria below. Hopefully, it'll play and you'll be able to enjoy it. They are really good fun. Even if they do take their dancing a little too seriously and their intro-patter is somewhat annoying. However, that said, they sound great and look fantastic.
This post is entitled 'syncronicity' which according to Wikipedia, the God of free information online, is about events which are not related to cause and effect, but which when looked at, have meaning.
Ten years ago, I was in post-relationship recovery. The relationship was a rebound from my marriage and it ended quite badly. I was growing closer to a group of people who would become the bedrock of my life. I went to see the Mediaeval Baebes promote their second album Worldes Blysse with someone who would become a friend and lover and at whose wedding I danced at earlier this year.
Ten years later, I am also in post-relationship recovery. It seems the last ten years have not been wasted. I make better decisions regarding men and although part of my relationship with the Viking has come to an end, our friendship has not. Briefly, we are at different stages in our lives, and when two people have different goals, and compromise is not an option, I took Sting's advice.
Mind you, blessings must go to the Stewards who served strong, hot mulled wine. Between the handwarmer and the mulled wine, I thawed out enough to really appreciate the Baebes. I've tried to convince You Tube to play their 'clubbed' version of Aria below. Hopefully, it'll play and you'll be able to enjoy it. They are really good fun. Even if they do take their dancing a little too seriously and their intro-patter is somewhat annoying. However, that said, they sound great and look fantastic.
This post is entitled 'syncronicity' which according to Wikipedia, the God of free information online, is about events which are not related to cause and effect, but which when looked at, have meaning.
Ten years ago, I was in post-relationship recovery. The relationship was a rebound from my marriage and it ended quite badly. I was growing closer to a group of people who would become the bedrock of my life. I went to see the Mediaeval Baebes promote their second album Worldes Blysse with someone who would become a friend and lover and at whose wedding I danced at earlier this year.
Ten years later, I am also in post-relationship recovery. It seems the last ten years have not been wasted. I make better decisions regarding men and although part of my relationship with the Viking has come to an end, our friendship has not. Briefly, we are at different stages in our lives, and when two people have different goals, and compromise is not an option, I took Sting's advice.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Decadent Day Off
Life here continues apace. My Counter Manager is away, sunning herself in foreign climes, drinking French wine, eating French food - and she didn't invite me along. Humpf. I'm working full-time for the PCH, which is tiring, but not as exhausting as doing 6 days on the trot as I have been doing lately, juggling two jobs.
I've decided I'm far too lazy for this type of economic activity. The time I spend working to pay the bills (after the second black bill, the one before the red, snotty one), I could be interferring with Boy's X-Box time; I could be drinking coffee, eating small pastries with Gee; I could be irritating Viking in the mornings making him get up and amuse me; I could be writing. Instead, I'm being fiscally responsible. Humpf.
This week pretty much everything that could go wrong electronically, did. My wonderful Nokia N73, of which I have had many a diatribe, its days are numbered. O2 said I could have an upgrade, which I nearly bit their online hands off. I elected to have a cheaper tariff, with a less snazzy phone in the hopes that the less there was to go wrong, the more likely it would work more. Which in theory was sound. New phone arrives. Does it work? Does it heck. Couldn't even switch the damn thing on. In the hopes it was just me being thick, I took it to an O2 store in town. A sales guy, who looked younger than Boy, deigned to stop talking to his girlfriend long enough to assertain my phone didn't work. I then had to ring O2 Customer Services to organise the swap. I thought I'd have to post the damn thing off and wait until they sent a new one out to me. There is a God, and She is good. Or perhaps the nice lady on the phone heard how fed up I was. They organised for a courier to come with the new phone and swap it for the faulty one. Of course, I was at work and they couldn't guarantee when the courier would come a-calling. Boy was home from school and was able to take delivery. So I now have a swanky new phone, one that actually works. How cool is that?
Unfortunately, my new CD alarm seems to be lazier than me. It starts playing a track and then decides it really can't be bothered. At all. It means I have to go back to Argos and bitch to some bored teenager to get it exchanged. Can I find the receipt? Can I heck as like! So, I'm now looking at my baskets where I dump my paperwork, to see if I can find a bank statement with the transaction, to show I paid for the damn thing. Do I want to do that today? I'm in my pink, fluffy dressing gown, enjoying my second cup of coffee (love you Hottie) and I'm loathe to leave my flat to head into town just for that. There are plans afoot to meet the gang in the Pub-Over-the-Wall and while I'm happy getting dressed for them (though to be fair, they wouldn't care if I turned up as I am), I really don't think the sacrifice of becoming presentable is worthy of Argos today.
I've decided I'm far too lazy for this type of economic activity. The time I spend working to pay the bills (after the second black bill, the one before the red, snotty one), I could be interferring with Boy's X-Box time; I could be drinking coffee, eating small pastries with Gee; I could be irritating Viking in the mornings making him get up and amuse me; I could be writing. Instead, I'm being fiscally responsible. Humpf.
This week pretty much everything that could go wrong electronically, did. My wonderful Nokia N73, of which I have had many a diatribe, its days are numbered. O2 said I could have an upgrade, which I nearly bit their online hands off. I elected to have a cheaper tariff, with a less snazzy phone in the hopes that the less there was to go wrong, the more likely it would work more. Which in theory was sound. New phone arrives. Does it work? Does it heck. Couldn't even switch the damn thing on. In the hopes it was just me being thick, I took it to an O2 store in town. A sales guy, who looked younger than Boy, deigned to stop talking to his girlfriend long enough to assertain my phone didn't work. I then had to ring O2 Customer Services to organise the swap. I thought I'd have to post the damn thing off and wait until they sent a new one out to me. There is a God, and She is good. Or perhaps the nice lady on the phone heard how fed up I was. They organised for a courier to come with the new phone and swap it for the faulty one. Of course, I was at work and they couldn't guarantee when the courier would come a-calling. Boy was home from school and was able to take delivery. So I now have a swanky new phone, one that actually works. How cool is that?
Unfortunately, my new CD alarm seems to be lazier than me. It starts playing a track and then decides it really can't be bothered. At all. It means I have to go back to Argos and bitch to some bored teenager to get it exchanged. Can I find the receipt? Can I heck as like! So, I'm now looking at my baskets where I dump my paperwork, to see if I can find a bank statement with the transaction, to show I paid for the damn thing. Do I want to do that today? I'm in my pink, fluffy dressing gown, enjoying my second cup of coffee (love you Hottie) and I'm loathe to leave my flat to head into town just for that. There are plans afoot to meet the gang in the Pub-Over-the-Wall and while I'm happy getting dressed for them (though to be fair, they wouldn't care if I turned up as I am), I really don't think the sacrifice of becoming presentable is worthy of Argos today.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Treacle Day
Today is my day off, I just wish I had the energy to enjoy it. Everything aches including my head and I feel...well the best I can say is Bleaugh! It's a technical medical term that I've gleaned from those medical blogs. Tasks that are fairly simple to do normally, seem to be taking ages. My brain is processing everything that much more slowly and I feel as if I'm drifting through treacle. Don't get me wrong, I'm not unhappy or feeling blue. I'm just not doing anything particularly quickly, efficiently or even promptly, which is fine I suppose as it's my day off.
The last few weeks my hayfever has been grim, but it seems to be settling down at the moment. I'll resist giving you a blow by blow account of my symptoms, I'm sure you don't need to hear about the itchy eyes, constant sneezing and general ick that goes with this time of year for me. Besides, it's hayfever. I'm not dying. It's just inconvenient.
The Council finally came and fixed my roof on Thursday. Of course it hasn't rained since then, which sums up my luck. But hey, it's done. My ceiling has an interesting look to it kind of sagging papier mache kind of look, but I can live with it. I can hang something to cleverly disguise it, or simply ignore it until I muster the enthusiasm for decorating my front room again, not likely to happen for a while yet.
I haven't managed to do anymore work on my writing project recently. I've been busy with work and trying to catch up with people and I'm feeling the lack. It's weird how itchy I become if I don't write. It's not so much a past-time, but an absolute necessity. The other plus about writing is that I tend to get loads of other stuff done if I think about my writing. For example, I'm supposed to be working on it now. In the time that I set aside to do my writing I've: upgraded my MS Office, I've emptied the fridge of all things mouldering, had a quick tidy round, done the bins, watered the plants, tidied my desk, done some admin. All of which needed to be done....days/weeks ago.
Last week I got a call from a friend of mine asking if I was able to do emergency reception/office work. I didn't like to say no. So, I've picked up 4 days work in the midst of my PCH work. I did one day Friday and will do the others next week. I must admit it is rather fun pottering around an office. It's really nice getting home and not feeling completely rung out. I knew I was tired from my normal work but I'd never quite appreciated how hard retail is on the legs. My counter manager is going away on holiday for two weeks, so I'll be going full time, which will be a complete killer. Office work 5 days a week is a doddle compared to retail that's for sure.
Just in case anyone's wondering: Hottie really is a Goddess! She gave me a fab pressie this week, which I have test driven today - a coffee machine! How cool is that? I bought some really nice, proper coffee and my cup this afternoon was heavenly. Unfortunately, I'm suffering from caffiene overload, but oh, it was yummy. I'm really looking forward to my morning cup tomorrow. Boy even commented on how nice the flat smelt with it going. I just need to get the ratio of ground coffee to water right. I'm not normally a huge fan of kitchen gadgets, but this coffee machine seems to be built for ease of use and convience.
Anyway, I'd better slope off. I'm in the midst of making burgers for Boy and me and there are a hundred and one things that I really should be doing...
The last few weeks my hayfever has been grim, but it seems to be settling down at the moment. I'll resist giving you a blow by blow account of my symptoms, I'm sure you don't need to hear about the itchy eyes, constant sneezing and general ick that goes with this time of year for me. Besides, it's hayfever. I'm not dying. It's just inconvenient.
The Council finally came and fixed my roof on Thursday. Of course it hasn't rained since then, which sums up my luck. But hey, it's done. My ceiling has an interesting look to it kind of sagging papier mache kind of look, but I can live with it. I can hang something to cleverly disguise it, or simply ignore it until I muster the enthusiasm for decorating my front room again, not likely to happen for a while yet.
I haven't managed to do anymore work on my writing project recently. I've been busy with work and trying to catch up with people and I'm feeling the lack. It's weird how itchy I become if I don't write. It's not so much a past-time, but an absolute necessity. The other plus about writing is that I tend to get loads of other stuff done if I think about my writing. For example, I'm supposed to be working on it now. In the time that I set aside to do my writing I've: upgraded my MS Office, I've emptied the fridge of all things mouldering, had a quick tidy round, done the bins, watered the plants, tidied my desk, done some admin. All of which needed to be done....days/weeks ago.
Last week I got a call from a friend of mine asking if I was able to do emergency reception/office work. I didn't like to say no. So, I've picked up 4 days work in the midst of my PCH work. I did one day Friday and will do the others next week. I must admit it is rather fun pottering around an office. It's really nice getting home and not feeling completely rung out. I knew I was tired from my normal work but I'd never quite appreciated how hard retail is on the legs. My counter manager is going away on holiday for two weeks, so I'll be going full time, which will be a complete killer. Office work 5 days a week is a doddle compared to retail that's for sure.
Just in case anyone's wondering: Hottie really is a Goddess! She gave me a fab pressie this week, which I have test driven today - a coffee machine! How cool is that? I bought some really nice, proper coffee and my cup this afternoon was heavenly. Unfortunately, I'm suffering from caffiene overload, but oh, it was yummy. I'm really looking forward to my morning cup tomorrow. Boy even commented on how nice the flat smelt with it going. I just need to get the ratio of ground coffee to water right. I'm not normally a huge fan of kitchen gadgets, but this coffee machine seems to be built for ease of use and convience.
Anyway, I'd better slope off. I'm in the midst of making burgers for Boy and me and there are a hundred and one things that I really should be doing...
Monday, June 09, 2008
Iron Resolve...
of a rubber band. Last week I promised myself that I would do things differently. So I indulged in several takeaways, did no exercise and had a yummy chicken BBQ burger yesterday. Says it all really.
However, I might have slipped in that resolve, but I'm writing again. Thanks to a point in the right direction from Gee, I've actually got a writing project on the way. In the last 10 days, I've worked out my plot structure and have started fleshing out the protagionist. I spent most of Friday afternoon creating a form to act as a Character Template. It's going to be a long and drawn out process, but at least I've started and I know where I'm going and how I'm going to get there.
The biggest bugbear at the moment is my roof. I've got a soggy patch in my front room and it's got soggier every time it's rained and of course it's been raining quite a bit recently. Although I own my flat, the Council own the bricks and mortar, which means that they've got to come and put it right. Thanks to the computer going down and various other dramas they've yet to turn up. The next few days are supposed to be dry thank goodness, I'm just hoping they'll turn up before it starts to pour again. *sigh*
Right, I'm going to put the kettle on, have something to eat and dust my desk. I should be writing you see.
However, I might have slipped in that resolve, but I'm writing again. Thanks to a point in the right direction from Gee, I've actually got a writing project on the way. In the last 10 days, I've worked out my plot structure and have started fleshing out the protagionist. I spent most of Friday afternoon creating a form to act as a Character Template. It's going to be a long and drawn out process, but at least I've started and I know where I'm going and how I'm going to get there.
The biggest bugbear at the moment is my roof. I've got a soggy patch in my front room and it's got soggier every time it's rained and of course it's been raining quite a bit recently. Although I own my flat, the Council own the bricks and mortar, which means that they've got to come and put it right. Thanks to the computer going down and various other dramas they've yet to turn up. The next few days are supposed to be dry thank goodness, I'm just hoping they'll turn up before it starts to pour again. *sigh*
Right, I'm going to put the kettle on, have something to eat and dust my desk. I should be writing you see.
Friday, May 09, 2008
Friday Nite In
This week is Summer and I have been flashing my bronzed legs. The flat's windows and front door are wide open letting the cooling evening breeze take out the fusty air that's built up during the day while I was at work and Boy at school.
Boy has survived his SATs and has reluctantly agreed that maybe the revision I nagged him into doing helped a bit. As I type he's happily killing the bad guys on the XBox. He looks a touch tired, but is otherwise unscathed.
As for myself, I'm not sure where the week went. Actually, that's not true. I know exactly where it went. I just haven't caught up with myself yet. I had four days of training in London, a night in my own bed then it was back down to London for a Hen-Do. Viking's eldest brother is tying the knot and I got invited to his fiancee's Do. It was a sucessful weekend, if a lot of hard work. Network Rail decided to do loads of engineering works, so what should have been less than a 2 hour journey down, became a 3 1/2 hour journing. The organiser of said Do, arranged for me to share with a woman who was lovely enough to book a twin room. When I got to the hotel I realised I'd forgotten the e-mail with the booking details in Norwich. I rocked up to this posh, 4 **** hotel, marble lobby, brass fittings, I thought 'oh dear'. The very nice receptionist couldn't find me or my room-mate on her system. She called her manager who also looked and couldn't find us. To cut a long story short, because my roomy was still at home while I was trying to book, she was able to send a copy of her confirmation e-mail to the Duty Manager (a very dishy Australian). He then organised a twin room in their sister hotel, The Westbury for the original price. They also paid for the cab to take me from them, to there.
Now, you have to understand that my half of the room was £60. One of the first questions my room-mate asked me was whether the hotel was a dive. It was most certainly not. I was feeling scruffy enough as it was. I had a scruffy cardigan, battered and none-to-clean jeans, knackered trainers, Lumpy and my back-pack. In all likelihood I would have just been allowed into a hostel. During the journey across to The Westbury, the cabbie asked whether I had posher clothes to change into - did I have time to go shopping. When I'm all grown up and have a proper income, I want to do London from The Westbury. The staff were starched, proper and very kind. Nothing was too much trouble. I was helped from my cab, Lumpy taken off me to be delivered to my room shortly, I was shown to Reception, shown to the lift. The room, or should I say rooms, were stunning. It was an Olde Worlde feel with the latest technology. There was a dressing room, complete with a walnut dressing table, polished within an inch of it's life. I want that bathroom, marble and white tile, white cotton bathrobes and a towel warmer.
I did scrub up good for the Hen-Do and had a brilliant time in good restaurants with great company. We went clubbing in a basement club that was concentrating on 50s-60s rock'n'roll. Elvis without the tassles, Duke Ellington etc. Thankfully there was not a pink cowboy hat, handcuffs or an L-plate to be seen. I gave up about 2am and got back to my blissfull room.
My bed. What can I say about my bed? Yes, it was a single, but with a touch more room than a normal single. The bed was so comfortable it was like sleeping in a hug. The duvet and pillows were feather, but I didn't have any problems with allergies at all. It was only the realisation that I'd forgotten to ask what time breakfast finished and when we had to vacate the room, that actually got me out of bed by 10.00. I just didn't want to risk having to pay full price for the room (that would have set me back £175) for the Sunday.
It was just as well I had a good time Saturday night, the journey back was horrendous. Fortunately, I had a Viking meet me at the Norwich station which soothed and eased my very tired, ruffled feathers.
Boy has survived his SATs and has reluctantly agreed that maybe the revision I nagged him into doing helped a bit. As I type he's happily killing the bad guys on the XBox. He looks a touch tired, but is otherwise unscathed.
As for myself, I'm not sure where the week went. Actually, that's not true. I know exactly where it went. I just haven't caught up with myself yet. I had four days of training in London, a night in my own bed then it was back down to London for a Hen-Do. Viking's eldest brother is tying the knot and I got invited to his fiancee's Do. It was a sucessful weekend, if a lot of hard work. Network Rail decided to do loads of engineering works, so what should have been less than a 2 hour journey down, became a 3 1/2 hour journing. The organiser of said Do, arranged for me to share with a woman who was lovely enough to book a twin room. When I got to the hotel I realised I'd forgotten the e-mail with the booking details in Norwich. I rocked up to this posh, 4 **** hotel, marble lobby, brass fittings, I thought 'oh dear'. The very nice receptionist couldn't find me or my room-mate on her system. She called her manager who also looked and couldn't find us. To cut a long story short, because my roomy was still at home while I was trying to book, she was able to send a copy of her confirmation e-mail to the Duty Manager (a very dishy Australian). He then organised a twin room in their sister hotel, The Westbury for the original price. They also paid for the cab to take me from them, to there.
Now, you have to understand that my half of the room was £60. One of the first questions my room-mate asked me was whether the hotel was a dive. It was most certainly not. I was feeling scruffy enough as it was. I had a scruffy cardigan, battered and none-to-clean jeans, knackered trainers, Lumpy and my back-pack. In all likelihood I would have just been allowed into a hostel. During the journey across to The Westbury, the cabbie asked whether I had posher clothes to change into - did I have time to go shopping. When I'm all grown up and have a proper income, I want to do London from The Westbury. The staff were starched, proper and very kind. Nothing was too much trouble. I was helped from my cab, Lumpy taken off me to be delivered to my room shortly, I was shown to Reception, shown to the lift. The room, or should I say rooms, were stunning. It was an Olde Worlde feel with the latest technology. There was a dressing room, complete with a walnut dressing table, polished within an inch of it's life. I want that bathroom, marble and white tile, white cotton bathrobes and a towel warmer.
I did scrub up good for the Hen-Do and had a brilliant time in good restaurants with great company. We went clubbing in a basement club that was concentrating on 50s-60s rock'n'roll. Elvis without the tassles, Duke Ellington etc. Thankfully there was not a pink cowboy hat, handcuffs or an L-plate to be seen. I gave up about 2am and got back to my blissfull room.
My bed. What can I say about my bed? Yes, it was a single, but with a touch more room than a normal single. The bed was so comfortable it was like sleeping in a hug. The duvet and pillows were feather, but I didn't have any problems with allergies at all. It was only the realisation that I'd forgotten to ask what time breakfast finished and when we had to vacate the room, that actually got me out of bed by 10.00. I just didn't want to risk having to pay full price for the room (that would have set me back £175) for the Sunday.
It was just as well I had a good time Saturday night, the journey back was horrendous. Fortunately, I had a Viking meet me at the Norwich station which soothed and eased my very tired, ruffled feathers.
Saturday, May 03, 2008
Slipping Away
I find it difficult to believe that 2 weeks ago I was at work, looking forward to my two weeks off. Don't ask me where the time has gone, because I sure as hell don't know.
My weeks' holiday was spent pretty much on my sofa catching up with a huge pile of reading. I finally got round to reading Virgin Suicides after much nagging from The Viking. Yes, it was very well written, and I did like the clever bits he did with the retrospective multiple narrator. Would I pick it up again in a hurry? No, not really. I did feel it was so incredibly sad.
I also spent most of my time nagging Boy. He starts his SATs next week. After much lecturing he sat down to revise. I was somewhat surprised that his teachers had not gone through revision or exam tactics with him. So I invested in some revision guides and went through the basics of revision. I am trying not to nag him about the revision. If he wants to be a vet, then he's going to have to work bloody hard. If he doesn't put in the work, then he'll have to think of something else. Me nagging him, isn't going to help. I keep telling myself that. Hasn't been working though. But I keep trying.
The Viking and his dad came visiting on their way back from Sweden last weekend. On Saturday morning we ambled into town and I became a bit concerned about Dad. He looked a touch confused and seemed to be struggling a bit. When we finally found a free table in a cafe, he admitted that he didn't feel up to the walk home. My alarm bells went off. This is a man who runs marathons, flies gliders and is building a conservatory from scratch. The Viking and Boy went home to get the car, I rang my surgery and got an automated message advising me to ring NHS Direct. I didn't particularly want to take him to A & E without a bloody good reason, but I did not want to wait for the Call Back from NHS Direct. Then I remembered, we've got a Walk-In Centre. I strongly advised that course of action to Viking and Dad and they agreed it would be a good idea for him to be checked out there. We didn't wait very long in the waiting room before Dad came back clutching a large brown envelope saying A & E.
I've not been to the A & E in the new hospital, so that was a bit of an experience. The staff were brilliant, got him into a cubicle and hooked up to the ECG pdq. And there we stayed. I didn't think to check my watch and see if we made the 4 hour deadline. But to cut a long and stressful story short, they wanted to keep him in for observation and to do more blood tests. So he went up to the ward and we went off to pack a bag for him and to get something to eat. That's when the fun and games started. When we got there, they'd moved him to another ward and it was on visitor lock-down, thanks to the Norovirus. We weren't supposed to visit him at all. Thankfully, the staff let us take him his bag and settle him in properly. He'd made friends with the other gentlemen on the ward, who of a similar age and when we left they were having a lively debate about the football results (Championship - will Hull go up and Premiership). The staff weren't sure that they discharge him on Sunday, the doctor's were considering doing more tests. Since I had to be in London during the week and The Viking had to be back at work, leaving Dad in a strange city by himself, we were hoping he'd be well enough to go home again.
This is a happy ending. Dad is back home oop North and according to the Viking is back to normal. It's funny, but at throughout it all I had the comforting presence of Mousie and Tom in the back of my mind. I knew that Dad would get the best of care. And he did.
My week in London was packed as I was trained to be Super Orange Woman. I now have had the basic product training so when I get back on counter no longer will I have to look to my Counter Manager to fill in the gaps. I'll have further training in the selling techniques to show me the best way to part women from their hard-earned cash. It hasn't really changed how I view the PCH, or their products. What was a bit shocking was the basic science behind the skin and how it ages - and the damage caused by the sun and sunbeds.
Of everything I've learnt this week, that has been had the greatest impact. I'm sure I've said that every now and then I've gone along and had a quick blast on a sunbed, to warm up and get a touch of colour in my skin. I'm by no means brown, it just keeps me from looking like a ghost or a vampire-wannabe. What I didn't realise is that the damage doesn't appear straight away, it takes about 20-30 years for it to work it's way up to the surface of the skin. It's scary. Really scary. I'm going invest in several bottles of self-tan - which in a way is just as scary as melanoma. I'm turning into Super Orange Woman!
My weeks' holiday was spent pretty much on my sofa catching up with a huge pile of reading. I finally got round to reading Virgin Suicides after much nagging from The Viking. Yes, it was very well written, and I did like the clever bits he did with the retrospective multiple narrator. Would I pick it up again in a hurry? No, not really. I did feel it was so incredibly sad.
I also spent most of my time nagging Boy. He starts his SATs next week. After much lecturing he sat down to revise. I was somewhat surprised that his teachers had not gone through revision or exam tactics with him. So I invested in some revision guides and went through the basics of revision. I am trying not to nag him about the revision. If he wants to be a vet, then he's going to have to work bloody hard. If he doesn't put in the work, then he'll have to think of something else. Me nagging him, isn't going to help. I keep telling myself that. Hasn't been working though. But I keep trying.
The Viking and his dad came visiting on their way back from Sweden last weekend. On Saturday morning we ambled into town and I became a bit concerned about Dad. He looked a touch confused and seemed to be struggling a bit. When we finally found a free table in a cafe, he admitted that he didn't feel up to the walk home. My alarm bells went off. This is a man who runs marathons, flies gliders and is building a conservatory from scratch. The Viking and Boy went home to get the car, I rang my surgery and got an automated message advising me to ring NHS Direct. I didn't particularly want to take him to A & E without a bloody good reason, but I did not want to wait for the Call Back from NHS Direct. Then I remembered, we've got a Walk-In Centre. I strongly advised that course of action to Viking and Dad and they agreed it would be a good idea for him to be checked out there. We didn't wait very long in the waiting room before Dad came back clutching a large brown envelope saying A & E.
I've not been to the A & E in the new hospital, so that was a bit of an experience. The staff were brilliant, got him into a cubicle and hooked up to the ECG pdq. And there we stayed. I didn't think to check my watch and see if we made the 4 hour deadline. But to cut a long and stressful story short, they wanted to keep him in for observation and to do more blood tests. So he went up to the ward and we went off to pack a bag for him and to get something to eat. That's when the fun and games started. When we got there, they'd moved him to another ward and it was on visitor lock-down, thanks to the Norovirus. We weren't supposed to visit him at all. Thankfully, the staff let us take him his bag and settle him in properly. He'd made friends with the other gentlemen on the ward, who of a similar age and when we left they were having a lively debate about the football results (Championship - will Hull go up and Premiership). The staff weren't sure that they discharge him on Sunday, the doctor's were considering doing more tests. Since I had to be in London during the week and The Viking had to be back at work, leaving Dad in a strange city by himself, we were hoping he'd be well enough to go home again.
This is a happy ending. Dad is back home oop North and according to the Viking is back to normal. It's funny, but at throughout it all I had the comforting presence of Mousie and Tom in the back of my mind. I knew that Dad would get the best of care. And he did.
My week in London was packed as I was trained to be Super Orange Woman. I now have had the basic product training so when I get back on counter no longer will I have to look to my Counter Manager to fill in the gaps. I'll have further training in the selling techniques to show me the best way to part women from their hard-earned cash. It hasn't really changed how I view the PCH, or their products. What was a bit shocking was the basic science behind the skin and how it ages - and the damage caused by the sun and sunbeds.
Of everything I've learnt this week, that has been had the greatest impact. I'm sure I've said that every now and then I've gone along and had a quick blast on a sunbed, to warm up and get a touch of colour in my skin. I'm by no means brown, it just keeps me from looking like a ghost or a vampire-wannabe. What I didn't realise is that the damage doesn't appear straight away, it takes about 20-30 years for it to work it's way up to the surface of the skin. It's scary. Really scary. I'm going invest in several bottles of self-tan - which in a way is just as scary as melanoma. I'm turning into Super Orange Woman!
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
I'm Still Standing
I haven't forgotten you, I've just been a touch busy. I've been finishing up my Spring Clean, which still has Boy shaking me, demanding to know where his mum is and my friends asking subtle questions about my contraceptive use. I've also been getting to grips with my new job.
Many thanks must go to my Viking who took a huge bag of clothing to the charity shop for me. I'm pretty much done now, just got odd bits and pieces to do. My home doesn't look hugely different. I've got the new rugs and planters from IKEA, new potted plants (still living), my desk has boxes on it rather than random piles of paper and when you open the drawer there are more boxes with my shit neatly stuffed inside. I'm almost on top of my admin and have a neat list of arses to kick. My council for forgetting I'm a single-parent, my utilities company - for charging me a fortune for my electricity. I'm still not quite able to make sure we eat a sensible meal and doing a pack-up seems like climbing Mount Everest, but I suppose we're not suffering from rickets yet, so it's not all bad.
I know this housekeeping stuff must seem boring to you who reads my blogs waiting for the next installment of Retail Hell, but it's been a long time coming. I haven't had the inclination or the energy; now I've done it, I feel a real sense of accomplishment of making my flat, my home. It no longer feels like we've had to move back after a disaster. Home. Where the Cat is, where the Boy kills things on the XBox, where the Viking comes to visit to drink tea and make us laugh.
The job at the PCH is still a bit of a blur. I'm still working with the independent department store, a mere three feet from the perfumery department, so things haven't changed that much. I'm getting to know the other cosmetic house girls (the competition) a little better, they give me tips and hints. They've asked me how I feel about the move. To be honest, I'm not sure.
I get to try out loads of make-up and cosmetics, which I'm a totally loving. I get to chat to women, try to get them to spoil themselves a little. I'm learning where things go in the counter, and the paperwork that has to be done in the beginning of the day. I've been putting little bits of make-up on women which I found nerve wracking today, but I stuck with it. My boss is on holiday this week, so in actual fact I've only really had one complete day with her. The rest of the time, I've been on my own. I don't think I've done too badly. The products are absolutely stunning. I've finally got my moisturiser and it is just gorgeous, I'm going to have to keep working for them, just so I can keep myself in creams, lotions and potions. Selling the products is a bit more of an art, I'm learning when to ask open questions, when to ask closed ones. I've also got to get my head around the products and the science behind them. I've been trying out the different mascaras, foundations and eye-liners, with varying results. I do know I really love being a girlie, though I wish I could wear stylish footwear for work. I just can't wear the shoes the other girls do, my feet just can't cope with shoes that aren't sensible.
Anyway, this is just to let you know where I'm at. Nothing terribly exciting going on really. Just trying to find my centre and learning to live well.
Many thanks must go to my Viking who took a huge bag of clothing to the charity shop for me. I'm pretty much done now, just got odd bits and pieces to do. My home doesn't look hugely different. I've got the new rugs and planters from IKEA, new potted plants (still living), my desk has boxes on it rather than random piles of paper and when you open the drawer there are more boxes with my shit neatly stuffed inside. I'm almost on top of my admin and have a neat list of arses to kick. My council for forgetting I'm a single-parent, my utilities company - for charging me a fortune for my electricity. I'm still not quite able to make sure we eat a sensible meal and doing a pack-up seems like climbing Mount Everest, but I suppose we're not suffering from rickets yet, so it's not all bad.
I know this housekeeping stuff must seem boring to you who reads my blogs waiting for the next installment of Retail Hell, but it's been a long time coming. I haven't had the inclination or the energy; now I've done it, I feel a real sense of accomplishment of making my flat, my home. It no longer feels like we've had to move back after a disaster. Home. Where the Cat is, where the Boy kills things on the XBox, where the Viking comes to visit to drink tea and make us laugh.
The job at the PCH is still a bit of a blur. I'm still working with the independent department store, a mere three feet from the perfumery department, so things haven't changed that much. I'm getting to know the other cosmetic house girls (the competition) a little better, they give me tips and hints. They've asked me how I feel about the move. To be honest, I'm not sure.
I get to try out loads of make-up and cosmetics, which I'm a totally loving. I get to chat to women, try to get them to spoil themselves a little. I'm learning where things go in the counter, and the paperwork that has to be done in the beginning of the day. I've been putting little bits of make-up on women which I found nerve wracking today, but I stuck with it. My boss is on holiday this week, so in actual fact I've only really had one complete day with her. The rest of the time, I've been on my own. I don't think I've done too badly. The products are absolutely stunning. I've finally got my moisturiser and it is just gorgeous, I'm going to have to keep working for them, just so I can keep myself in creams, lotions and potions. Selling the products is a bit more of an art, I'm learning when to ask open questions, when to ask closed ones. I've also got to get my head around the products and the science behind them. I've been trying out the different mascaras, foundations and eye-liners, with varying results. I do know I really love being a girlie, though I wish I could wear stylish footwear for work. I just can't wear the shoes the other girls do, my feet just can't cope with shoes that aren't sensible.
Anyway, this is just to let you know where I'm at. Nothing terribly exciting going on really. Just trying to find my centre and learning to live well.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Still Standing
It's a funny thing hitting rock bottom, once you get there it's quite comfortable and warm. There are no more expectations, no targets, nothing can be achieved so there's no point worrying. In this space it's possible to breathe.
Then stuff starts to happen, to fall into place. Things that I was struggling to do, got done with minimum of fuss and exertion. My energy levels are still rubbish, I still feel really tired, but not so ground down.
We're getting more busy at work as we gear up for the Christmas rush. Unfortunately, thanks to interest rates, housing prices, Northern Rock and the pending apocalypse, we just aren't busy enough. The New Management are pushing targets, targets, targets, but it's difficult to sell to people who aren't there. The people who do wander in are being crafty shoppers and are making price comparisons. How can an independent department store can compete in prices with the likes of Boots, Savers and Superdrug? We've got several offers on at the moment, but I'm not convinced it'll be enough.
Anyway, for those of you thinking of buying fragrance for loved ones this Christmas, look out for gift sets. They work out very good value for money, for £2 or £3 extra, there's usually a body product as well as the perfume in a flashy presentation box. And if you buy your fragrance from me, I'll even gift wrap it for you.
Then stuff starts to happen, to fall into place. Things that I was struggling to do, got done with minimum of fuss and exertion. My energy levels are still rubbish, I still feel really tired, but not so ground down.
We're getting more busy at work as we gear up for the Christmas rush. Unfortunately, thanks to interest rates, housing prices, Northern Rock and the pending apocalypse, we just aren't busy enough. The New Management are pushing targets, targets, targets, but it's difficult to sell to people who aren't there. The people who do wander in are being crafty shoppers and are making price comparisons. How can an independent department store can compete in prices with the likes of Boots, Savers and Superdrug? We've got several offers on at the moment, but I'm not convinced it'll be enough.
Anyway, for those of you thinking of buying fragrance for loved ones this Christmas, look out for gift sets. They work out very good value for money, for £2 or £3 extra, there's usually a body product as well as the perfume in a flashy presentation box. And if you buy your fragrance from me, I'll even gift wrap it for you.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Stayin Alive
No, I haven't dropped off the edge of the world. I've been doing a 4 day stint per week and it's killing me; even if it is fun and highly entertaining. I've basically ignored my kitchen and laundry for two weeks. When I finish my 4 days this week, I have another 4 days next week and then I'll be starting my proper, regular employment as well as college. Coupled with low energy levels since I came back from Trinidad, life has felt a bit like hard work recently.
I'm also a bit nervous about the MA. Not quite sure why, I obviously wasn't worrying about it when I was filling in the application form. I'm just worrying about it now. I'm hoping I will like the people on the course with me. I'm hoping even more that they will be the sort of people who are interested, engaged and prepared to invest their energy. See, I am an optimist.
I've also found my social skills are being challenged somewhat of late; bearing in mind that basically, I have none. I'm blunt and straight to the point. I despise game playing and social fannying about. If someone has a problem with me, I'd rather they say so to my face rather than whinge about the situation behind my back. It seems that because I'm working in a department store and easily accessible people think they can sound off on their personal lives. Which is a bit off-pissing when they then get stroppy with me because I'm only interested in the social niceties. This has happened to me twice, the second time yesterday, when an innocent enquiry after wife and children led to the history of his drinking problem and the fact he's back living with his parents, and how come I didn't know that and had to ask difficult questions?
Perhaps I should start going to their place of work and off-loading my personal life? See how they like that. Next time I won't bother to ask 'how are you?', maybe I'll just say 'hi' and leave it at that.
I will just share this with you. This happened to me Saturday and even if I sat at my PC for two days straight with a bottle of red, I would have never believed that it could happen.
I get into work (on time) at 9.30. I move over to the men's section to straighten up and just check that all is well with testers etc. I try to begin my working day checking out the stock because there are so many new lines coming in at the moment, things get moved around, squished about and I need to know where things are for when the customers ask. It also means I can do my own thing and look busy while being fairly unsociable and brain dead first thing.
9.45 an elderly gentleman walks towards me and asks my assistance. He was tall, dressed in a green tweed jacket, white polo neck jumper and a cane. The hair on his head had obviously slipped down to cover the front of his face. In other words he was very attractive - not. He wanted to try the whole range of Bulgari fragrances, he had a sample given to him earlier in the week, which he left at home. Very useful, especially since he can't remember the name of the fragrance he liked and wanted to purchase. So we work our way through the line, me spraying the fragrance onto cardboard testing strips and handing them to him. Half way through the process he turns to me opens his jacket, flasher fashion and says:
"I put some under my armpits. Perhaps you could have a smell and see which fragrance it is."
Not being funny or anything, but I get paid minimum wage. That's £5.40 an hour to sell fragrances to joe bloggs. I am not paid enough to go sniffing some old geezer's armpits. If Jason Statham turned up with the same request, my response would be the same.
"I'm sorry, no. I won't."
As I was declining this dubious pleasure a flash of movement by his ear caught my eye. It was a small, black spider busily crawling it's way back up the side of his ear.
I wonder in which reality it's appropriate to ask shop floor staff to sniff your armpits? Because it sure as hell isn't appropriate in mine.
I'm also a bit nervous about the MA. Not quite sure why, I obviously wasn't worrying about it when I was filling in the application form. I'm just worrying about it now. I'm hoping I will like the people on the course with me. I'm hoping even more that they will be the sort of people who are interested, engaged and prepared to invest their energy. See, I am an optimist.
I've also found my social skills are being challenged somewhat of late; bearing in mind that basically, I have none. I'm blunt and straight to the point. I despise game playing and social fannying about. If someone has a problem with me, I'd rather they say so to my face rather than whinge about the situation behind my back. It seems that because I'm working in a department store and easily accessible people think they can sound off on their personal lives. Which is a bit off-pissing when they then get stroppy with me because I'm only interested in the social niceties. This has happened to me twice, the second time yesterday, when an innocent enquiry after wife and children led to the history of his drinking problem and the fact he's back living with his parents, and how come I didn't know that and had to ask difficult questions?
Perhaps I should start going to their place of work and off-loading my personal life? See how they like that. Next time I won't bother to ask 'how are you?', maybe I'll just say 'hi' and leave it at that.
I will just share this with you. This happened to me Saturday and even if I sat at my PC for two days straight with a bottle of red, I would have never believed that it could happen.
I get into work (on time) at 9.30. I move over to the men's section to straighten up and just check that all is well with testers etc. I try to begin my working day checking out the stock because there are so many new lines coming in at the moment, things get moved around, squished about and I need to know where things are for when the customers ask. It also means I can do my own thing and look busy while being fairly unsociable and brain dead first thing.
9.45 an elderly gentleman walks towards me and asks my assistance. He was tall, dressed in a green tweed jacket, white polo neck jumper and a cane. The hair on his head had obviously slipped down to cover the front of his face. In other words he was very attractive - not. He wanted to try the whole range of Bulgari fragrances, he had a sample given to him earlier in the week, which he left at home. Very useful, especially since he can't remember the name of the fragrance he liked and wanted to purchase. So we work our way through the line, me spraying the fragrance onto cardboard testing strips and handing them to him. Half way through the process he turns to me opens his jacket, flasher fashion and says:
"I put some under my armpits. Perhaps you could have a smell and see which fragrance it is."
Not being funny or anything, but I get paid minimum wage. That's £5.40 an hour to sell fragrances to joe bloggs. I am not paid enough to go sniffing some old geezer's armpits. If Jason Statham turned up with the same request, my response would be the same.
"I'm sorry, no. I won't."
As I was declining this dubious pleasure a flash of movement by his ear caught my eye. It was a small, black spider busily crawling it's way back up the side of his ear.
I wonder in which reality it's appropriate to ask shop floor staff to sniff your armpits? Because it sure as hell isn't appropriate in mine.
Friday, July 20, 2007
Interesting Times
This is but a quick update. I'm in my pink, fluffy dressing gown drinking my coffee while keeping a beady eye on the clock. I've got to go into work in a moment.
Basically, I'm picking up extra work at the department store to try and sort out the deficit in my bank account caused by far too much make-up, shoes and the buying of dresses to attend weddings.
Speaking of which, tomorrow Alix gets married. An event which I'm really looking forward to. I've known her since she was 18 and now she's all grown up and getting ready to tie the knot. It'll be my Viking's first taste of a hand fasting (wedding vows for pagans) which will be interesting for him. Especially since in August, I'll be attending his cousin's wedding. It feels like we're 'official'. A strange feeling for me, I can tell you.
Gertie has headed back South, and bless her, I think she deserved a medal putting up with me and Boy. I'm still knackered from the end of the degree and not doing a huge amount of anything and Boy is still enjoying his new, X-Box game, Oblivion, so he's not exactly moving very far from the futon or being particularly dynamic.
Right, I'd better head off. I doubt I'll have time to blog tonight as my To Do list includes: DIY facial and manicure for tomorrow.
PS. I solved the dress crisis thanks to M&S. Yay!
Basically, I'm picking up extra work at the department store to try and sort out the deficit in my bank account caused by far too much make-up, shoes and the buying of dresses to attend weddings.
Speaking of which, tomorrow Alix gets married. An event which I'm really looking forward to. I've known her since she was 18 and now she's all grown up and getting ready to tie the knot. It'll be my Viking's first taste of a hand fasting (wedding vows for pagans) which will be interesting for him. Especially since in August, I'll be attending his cousin's wedding. It feels like we're 'official'. A strange feeling for me, I can tell you.
Gertie has headed back South, and bless her, I think she deserved a medal putting up with me and Boy. I'm still knackered from the end of the degree and not doing a huge amount of anything and Boy is still enjoying his new, X-Box game, Oblivion, so he's not exactly moving very far from the futon or being particularly dynamic.
Right, I'd better head off. I doubt I'll have time to blog tonight as my To Do list includes: DIY facial and manicure for tomorrow.
PS. I solved the dress crisis thanks to M&S. Yay!
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