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!
Saturday, May 03, 2008
Monday, April 21, 2008
Lottery Winner! WooHoo!
This arrived today! Lucky me. Especially since it's been years since I've bought a ticket.
***
The Uk National Online Lottery
P O Box 1010 Dublin,
11 GLower Dorset Street(Customer Services)
Ref: UK/9420X2/68Batch: 074/05/ZY36
We are pleased to inform you that your e-mail address has won the UK National Lottery. Therefore you have been approved for a lump sum payout ?,000,000.00 GBP) One Million Pounds in the Uk National Lottery program held on 17th of feb 2008) and released today 19th of feb 2008. The online cyber lotto draws was conducted from an exclusive list of 21,000 email addresses of individual and corporate bodies picked by an advanced automated random computer search from the internet, no ticketsweresold. After this automated computer ballot, your e-mail ID emerged as one of the winners in the 3rd category. You are therefore been approve to lump sum of ?,000,000.00 GBP).
To file and claim your winning, please contact our Fiduciary Agent for the processing of your winning particulars, with the following information's below To file for your claim, please contact our
********************************************
United Kingdom Lottery FiduciaryName:
JohnWood.Email:uk_claims009@yahoo.co.uk
********************************************
Provide him with the information below:
1.Full Name:
2.Full Address:
3.Status:
4.Occupation:
5.Age:
6.Sex:
7.Country:
8.Tel.Number:
9 Valid ID card
Yours faithfully,
Mrs. Stella Ellis.
Sweepstakes International Program.
Copyright ?1994-2008
The UK National Lottery Inc.All rights reserved.
***
The Uk National Online Lottery
P O Box 1010 Dublin,
11 GLower Dorset Street(Customer Services)
Ref: UK/9420X2/68Batch: 074/05/ZY36
We are pleased to inform you that your e-mail address has won the UK National Lottery. Therefore you have been approved for a lump sum payout ?,000,000.00 GBP) One Million Pounds in the Uk National Lottery program held on 17th of feb 2008) and released today 19th of feb 2008. The online cyber lotto draws was conducted from an exclusive list of 21,000 email addresses of individual and corporate bodies picked by an advanced automated random computer search from the internet, no ticketsweresold. After this automated computer ballot, your e-mail ID emerged as one of the winners in the 3rd category. You are therefore been approve to lump sum of ?,000,000.00 GBP).
To file and claim your winning, please contact our Fiduciary Agent for the processing of your winning particulars, with the following information's below To file for your claim, please contact our
********************************************
United Kingdom Lottery FiduciaryName:
JohnWood.Email:uk_claims009@yahoo.co.uk
********************************************
Provide him with the information below:
1.Full Name:
2.Full Address:
3.Status:
4.Occupation:
5.Age:
6.Sex:
7.Country:
8.Tel.Number:
9 Valid ID card
Yours faithfully,
Mrs. Stella Ellis.
Sweepstakes International Program.
Copyright ?1994-2008
The UK National Lottery Inc.All rights reserved.
The Stench of Success - HP and the Deathly Hollows
Last week, I took it upon myself to read the seventh and final installment of Harry Potter. It's been sat on my shelf, since I bought it. A guilty buy, spurred on by the hype of the release and peer pressure. I kept looking at it and have really not been able to face it. I'm not sure why I needed to read it last week, I just did. I picked it up and waded through it during the course of an evening.
If it were a report written for a developing country, I would say it was very successful; such reports are judged on their ability to kill local cockroaches when dropped from table height. As a work of fiction aimed for children and their parents, I have to say I was less impressed. Half-way through the first chapter I felt myself reaching for a red pen. I found myself wanting to annote my copy with: why is this here? Overwritten. Does not move the story forward. Show, don't tell. With a good editor, she could have had a much better read, using half the space. It's so disappointing. Rowling didn't know who she was writing for, which is a real shame. This confusion has led to her books becoming far more turgid reads from Goblet of Fire through to the Deathly Hallows.
The elements which made the books such good fun in the beginning, the sharp, witty writing have disappeared. I was left with the feeling that she was killing off people for the shock value, rather than to heighten the risk and realism. Realistically speaking, the wedding fiasco which took up far too many pages, was completely unnecessary. It didn't lead to us learning anything really new about the characters or move the story forward in an original or outstanding way. Yes, it did hint to a revelation about Dumbledore...but at what a cost.
The revelation about Snape at the end, which was by far the most interesting and enjoyable part of the whole bloody book, was over in a matter of pages. He died almost as a footnote. The thing which kept me wading through the book was Harry's discovery that Dumbledore was a mere human being was interesting, but I'd have loved to have seen more of Snape (and not just because Alan Rickman is a thinking woman's crumpet).
There. Got that off my chest.
I'm sure there will be people who will rightly say 'who are you to be critical of this successful writer?' and 'you're just jealous'. To you I say, success is not a good enough excuse for sloppy writing. I rest easy with the fact that I'm not going to be JK Rowling, earning however many millions per print run. I'm not sure I'd like to be. Her current court case over her rights over the Harry Potter empire is just crass and cringeworthy.
I think part of the reason Rowling's voice has changed so much since the Philosopher's Stone, is that she has grown into her craft. The true test of her success as an author will be what she writes next. Though, even if she writes a complete dud, she's amassed enough wealth to be comfortable for the rest of her life, for it not to matter one whit.
If it were a report written for a developing country, I would say it was very successful; such reports are judged on their ability to kill local cockroaches when dropped from table height. As a work of fiction aimed for children and their parents, I have to say I was less impressed. Half-way through the first chapter I felt myself reaching for a red pen. I found myself wanting to annote my copy with: why is this here? Overwritten. Does not move the story forward. Show, don't tell. With a good editor, she could have had a much better read, using half the space. It's so disappointing. Rowling didn't know who she was writing for, which is a real shame. This confusion has led to her books becoming far more turgid reads from Goblet of Fire through to the Deathly Hallows.
The elements which made the books such good fun in the beginning, the sharp, witty writing have disappeared. I was left with the feeling that she was killing off people for the shock value, rather than to heighten the risk and realism. Realistically speaking, the wedding fiasco which took up far too many pages, was completely unnecessary. It didn't lead to us learning anything really new about the characters or move the story forward in an original or outstanding way. Yes, it did hint to a revelation about Dumbledore...but at what a cost.
The revelation about Snape at the end, which was by far the most interesting and enjoyable part of the whole bloody book, was over in a matter of pages. He died almost as a footnote. The thing which kept me wading through the book was Harry's discovery that Dumbledore was a mere human being was interesting, but I'd have loved to have seen more of Snape (and not just because Alan Rickman is a thinking woman's crumpet).
There. Got that off my chest.
I'm sure there will be people who will rightly say 'who are you to be critical of this successful writer?' and 'you're just jealous'. To you I say, success is not a good enough excuse for sloppy writing. I rest easy with the fact that I'm not going to be JK Rowling, earning however many millions per print run. I'm not sure I'd like to be. Her current court case over her rights over the Harry Potter empire is just crass and cringeworthy.
I think part of the reason Rowling's voice has changed so much since the Philosopher's Stone, is that she has grown into her craft. The true test of her success as an author will be what she writes next. Though, even if she writes a complete dud, she's amassed enough wealth to be comfortable for the rest of her life, for it not to matter one whit.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Holiday ~ in a Madonna-stylie
Yep, what you read is true. I'm on holiday for a week. The big question is: what do I do with my time? I'm so flat broke that going away, even if Boy could have been excused from school, is out of the question. I have a list of things to do around the flat that starts: dust, hoover... You get the picture. There is also the other list of things I Ought To Do: read Virgin Suicides, Sophies World, writing, poetry, photography, as well as reading several academic books so my brain does not turn into Mush (oops, too late). Finding things to do has never been a problem for me, the problem tends to be that I sit in front of the computer and dither on-line for hours on end and suddenly, the day has passed and Boy is asking about dinner. I can waste time like a pro.
I think I'll pass the buck - it's up to you, my faithfull blog readers, to tell me what to do this week. Leave me a comment, I'll pick the one I do and then I'll blog about it and provide relevant evidence. I won't do anything silly, or obscene (unless I really, really want to), but I'm open to ideas.
Go on then, ideas on a postcard!
I think I'll pass the buck - it's up to you, my faithfull blog readers, to tell me what to do this week. Leave me a comment, I'll pick the one I do and then I'll blog about it and provide relevant evidence. I won't do anything silly, or obscene (unless I really, really want to), but I'm open to ideas.
Go on then, ideas on a postcard!
Friday, April 18, 2008
Friday Nite Out and About
A chance meeting with someone who I used to work with (when I was gainfully employed) has led to Friday nights out, good drink, good food, good female company. Which has been all very well and good, but I've had to work the Saturdays after. Mind you, I'm not exactly living it up; I'll be in bed well before midnight, I was fully dressed when I went out, I'm going to bed with the cat and the contents of my stomach are staying put.
Since I last posted, I've been working quite a few hours, I've wrenched my shoulder and been pottering around the house. The green things I've planted have in the main lived and are even thriving. I have managed to kill a couple plants, but I suspect that was just them, rather than me. In a warm spell Boy and I did some gardening, but I have no idea how the plants are doing because since then the weather has been crap. One Saturday started off sunny, went dark, chucked it down, it then turned to snow, sleet and hail and then we had a brilliantly clear sunset. I'm getting pretty fed-up of this global warming malarkey. People start recycling now, I need a decent Spring.
Next week I've got some time off. I shall be pottering round the flat, doing the jobs which have been somewhat neglected for awhile. I'm not sure I understand the point of dusting regularly. The more I dust and clean, the more I need to dust and clean. What's that about? It's quite irritating that. I've also planned to go dancing with Hottie, meditation with the Chant Ladies and birthday shenanigans on Friday with Josie (my Friday-night drinking lady).
I've been writing again. A poem on Tuesday and I'm beginning to work on a couple of ideas for possible plots. It's so good to feel creative again. The photos I've taken recently haven't been brilliant, but they're starting to get me in the swing of things again. I've also been working with my old course, providing feedback on the on-line forum for pieces of fiction. I think doing that, more than anything else, has spurred me to be creative again. I've missed it so much. I feel whole when I'm doing creative endeavours, empty when I just exist. It's really making me think about starting the MA again in October and how I'm going to afford it. One of the things that I'm coming to realise is that I have it in my power to find a way. It might not be an easy way, but I can and will do it.
Since I last posted, I've been working quite a few hours, I've wrenched my shoulder and been pottering around the house. The green things I've planted have in the main lived and are even thriving. I have managed to kill a couple plants, but I suspect that was just them, rather than me. In a warm spell Boy and I did some gardening, but I have no idea how the plants are doing because since then the weather has been crap. One Saturday started off sunny, went dark, chucked it down, it then turned to snow, sleet and hail and then we had a brilliantly clear sunset. I'm getting pretty fed-up of this global warming malarkey. People start recycling now, I need a decent Spring.
Next week I've got some time off. I shall be pottering round the flat, doing the jobs which have been somewhat neglected for awhile. I'm not sure I understand the point of dusting regularly. The more I dust and clean, the more I need to dust and clean. What's that about? It's quite irritating that. I've also planned to go dancing with Hottie, meditation with the Chant Ladies and birthday shenanigans on Friday with Josie (my Friday-night drinking lady).
I've been writing again. A poem on Tuesday and I'm beginning to work on a couple of ideas for possible plots. It's so good to feel creative again. The photos I've taken recently haven't been brilliant, but they're starting to get me in the swing of things again. I've also been working with my old course, providing feedback on the on-line forum for pieces of fiction. I think doing that, more than anything else, has spurred me to be creative again. I've missed it so much. I feel whole when I'm doing creative endeavours, empty when I just exist. It's really making me think about starting the MA again in October and how I'm going to afford it. One of the things that I'm coming to realise is that I have it in my power to find a way. It might not be an easy way, but I can and will do it.
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
S is for...
Today improved no end when I got home with Chinese. I took off my uniform, make-up and changed into my jammies and pink fluffy dressing gown. As I write this, I have an extra accessory. Her name is Carla and she is a Royal Python. She's a guest while Boy's dad is away for 2 weeks and has been hiding in her plastic cave, in the vivarium in Boy's room. She was brought out for 5 mins on Sunday and has been out for quite awhile tonight. Apparently, she is a bit of a nervous soul and can get stressed quite easily. She's draped across my shoulder trying to find her way down to the carpet to play with the cat. You've never seen a better example of feline unimpressedness this evening when Solitaire realised my lap was moving.
I don't mind snakes or frogs, but I'm not keen on tarantulas or scorpions. Ewww. I really don't like scorpions - nasty tempered creatures. The tarantulas we saw in Trinidad were far enough away for me not to worry about. There was one that had a silk tent in the corner of the roof of the veranda in Morro House, in the bush. She would sleep in her tent during the day; you could tell she was home by the silver tips of her front feet which would be peeking out her doorway. I never actually saw her leave her tent to go hunting in the evening. We would be swinging in the hammock, drinking the local beer, chatting, I'd glance up and her tent would be empty. Unfortunately, her diet did not include the local hornets called Jap Spaniards by the locals. These hornets seemed to seek Boy out. I can't remember a visit where he hasn't got stung. Bastard things. At least the tarantula lived and let us alone.
I don't mind snakes or frogs, but I'm not keen on tarantulas or scorpions. Ewww. I really don't like scorpions - nasty tempered creatures. The tarantulas we saw in Trinidad were far enough away for me not to worry about. There was one that had a silk tent in the corner of the roof of the veranda in Morro House, in the bush. She would sleep in her tent during the day; you could tell she was home by the silver tips of her front feet which would be peeking out her doorway. I never actually saw her leave her tent to go hunting in the evening. We would be swinging in the hammock, drinking the local beer, chatting, I'd glance up and her tent would be empty. Unfortunately, her diet did not include the local hornets called Jap Spaniards by the locals. These hornets seemed to seek Boy out. I can't remember a visit where he hasn't got stung. Bastard things. At least the tarantula lived and let us alone.
Carla is still a young snake and hasn't reached her full potential yet. I was surprised how cool to the touch her skin was; and she doesn't particularly like being stroked, or she didn't, the first time Boy plonked her on my lap. When she's shy, she pulls herself into a tight, ball of stress and it takes her a while to relax and sprawl out. But once she sprawls, she likes to have a nose around and can be quite determined once she wants to go in a particular direction. I've since put her back in her little cave because I got fed up of her using my left wrist as an anchor as she tried to go over my shoulder, the back of the chair and head for the floor. She's really got a good grip, but will let go if necessary.
It's funny trying to describe a snake in terms of a pet, because they don't show emotion the way that mammals do. I knew she thought I was ok because she didn't stay long in her stress ball and even when I got up and walked around, she was loosely draped. I realised that I'm so used to dealing with animals that have a greater level of interaction with with me, that dealing with a snake can be a bit disconcerting, I was constantly checking with Boy if I was 'doing it right'. He was busy killing things on-line and let me and her bond. I must admit, she's not bad company for a snake. At least she's not smelly.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Sun-shiney Day
Days like today, always worry me a bit; in the back of my mind, because I've had a really nice day off, the rest of the week will be shite.
For Boy and I had a lie-in, read we got up at 8 am, rather than 7. Gee came round for a cup of coffee and a natter, after we put the world to rights we agreed we'd go out to the new and re-vamped Cinema City to see Guillermo del Torro's The Orphanage in the evening. Boy and I then spent the next two hours trying to get across the city (by bus) to the Post Office's Sorting Office, to pick up a letter/parcel that the sender didn't pay enough postage. The people in the snazzy, new bus station sent us to the bus that kind of goes near where the Sorting Office is, after a leisurely walk. When we got on the bus to ask the kind driver to drop us off at the nearest stop, he shook his head and said 'you wanted the Number 11, but only goes every hour." He did drop us off at the right place and we did pick up the A4 letter, with no postage containing my contract with the PCH.
*sigh*
Boy and I then caught the Number 11 back to the city and walked to the Garden Centre on the Ring Road for a coke and some more plants. My plants are not only alive *gasp, shock*, they are actually doing really well, so I wanted some more. I did manage to control myself and not get a trolley and put in pansies, violets, bellis and three types of lavender. Instead, I got an ivy, a French tarragon, thyme and a small dill. I'm still thinking about getting some lilies, maybe even a few tomatoes, peppers and aubergine to put in a grow-bag. Not to mention the lovely orchids I saw.
Boy and I tend to play Eye-spy when we travel and are bored. I've noticed that when we do play, people in ear-shot start looking around and you can just see them itching to join in, but not being brave enough. Which is a shame, because it can be quite fun. We don't play by the rules, you can ask questions and get hints. I always ask 'is it clean?' Boy likes to be obscure.
The best of Eye-spy today was:
S for skin
C for clouds
R for rings
P for pavement
S for shops
D for dust
T for tickets
The Orphanage is a gothic tale (I knew this was so because of the creaky house and bad weather). I'm the wrong person to ask if it was scary because I spent a bit of time hiding under Gee's armpit. I have no tolerance for scary bits, no matter how obvious, cliched or over-done they might be - I still squeak and jump. It was beautifully shot, and the acting was good. However, it was a touch predictable and everything was well flagged and over-explained. I suspect del Torro would have found Pan's Labyrinth exceptionally difficult to follow and whatever he would have done, it would not have been able to match it in terms of beauty, horror and enchantment.
Tomorrow I go to work, so I'll let you know if my superstitions were justified.
For Boy and I had a lie-in, read we got up at 8 am, rather than 7. Gee came round for a cup of coffee and a natter, after we put the world to rights we agreed we'd go out to the new and re-vamped Cinema City to see Guillermo del Torro's The Orphanage in the evening. Boy and I then spent the next two hours trying to get across the city (by bus) to the Post Office's Sorting Office, to pick up a letter/parcel that the sender didn't pay enough postage. The people in the snazzy, new bus station sent us to the bus that kind of goes near where the Sorting Office is, after a leisurely walk. When we got on the bus to ask the kind driver to drop us off at the nearest stop, he shook his head and said 'you wanted the Number 11, but only goes every hour." He did drop us off at the right place and we did pick up the A4 letter, with no postage containing my contract with the PCH.
*sigh*
Boy and I then caught the Number 11 back to the city and walked to the Garden Centre on the Ring Road for a coke and some more plants. My plants are not only alive *gasp, shock*, they are actually doing really well, so I wanted some more. I did manage to control myself and not get a trolley and put in pansies, violets, bellis and three types of lavender. Instead, I got an ivy, a French tarragon, thyme and a small dill. I'm still thinking about getting some lilies, maybe even a few tomatoes, peppers and aubergine to put in a grow-bag. Not to mention the lovely orchids I saw.
Boy and I tend to play Eye-spy when we travel and are bored. I've noticed that when we do play, people in ear-shot start looking around and you can just see them itching to join in, but not being brave enough. Which is a shame, because it can be quite fun. We don't play by the rules, you can ask questions and get hints. I always ask 'is it clean?' Boy likes to be obscure.
The best of Eye-spy today was:
S for skin
C for clouds
R for rings
P for pavement
S for shops
D for dust
T for tickets
The Orphanage is a gothic tale (I knew this was so because of the creaky house and bad weather). I'm the wrong person to ask if it was scary because I spent a bit of time hiding under Gee's armpit. I have no tolerance for scary bits, no matter how obvious, cliched or over-done they might be - I still squeak and jump. It was beautifully shot, and the acting was good. However, it was a touch predictable and everything was well flagged and over-explained. I suspect del Torro would have found Pan's Labyrinth exceptionally difficult to follow and whatever he would have done, it would not have been able to match it in terms of beauty, horror and enchantment.
Tomorrow I go to work, so I'll let you know if my superstitions were justified.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Yes Prime Minister Clip - Who Reads the Papers
There has never been a better political satire than this. Many thanks to cogidubnus for sending it my way. It's fabulous.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Alright Now
Hi, it's me. I had a really good self-pity session, complete with a bottle of lovely red wine and Love Actually. I cried through all of the soppy bits, staggered off to bed and woke up to the sound of my Viking lugging his bags in. He just finished a night-shift and drove straight down to see me. Bless him. I made him coffee, gave him biscuits and tucked him up in bed. An eleven-hour shift through the night does tend to take it out of him. I was fine emotionally. I'd obviously just needed to get it off my chest. Unfortunately, it took me until well past mid-day to stop feeling fragile courtesy of the red wine.
Today, I've been in Cambridge for my first ever product briefing. The PCH is about to launch this dead-exciting anti-wrinkle cream and we were given pots of that and the eye cream - I'll let you know how well they work in due course. We also were given details of the product launches for the next 3 months. It's all terribly exciting really. Lots of bright, retro colours to go with our impressive range of summer products and sun care. I'm going to have lots of fun trying out these different looks. Though I'm not convinced by the lime-green lip gloss or bright orange nail polish.
I am such a freebee tart. I was practically jumping up and down when we went into the room and there on our places were the boxes of moisturiser and eyecream. We also got given this fab goodie bag crammed full of stuff. I can't wait to try it all out. I know it's terribly shallow, but I just can't help myself.
I was so nervous today, I had to go to the training by myself and I didn't know anyone else there. I met up with some of the girls from PCHs in other stores. They were so sweet, they made me feel so welcome and not at all out of place. We chatted all the way there and back on the train, they were such a laugh. I am still amazed by the women who work in the cosmetics industry. Having been assassinated several times by women in offices and their office politics, I am still a bit wary of working with women. But these ladies are not only glamorous, they're also approachable, funny and warm. I feel lucky working with them.
Today, I've been in Cambridge for my first ever product briefing. The PCH is about to launch this dead-exciting anti-wrinkle cream and we were given pots of that and the eye cream - I'll let you know how well they work in due course. We also were given details of the product launches for the next 3 months. It's all terribly exciting really. Lots of bright, retro colours to go with our impressive range of summer products and sun care. I'm going to have lots of fun trying out these different looks. Though I'm not convinced by the lime-green lip gloss or bright orange nail polish.
I am such a freebee tart. I was practically jumping up and down when we went into the room and there on our places were the boxes of moisturiser and eyecream. We also got given this fab goodie bag crammed full of stuff. I can't wait to try it all out. I know it's terribly shallow, but I just can't help myself.
I was so nervous today, I had to go to the training by myself and I didn't know anyone else there. I met up with some of the girls from PCHs in other stores. They were so sweet, they made me feel so welcome and not at all out of place. We chatted all the way there and back on the train, they were such a laugh. I am still amazed by the women who work in the cosmetics industry. Having been assassinated several times by women in offices and their office politics, I am still a bit wary of working with women. But these ladies are not only glamorous, they're also approachable, funny and warm. I feel lucky working with them.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Both Sides Now
I do not often suffer from loneliness. In fact, I'm sure sometimes my friends must think I'm bloody unsociable, I'd rather stay in wrapped up in my pink fluffy dressing gown, rather than down the pub, necking back the pints. I usually look forward to Boy's weekend away, it gives both of us a break, some breathing space and when he returns we have lots of hugs and news to share. I can hole up happily on a weekend, enjoy my duvet, do nothing for a whole weekend.
It was different this weekend. Boy had gone off to his dad's, my Viking was busy saving the world oop North and I had Easter Sunday all to myself. I didn't really want to go home Saturday evening after I finished at work, I'm sure part of that was yet another damp, cold walk home. The cat did her best to try to cheer me up, but only succeeded in irritating me. Sunday was no better really. I was busy enough, did laundry, pottered around cleaning and tidying. I was determined not to sulk, but the more determined I was, the more I did.
Then I realised what was wrong. My Self-Pity Gnome wanted to come and play.
Actually, the Self-Pity Gnome had been hanging around for some time now and as much as I've been trying to ignore it, it's been determined to have my attention. I suppose going to one of my Ex's wedding sparked things off. He and his bride looked so happy and I was so pleased for both of them. I like celebrating good things and marriage is a milestone that definitely needs to be celebrated properly. It was a real pleasure to see the couple together, I do wish them all the best.
My Self-Pity Gnome isn't at all about them and I really find it difficult to put my finger on it. I suppose I'm grieving for a time in my life when I still thought I was invincible. A time when I thought there was nothing I couldn't achieve. When certainty was a part of my language. Then life happened. I realise I've lost that faith in the future as far as relationships are concerned. It won't ever be me again. And I wish, so much it hurts, it could be me. But it won't be.
I'm too set in my ways, too wary.I don't want any more children. I don't want to play Happy Homemaker. My goal is to find a path that will enable me to find employment which pays the bills and is interesting at the very least. I've been far too reliant in the past, it's time to be properly independent. I'm trying to focus on the things I have on a day-to-day basis. I am healthier, happier and more capable than I've been in a long, long time; if ever. There are many good things about my life which I do not take for granted. I suppose I just can't help but mourn the loss of that more innocent me.
I have healthier relationships these days.
Even if it does mean I spend time dancing at ex-boyfriend's weddings.
It was different this weekend. Boy had gone off to his dad's, my Viking was busy saving the world oop North and I had Easter Sunday all to myself. I didn't really want to go home Saturday evening after I finished at work, I'm sure part of that was yet another damp, cold walk home. The cat did her best to try to cheer me up, but only succeeded in irritating me. Sunday was no better really. I was busy enough, did laundry, pottered around cleaning and tidying. I was determined not to sulk, but the more determined I was, the more I did.
Then I realised what was wrong. My Self-Pity Gnome wanted to come and play.
Actually, the Self-Pity Gnome had been hanging around for some time now and as much as I've been trying to ignore it, it's been determined to have my attention. I suppose going to one of my Ex's wedding sparked things off. He and his bride looked so happy and I was so pleased for both of them. I like celebrating good things and marriage is a milestone that definitely needs to be celebrated properly. It was a real pleasure to see the couple together, I do wish them all the best.
My Self-Pity Gnome isn't at all about them and I really find it difficult to put my finger on it. I suppose I'm grieving for a time in my life when I still thought I was invincible. A time when I thought there was nothing I couldn't achieve. When certainty was a part of my language. Then life happened. I realise I've lost that faith in the future as far as relationships are concerned. It won't ever be me again. And I wish, so much it hurts, it could be me. But it won't be.
I'm too set in my ways, too wary.I don't want any more children. I don't want to play Happy Homemaker. My goal is to find a path that will enable me to find employment which pays the bills and is interesting at the very least. I've been far too reliant in the past, it's time to be properly independent. I'm trying to focus on the things I have on a day-to-day basis. I am healthier, happier and more capable than I've been in a long, long time; if ever. There are many good things about my life which I do not take for granted. I suppose I just can't help but mourn the loss of that more innocent me.
I have healthier relationships these days.
Even if it does mean I spend time dancing at ex-boyfriend's weddings.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Grumble
I'm sat here in my pink fluffy dressing gown staring out the window. It's snowing. Today, I've decided to partake in the national past-time: grumbling about the weather. In the last week, I'm hard pressed to remember when I walked to work and didn't get soaked. On Friday, one of my shoes decided to change career and become a sandal, which in freezing cold rain is just not considerate.
I get soaked on the way in to work because I walk, don't suggest an umbrella, because it's just not practical. By the time I'd be finished fighting with it, I'd put it down and forget where I left it. And there isn't anywhere to dry the damned thing at work either. Our locker room is permanently freezing. So I arrive wet, hang my coat up, other people hang their coats up over mine; when it's time to go home, my coat is merely damp and cold, rather than sopping.
Watching the snow meander from the clouds, settling on the pavement, it covers everything in a white woolly blanket. It's so pretty: from the inside. I'm going to have to make an excursion to return Gee's book and I'll take my camera with me for any photo-opportunities. But I must admit, I'm a bit fed-up with Winter. I'd like some sunshine please. Warmth to seep into my bones. I'm looking forward to opening my front door and windows to let in the fresh Spring air. I've done my Spring Clean, I've got my hayfever medication all ready and raring to go, I am ready for a change.
I get soaked on the way in to work because I walk, don't suggest an umbrella, because it's just not practical. By the time I'd be finished fighting with it, I'd put it down and forget where I left it. And there isn't anywhere to dry the damned thing at work either. Our locker room is permanently freezing. So I arrive wet, hang my coat up, other people hang their coats up over mine; when it's time to go home, my coat is merely damp and cold, rather than sopping.
Watching the snow meander from the clouds, settling on the pavement, it covers everything in a white woolly blanket. It's so pretty: from the inside. I'm going to have to make an excursion to return Gee's book and I'll take my camera with me for any photo-opportunities. But I must admit, I'm a bit fed-up with Winter. I'd like some sunshine please. Warmth to seep into my bones. I'm looking forward to opening my front door and windows to let in the fresh Spring air. I've done my Spring Clean, I've got my hayfever medication all ready and raring to go, I am ready for a change.
Friday, March 21, 2008
Ruminations
As I squelched, sloshed and dripped my way home after work I considered the efficacy of the hideously expensive creams, lotions and potions that I must sell in order to earn my daily bread. Firstly, I need to say, I am not a good salesperson.
The definition of a good sales person is someone who could sell double glazing, insurance, curtain rings and it make no difference to them or their bottom line at the end of the month.
I can only sell things that I am happy to recommend. Hence, I could sell Miller Harris, which is not what you would call cheap by any means; but I love the product. I believe it does everything it says on the tin and it comes with minimal bullshit.
So here I am working on a counter that has a line of products that will set you back thus:
cleanser £50
toner £50
eye cream £110
face cream £160
(If you are still sat in your chair and your jaw isn't in your lap, would you please consider donating to my MA fund?)
I have been talking to various colleagues about it and peering intently at their skin. Given that some of these ladies have waved goodbye to their menopause in the last decade and they still look like they've just turned 49, would suggest that there really is something in it.
I've been examining my customers' skin and I am beginning to believe that you really can tell the difference between a woman who looks after her skin and a woman who doesn't. I suppose at the end of the day life and gravity will take their toll on skin and the rest of our bodies, and while my products won't promise to turn back time, they do promise to keep the absolute worst at bay.
Given that everyone is struggling financially thanks to the rise in ultility bills, petrol and food, is it worth spending £45 on a jar of cream? I can't answer that. I suspect that if money is tight, spending as much as you can comfortably afford won't be money wasted.
But then I would say that, wouldn't I?
The definition of a good sales person is someone who could sell double glazing, insurance, curtain rings and it make no difference to them or their bottom line at the end of the month.
I can only sell things that I am happy to recommend. Hence, I could sell Miller Harris, which is not what you would call cheap by any means; but I love the product. I believe it does everything it says on the tin and it comes with minimal bullshit.
So here I am working on a counter that has a line of products that will set you back thus:
cleanser £50
toner £50
eye cream £110
face cream £160
(If you are still sat in your chair and your jaw isn't in your lap, would you please consider donating to my MA fund?)
I have been talking to various colleagues about it and peering intently at their skin. Given that some of these ladies have waved goodbye to their menopause in the last decade and they still look like they've just turned 49, would suggest that there really is something in it.
I've been examining my customers' skin and I am beginning to believe that you really can tell the difference between a woman who looks after her skin and a woman who doesn't. I suppose at the end of the day life and gravity will take their toll on skin and the rest of our bodies, and while my products won't promise to turn back time, they do promise to keep the absolute worst at bay.
Given that everyone is struggling financially thanks to the rise in ultility bills, petrol and food, is it worth spending £45 on a jar of cream? I can't answer that. I suspect that if money is tight, spending as much as you can comfortably afford won't be money wasted.
But then I would say that, wouldn't I?
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Return of the Tracks
This week has been a bit of a rollercoaster. Last week, I was munching on a mint - a necessary evil to avoid killing customers with coffee breath - and it went crunch, crunch, *crunch*. Bugger. I broke a molar. Now, my relationship with dentists aren't terribly good. I did have a dentist on the North Norfolk coast, but since I don't have access to a car, I haven't been to see her for over two years. I've tried dentists in the city with limited success. The dentist at the university seemed to be the 'old school' type; he had limited technology and liked to cause pain. Another dentist seemed to find it unusual that I didn't want to make two appointments, one for the check-up and the other for the scale and polish. How quaint was I wanting to get it over and done with?
I logged on to the NHSD website and did a search for NHS dentists in my postcode. I had a nice list of practices to ring, until I started reading the small print. Most were not accepting new patients, or NHS patients and/or both. I decided to follow Gee's advice and rang her dentist, on the off-chance they could see me. The cheerful receptionist said they'd be happy to take me on, but could only see me in April, when I explained my mishap with the mint, I got to see the dishiest dentist Tuesday morning.
To cut a long, and largely unpleasant story short, he poked about for a bit, decided to do a scale and polish while he was at it and then suggested that part of my problem was that my bite was off, I've got an over-crowding problem and would I consider braces?
I had braces in my teens. Not an entirely happy or satisfactory experience, largely my fault for not maintaining good oral hygiene. Crooked teeth run in the family, because Boy is about to start his course of orthodontics. So I thought about it and said, yes.
I'll need to be refered to the specialist, and I'm not entirely sure I can afford it at the moment, but it'll be something that will be worthwhile, especially if I don't have problems with pesky mints ever again.
I logged on to the NHSD website and did a search for NHS dentists in my postcode. I had a nice list of practices to ring, until I started reading the small print. Most were not accepting new patients, or NHS patients and/or both. I decided to follow Gee's advice and rang her dentist, on the off-chance they could see me. The cheerful receptionist said they'd be happy to take me on, but could only see me in April, when I explained my mishap with the mint, I got to see the dishiest dentist Tuesday morning.
To cut a long, and largely unpleasant story short, he poked about for a bit, decided to do a scale and polish while he was at it and then suggested that part of my problem was that my bite was off, I've got an over-crowding problem and would I consider braces?
I had braces in my teens. Not an entirely happy or satisfactory experience, largely my fault for not maintaining good oral hygiene. Crooked teeth run in the family, because Boy is about to start his course of orthodontics. So I thought about it and said, yes.
I'll need to be refered to the specialist, and I'm not entirely sure I can afford it at the moment, but it'll be something that will be worthwhile, especially if I don't have problems with pesky mints ever again.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Don't Bank On It
Dear Halifax bank customer,
We have implemented security measures consistent with our internal information security practices to help us keep your information secure. These measures include technical and procedural steps to protect your data from misuse, access or disclosure, loss, alteration or destruction.
One of these security measures is HOF (Halifax Online Form) to help us to keep your personal and banking data up to date.
You should complete HOF on a regular basis.
Please complete HOF using the link below:
http://halifax.co.uk/_mem_bin/onlineform.asp?source=9134218881090309239397710863992004824285285469873
Halifax Automated Mail Service. Please do not respond to this mail.
Well, I'd be really happy to give all of my personal details to these lovely people, except for one slight detail. I'm not a Halifax customer and haven't been since 1997, well before the e-mail address they sent this to existed.
We have implemented security measures consistent with our internal information security practices to help us keep your information secure. These measures include technical and procedural steps to protect your data from misuse, access or disclosure, loss, alteration or destruction.
One of these security measures is HOF (Halifax Online Form) to help us to keep your personal and banking data up to date.
You should complete HOF on a regular basis.
Please complete HOF using the link below:
http://halifax.co.uk/_mem_bin/onlineform.asp?source=9134218881090309239397710863992004824285285469873
Halifax Automated Mail Service. Please do not respond to this mail.
***
Well, I'd be really happy to give all of my personal details to these lovely people, except for one slight detail. I'm not a Halifax customer and haven't been since 1997, well before the e-mail address they sent this to existed.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Plea from the Heart
I was recently unfaithful to Facebook and signed up to Moli.co.uk, which is another social networking website. What can I say, I was curious and thought I'd give it a go. And I'm so pleased I did. Today, after I limped back from work, I got an e-mail saying there was some 'activity' on my page. Curious about this activity I had a look and I thought I would share it with you.
From Stella AmahABIDJAN-COTE D'IVOIRE WEST AFRICA.
Dear,CONTACT ME WITH THIS EMAIL:(st_amah2v@yahoo.com)
permit me to inform you of my desire of going into business relationship with you. i have the believe you are a reputable and responsible and trustworthy person I can do business with from the little information so far I gathered about you during my search for a partner and by matter of trust I must not hesitate to confide in you for this simple and sincere business.
I am Stella Amah 21 years of age the only daughter of late Mr Boni Amah whom was killed by the rebels that attacked our country cote d'Ivoire west Africa and took over our town (BOUAKE).
I ran to Abidjan the economical capital of cote d'ivoire from were I am contacting you.
Before the death of my father he told me that he has a sum of US$9,000,000(Nine million united states dollars) kept in a private security company here in cote d'ivoire in my name as the next of kin,
Dear, in the capacity of the next of kin and with all the documents in my hand now, I am contacting you with due sence of humanity that you will give it a sympathetic and mutual consideration.
I am honourably seeking your assistance in the following ways.
(1)To serve as the guardian of this fund and to come assist me visit the security company here to retrive the consignment.
(2)To make arrangement for me to come over to your country to further my education and to secure a residential permit for me in your country.
(3)To provide good investment plans for the fund and to manage the fund for 5 years, during the investment period,only our profit will be shared annually 70% for me the investor while 30% will be for you the fund manager annually.
Moreover, I am willing to offer you 15 % of the total sum as compensation for your effort /input after the successful transfer of this fund to your nominated account overseas, before the investments starts.and I have maped 5% for any expenses that might be incured during the courseof this transaction.
furthermore, you can indicate your option towards assisting me as I believe that this transaction would be concluded within a stipulated period of time you signify your interest to assist me.
Anticipating hearing from you immediately.
Thanks and God bless.
Best Regards.
Stella Amah.
I've got to go now, I'm packing for the Cote d'Ivoire.
From Stella AmahABIDJAN-COTE D'IVOIRE WEST AFRICA.
Dear,CONTACT ME WITH THIS EMAIL:(st_amah2v@yahoo.com)
permit me to inform you of my desire of going into business relationship with you. i have the believe you are a reputable and responsible and trustworthy person I can do business with from the little information so far I gathered about you during my search for a partner and by matter of trust I must not hesitate to confide in you for this simple and sincere business.
I am Stella Amah 21 years of age the only daughter of late Mr Boni Amah whom was killed by the rebels that attacked our country cote d'Ivoire west Africa and took over our town (BOUAKE).
I ran to Abidjan the economical capital of cote d'ivoire from were I am contacting you.
Before the death of my father he told me that he has a sum of US$9,000,000(Nine million united states dollars) kept in a private security company here in cote d'ivoire in my name as the next of kin,
Dear, in the capacity of the next of kin and with all the documents in my hand now, I am contacting you with due sence of humanity that you will give it a sympathetic and mutual consideration.
I am honourably seeking your assistance in the following ways.
(1)To serve as the guardian of this fund and to come assist me visit the security company here to retrive the consignment.
(2)To make arrangement for me to come over to your country to further my education and to secure a residential permit for me in your country.
(3)To provide good investment plans for the fund and to manage the fund for 5 years, during the investment period,only our profit will be shared annually 70% for me the investor while 30% will be for you the fund manager annually.
Moreover, I am willing to offer you 15 % of the total sum as compensation for your effort /input after the successful transfer of this fund to your nominated account overseas, before the investments starts.and I have maped 5% for any expenses that might be incured during the courseof this transaction.
furthermore, you can indicate your option towards assisting me as I believe that this transaction would be concluded within a stipulated period of time you signify your interest to assist me.
Anticipating hearing from you immediately.
Thanks and God bless.
Best Regards.
Stella Amah.
I've got to go now, I'm packing for the Cote d'Ivoire.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Good News Story
Check this article out on the BBC news website. Could this be the resurrection of common sense? The back-lash against the Americanized Claims Culture?
I do hope so.
I do hope so.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Memories
Today, I tried Lancome's Poeme (my apologies to this French company, I haven't figured out quite how to get accents in Blogger). It was a trip down memory lane. I bought this fragrance in 1999. It's quite light, a well rounded floral which marked my transition from scabby Development Studies graduate, to local government employee. In that period, the millenium was a reality, a relationship ended and a not-a-very-bright relationship began. When I smelt it on my wrists, it felt like a touch of innocence had been returned to me. Since that time I've grown up quite a bit from the mistakes I've made. And after all of that, I still don't know what I want to do when I grow up.
The foul weather was less successful at keeping people away, than it had in the beginning of this week. I was able to work on my link-selling skills and to try doing make-ups on colleagues and friends who popped in. What has taken me by surprise is the support I've been getting from the women on the counters, they've been giving me tips and hints and encouragement when I've been obviously disappointed with my figures.
Last year, you will remember I waxed lyrical about a Boots nail polish. Last summer, I went a bit mad and bought loads of colours from Boots and Rimmel and my nails really suffered. They literally began to flake off. I also was disappointed with the way the nail polish lasted. It scratched and lost it's gloss really quickly. Last week, I gave in and bought some expensive polish - it's £9.99 a bottle! Talk about having to steady your nerves. However, it has proven to me that you get what you pay for. It's called O.P.I and it is stunning. My nails are glossy, chip free and look great. How happy am I? By the way, this isn't vanity on my part, it's necessity. I've got to be manicured for work. Basically, I've got to be top totty every day. What fun!
After lunch I came downstairs, sprayed myself liberally with Poeme and stood opposite to my counter, checking out my stock levels. This amazingly tall woman walked past me, stopped, looked at me quizzically.
"I've just smelt something marvellous as I walked past." She says. "It's somewhere around here." She gestures around my area.
"That'll be me," I laughed.
The foul weather was less successful at keeping people away, than it had in the beginning of this week. I was able to work on my link-selling skills and to try doing make-ups on colleagues and friends who popped in. What has taken me by surprise is the support I've been getting from the women on the counters, they've been giving me tips and hints and encouragement when I've been obviously disappointed with my figures.
Last year, you will remember I waxed lyrical about a Boots nail polish. Last summer, I went a bit mad and bought loads of colours from Boots and Rimmel and my nails really suffered. They literally began to flake off. I also was disappointed with the way the nail polish lasted. It scratched and lost it's gloss really quickly. Last week, I gave in and bought some expensive polish - it's £9.99 a bottle! Talk about having to steady your nerves. However, it has proven to me that you get what you pay for. It's called O.P.I and it is stunning. My nails are glossy, chip free and look great. How happy am I? By the way, this isn't vanity on my part, it's necessity. I've got to be manicured for work. Basically, I've got to be top totty every day. What fun!
After lunch I came downstairs, sprayed myself liberally with Poeme and stood opposite to my counter, checking out my stock levels. This amazingly tall woman walked past me, stopped, looked at me quizzically.
"I've just smelt something marvellous as I walked past." She says. "It's somewhere around here." She gestures around my area.
"That'll be me," I laughed.
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.
Monday, March 03, 2008
End of Days
After 14 months of life in Perfumery, tomorrow I step into the fabulous shoes of a lady on a Prestigious Cosmetic House. It seemed appropriate to take stock of the changes in my life since embarking on my new found employment in Retail.
1. I now have 14 bottles of perfume on my dressing table. They are: Paul Smith - Rose, Flower by Kenzo, Classique edt by Jean-Paul Gaultier, Ralph Lauren - Rocks, Narcisso Rodriguez - for her edp, Un Jardin en Mediterranee by Hermes, Eclat d'Arpege by Lanvin, Rumeur by Lanvin, Maitresse by Agent Provocateur, Addict 2 by Dior, Stella by Stella McCartney, Prada tendre, Geranium Bourbon by Miller Harris and Voile de Fleur by Tom Ford. And there's always room for one more.
2. I now have 2 baskets of make-up and cosmetics and working for my PCH I will have to replace all of my random brands with theirs. I now know why a serum is important under a moisturiser and why investing in a decent foundation brush is more important than the foundation. I totally love being a girlie.
3. I can sell. Perhaps a bit obvious, but I've found something I'm really good at. Yes, I would rather have been the next JK Rowling, but I've got bills to pay and retail is an easy way. Rather that, than doing reception in an accountants office.
4. It does not seem unreasonable to me to dust some powder over my cheeks and slap some gloss on to go to the shops.
I have no idea where this side step will take me, hopefully to bigger and brighter things, at the very least it will keep the roof over our heads for a little bit longer. Was this what I wanted for myself when I struggled through two degrees? No, not really. But at the end of each tirin, frustrating day, I'm knackered, but still a damned sight happier than when I was properly employed in Local Government.
1. I now have 14 bottles of perfume on my dressing table. They are: Paul Smith - Rose, Flower by Kenzo, Classique edt by Jean-Paul Gaultier, Ralph Lauren - Rocks, Narcisso Rodriguez - for her edp, Un Jardin en Mediterranee by Hermes, Eclat d'Arpege by Lanvin, Rumeur by Lanvin, Maitresse by Agent Provocateur, Addict 2 by Dior, Stella by Stella McCartney, Prada tendre, Geranium Bourbon by Miller Harris and Voile de Fleur by Tom Ford. And there's always room for one more.
2. I now have 2 baskets of make-up and cosmetics and working for my PCH I will have to replace all of my random brands with theirs. I now know why a serum is important under a moisturiser and why investing in a decent foundation brush is more important than the foundation. I totally love being a girlie.
3. I can sell. Perhaps a bit obvious, but I've found something I'm really good at. Yes, I would rather have been the next JK Rowling, but I've got bills to pay and retail is an easy way. Rather that, than doing reception in an accountants office.
4. It does not seem unreasonable to me to dust some powder over my cheeks and slap some gloss on to go to the shops.
I have no idea where this side step will take me, hopefully to bigger and brighter things, at the very least it will keep the roof over our heads for a little bit longer. Was this what I wanted for myself when I struggled through two degrees? No, not really. But at the end of each tirin, frustrating day, I'm knackered, but still a damned sight happier than when I was properly employed in Local Government.
Monday, February 25, 2008
I'm a Winner!
Batch number: 12/25/0340
Reff number: MSN-L/200-26937
Winning number: YM09788
Congratulations to you as we bring to your notice the result of MICROSOFT MEGA JACKPOT LOTTO. We are happy to inform you that your email address have emerged a winner of £500,000.00 (POUNDS STERLING).
MR. Terry Martins
Email: micrsoft-online@thebrittnationalgames.co.uk
Tel: +44-703-190-9638
You are also required to contact him with the below information.
(a) Your full Name:
(b) Contact address:
(c) Your Telephone and fax numbers:
(d) Your Age:
(e) Your occupation:
(f) Your country of origin:
Regards,
Mrs. Rose Carl
Online Co-ordinator
This e-mail landed in my Inbox this morning. Horray! I can give up work and go on a 6 month holiday to Tobago! Not.
Reff number: MSN-L/200-26937
Winning number: YM09788
Congratulations to you as we bring to your notice the result of MICROSOFT MEGA JACKPOT LOTTO. We are happy to inform you that your email address have emerged a winner of £500,000.00 (POUNDS STERLING).
MR. Terry Martins
Email: micrsoft-online@thebrittnationalgames.co.uk
Tel: +44-703-190-9638
You are also required to contact him with the below information.
(a) Your full Name:
(b) Contact address:
(c) Your Telephone and fax numbers:
(d) Your Age:
(e) Your occupation:
(f) Your country of origin:
Regards,
Mrs. Rose Carl
Online Co-ordinator
This e-mail landed in my Inbox this morning. Horray! I can give up work and go on a 6 month holiday to Tobago! Not.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
All Change!
My nesting continues much to the consternation and surprise of the men in my life, to the point whereby Oblivion has gone unplayed. But my bedroom has been dug out, the floor is no longer a rumour, I've even created some space for my Viking to store stuff - should he so wish it. The front room still has more shite than I'm happy with, but until the Viking heads up into the loft to put away several crates, not much I can do about it. He promises that he will do that over the next few days, and I'll see if bribery and corruption can speed things along. At least the front room is now dust and cobweb free.
My intentions were to have a lazy day today, for once, my laziness didn't get the better of me and while I didn't exactly move very fast, I did manage to get quite a lot done. I look about my handiwork now, and I could really get used to this target-achieving-feeling. I can't believe that I've actually managed to do what I intended without major stresses on my part. I basically have just pottered around, doing little bits here and there and somehow they've managed to add up to something good.
It's a bit sad, that I'm a grown woman who is patting herself on the back for doing a bit of housework. But there you go. I doubt it will last, so it's good while it lasts.
Oh, and I have other news!
A couple of job opportunities came up at work. Both were in cosmetic houses. Yes, I know I'm being a bit vague, but I'd rather keep the new job I've got. I'll give you a bit of a hint: as from next Monday, I'll be a beauty consultant for the Cosmetic House for whom Kate Winslet and Clive Owen have done a bit of work for. It's very up-market and the products are fabulous. Before I went into the interview, I wasn't bothered, I had another interview lined up for the weekend, with more days and therefore more money. But during the interview I really liked what I heard and I was very pleased to be offered the job. I'm really looking forward to the change of pace.
It does mean that my days in perfumery are numbered - 3 to be exact, but as my Viking laughingly pointed out - I've got 13 bottles of perfume sitting on my dressing table - time for something new!
My intentions were to have a lazy day today, for once, my laziness didn't get the better of me and while I didn't exactly move very fast, I did manage to get quite a lot done. I look about my handiwork now, and I could really get used to this target-achieving-feeling. I can't believe that I've actually managed to do what I intended without major stresses on my part. I basically have just pottered around, doing little bits here and there and somehow they've managed to add up to something good.
It's a bit sad, that I'm a grown woman who is patting herself on the back for doing a bit of housework. But there you go. I doubt it will last, so it's good while it lasts.
Oh, and I have other news!
A couple of job opportunities came up at work. Both were in cosmetic houses. Yes, I know I'm being a bit vague, but I'd rather keep the new job I've got. I'll give you a bit of a hint: as from next Monday, I'll be a beauty consultant for the Cosmetic House for whom Kate Winslet and Clive Owen have done a bit of work for. It's very up-market and the products are fabulous. Before I went into the interview, I wasn't bothered, I had another interview lined up for the weekend, with more days and therefore more money. But during the interview I really liked what I heard and I was very pleased to be offered the job. I'm really looking forward to the change of pace.
It does mean that my days in perfumery are numbered - 3 to be exact, but as my Viking laughingly pointed out - I've got 13 bottles of perfume sitting on my dressing table - time for something new!
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Nesting
Spring is just round the corner. I know this is true because blackthorn is in flower. Today, I have been continuing my spring cleaning. Last week I started digging out my bedroom and happily re-housed 6 bags of rubbish which had been sitting in boxes on shelves for over 2 years (ever since I removed ourselves from a disastrous relationship). Last year I had my hands full with Pops, dissertation, work and finishing my degree.
A couple of weeks ago I looked around the flat and did not like what I saw. Since then my discontent has grown. Gee and I headed off to a garden centre (or two) looking for houseplants for me to kill and a coffee and cake moment. I was very, very good. I only got the things on my list. I did not succumb to the temptation of orchids in bright fuschia conical pots. I was so proud of myself.
I love gardening. I love having green things and flowers around me. Unfortunately, I'm a fair weather gardner with a short attention span. I am rubbish at remembering to water things, which is why things that grow outside always get on a lot better than the things that grow inside. I have a list of plants that I can kill: spider plants, rubber plants, peace lillies etc. The plants that are still alive are pretty much safe from nuclear fall-out. I have a weeping fig, 3 orchids and two pelargonams which are doing fine and an alpine strawberry and a money plant which I need to pay more attention to.
So thanks to B&Q, I have now added an ivy, 2 chyrsanthemums and gerbera (yes, I kill these with ease but it was a 3 for £5 jobby and I didn't fancy the flaming katy) to my collection. I even invested in a packet of seeds and am experimenting to see if it's possible to grow nastirtiums (I can grow the damn things, buggered if I can spell them) for indoor use. Oh, I'm also giving a jasmine in the kitchen another go. I tried to grow one over netting on my kitchen window last year. It succumbed to my lax watering. I think it's an idea worth giving another go. If I kill the damn thing this time, I'll have to try something else.
Right, rest break is over. Now to finish attending to my bedroom.
A couple of weeks ago I looked around the flat and did not like what I saw. Since then my discontent has grown. Gee and I headed off to a garden centre (or two) looking for houseplants for me to kill and a coffee and cake moment. I was very, very good. I only got the things on my list. I did not succumb to the temptation of orchids in bright fuschia conical pots. I was so proud of myself.
I love gardening. I love having green things and flowers around me. Unfortunately, I'm a fair weather gardner with a short attention span. I am rubbish at remembering to water things, which is why things that grow outside always get on a lot better than the things that grow inside. I have a list of plants that I can kill: spider plants, rubber plants, peace lillies etc. The plants that are still alive are pretty much safe from nuclear fall-out. I have a weeping fig, 3 orchids and two pelargonams which are doing fine and an alpine strawberry and a money plant which I need to pay more attention to.
So thanks to B&Q, I have now added an ivy, 2 chyrsanthemums and gerbera (yes, I kill these with ease but it was a 3 for £5 jobby and I didn't fancy the flaming katy) to my collection. I even invested in a packet of seeds and am experimenting to see if it's possible to grow nastirtiums (I can grow the damn things, buggered if I can spell them) for indoor use. Oh, I'm also giving a jasmine in the kitchen another go. I tried to grow one over netting on my kitchen window last year. It succumbed to my lax watering. I think it's an idea worth giving another go. If I kill the damn thing this time, I'll have to try something else.
Right, rest break is over. Now to finish attending to my bedroom.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Urban Myth?
I get a lot of e-mails.
Some from people in far off places offering me cheap/herbal viagra for my erectile dysfunction and a plethora of pills, powders and potions, to make my floppy penis grow bigger. Presumably, when the pills finally work I can then properly enjoy Teen Hard-Core Lesbian Spanking Action.
Thanks very much.
I also get the cutsie ones with angels, fuzzy animals and a Celine Dion soundtrack which finish with the promise of dire consequences if I don't immediately send it on to all the people on my Contacts List. I have friends who appreciate my low-brow humour and they send me good/dirty jokes which I am happy to pass on - long may it continue. I also get the 'public service' e-mails about missing children in Utah - have I seen them? Umm...no.
If Harry Bloggs writes to me, it's a trick, so pass this e-mail onto everyone in my Contact List to make sure, none of my friends gets caught by this awful scam. Lately, I've been employing my delete button quite a bit. Strange how hard-hearted I've become. I really don't feel moved by the plight of that Nigerian Princess in exile who will give me her fortune, if only I would just help her out.
Today, I got an e-mail which I thought I'd put out there, see if it rang any bells with any of my plod readers.
An important message from the Police -
Guys please pass this along to all the women you know.....This actually happened a few weeks ago right here in England . It was early evening and a young lady stopped to get petrol. She filled her tank and walked into the store to pay for her petrol. The cashier told her 'Don't pay for your petrol yet.....walk around the store for a while and act as if you're picking up some other things to buy. A man just got into the back of your car. I've called the police and they're on their way'. When the police arrived, they found the man in the back seat of the girl's car and asked him what he was doing. He replied, he was joining a gang and the initiation to join is to kidnap a woman and bring her back to the gang to be raped by every member of the gang. If the woman was still alive by the time they finish with her then they let her go. According to the police that night, there is a new gang forming here originating from London. The scary part of this is because the guy didn't have a weapon on him. The police could only charge him with trespassing....He's back on the street and free to try again. Please be aware of what's going on around you and for your family and friends. LADIES you or one of your family and friends could be the next victim. Please forward this on to everyone you know. Please do not discard this message it is very important that everyone knows what is happening. Please be careful when leaving your vehicle and make sure it is ALWAYS Locked to prevent this from happening to you.
Sound familiar?
Some from people in far off places offering me cheap/herbal viagra for my erectile dysfunction and a plethora of pills, powders and potions, to make my floppy penis grow bigger. Presumably, when the pills finally work I can then properly enjoy Teen Hard-Core Lesbian Spanking Action.
Thanks very much.
I also get the cutsie ones with angels, fuzzy animals and a Celine Dion soundtrack which finish with the promise of dire consequences if I don't immediately send it on to all the people on my Contacts List. I have friends who appreciate my low-brow humour and they send me good/dirty jokes which I am happy to pass on - long may it continue. I also get the 'public service' e-mails about missing children in Utah - have I seen them? Umm...no.
If Harry Bloggs writes to me, it's a trick, so pass this e-mail onto everyone in my Contact List to make sure, none of my friends gets caught by this awful scam. Lately, I've been employing my delete button quite a bit. Strange how hard-hearted I've become. I really don't feel moved by the plight of that Nigerian Princess in exile who will give me her fortune, if only I would just help her out.
Today, I got an e-mail which I thought I'd put out there, see if it rang any bells with any of my plod readers.
An important message from the Police -
Guys please pass this along to all the women you know.....This actually happened a few weeks ago right here in England . It was early evening and a young lady stopped to get petrol. She filled her tank and walked into the store to pay for her petrol. The cashier told her 'Don't pay for your petrol yet.....walk around the store for a while and act as if you're picking up some other things to buy. A man just got into the back of your car. I've called the police and they're on their way'. When the police arrived, they found the man in the back seat of the girl's car and asked him what he was doing. He replied, he was joining a gang and the initiation to join is to kidnap a woman and bring her back to the gang to be raped by every member of the gang. If the woman was still alive by the time they finish with her then they let her go. According to the police that night, there is a new gang forming here originating from London. The scary part of this is because the guy didn't have a weapon on him. The police could only charge him with trespassing....He's back on the street and free to try again. Please be aware of what's going on around you and for your family and friends. LADIES you or one of your family and friends could be the next victim. Please forward this on to everyone you know. Please do not discard this message it is very important that everyone knows what is happening. Please be careful when leaving your vehicle and make sure it is ALWAYS Locked to prevent this from happening to you.
Sound familiar?
Monday, February 11, 2008
Assault of V-Day
I was at work travelling up an escalator with a colleague I was on nodding terms with, when she asked me why I was dressed in a pink top.
"It's for Valentine's Day and the launch of a new fragrance," I say.
"My boyfriend and I don't 'do' Valentine's Day. He says it just commercialism anyway. You should show your love every day, not just on the day the retailers say," she says.
I've heard this argument quite a few times now and I have a lot of sympathy for it. And truth be known, I've spent far too many Valentine's Days checking an empty post box, in-box, doorstep. There's nothing quite as depressing as seeing the other women you work with getting big, bouquet's of flowers, balloons and cards. They always look so damned smug. It's led to me feeling old, fat and unloved at times. Billy No-Mate - that's me.
But tuth be told, I'm a shallow woman. I love flowers and presents. Someone who has taken the time and effort to shower me in both just because he could, is someone special in my books. One of the presents I hold most dear is a small, cuddly bat. Something silly and probably not very expensive, but it was chosen with care and love and it makes me smile. So please don't think I'm advocating spending a huge amount of dosh just because you can (but not to say I would turn down a romantic weekend break in Budapest).
So I turned around and asked my cynical colleague "Does your partner give you cards, flowers and chocolate at other times of the year then?"
She thought, frowned and finally said "No, he doesn't."
There you go then.
To my mind, even if you don't want to celebrate Valentine's Day, fair enough; but do make sure your loved one gets spoilt, even if because it's just Monday.
"It's for Valentine's Day and the launch of a new fragrance," I say.
"My boyfriend and I don't 'do' Valentine's Day. He says it just commercialism anyway. You should show your love every day, not just on the day the retailers say," she says.
I've heard this argument quite a few times now and I have a lot of sympathy for it. And truth be known, I've spent far too many Valentine's Days checking an empty post box, in-box, doorstep. There's nothing quite as depressing as seeing the other women you work with getting big, bouquet's of flowers, balloons and cards. They always look so damned smug. It's led to me feeling old, fat and unloved at times. Billy No-Mate - that's me.
But tuth be told, I'm a shallow woman. I love flowers and presents. Someone who has taken the time and effort to shower me in both just because he could, is someone special in my books. One of the presents I hold most dear is a small, cuddly bat. Something silly and probably not very expensive, but it was chosen with care and love and it makes me smile. So please don't think I'm advocating spending a huge amount of dosh just because you can (but not to say I would turn down a romantic weekend break in Budapest).
So I turned around and asked my cynical colleague "Does your partner give you cards, flowers and chocolate at other times of the year then?"
She thought, frowned and finally said "No, he doesn't."
There you go then.
To my mind, even if you don't want to celebrate Valentine's Day, fair enough; but do make sure your loved one gets spoilt, even if because it's just Monday.
Friday, February 08, 2008
Skinned Cat
This has been a pretty interesting week. My boss suggested that I might like to go for a full-time job in-store. I was at first uncomfortable with the thought because the company she suggested is young, funky and very sales oriented. I didn't think I fit into any of those categories. And then I went and proved myself wrong on the last one. I worked in a different department on Sunday and blew their target completely out of the water. And then on Tuesday, I had the sale from Heaven. Guy walks in, hands me a list and says he wants 2 of everything. His total bill was nigh on a thousand pounds! It took me half an hour to stop shaking! It was a bit of a shame it wasn't one of mine, but hey ho, it looks great for our targets this week.
So I've handed my CV in and I wait to see if I get a telephone interview and then an 'audition'. I'm not sure how I feel about the new job, but I'll give it a go. There's also another part-time job going with another cosmetic house possibly slightly better money but also with 2% commission which if they're on special promotion could go up considerably.
Last night Boy and I went to his school for a presentation on his choices for GCSE. As he wants to be a vet, his choices are pretty much made for him, but it's always useful to see what's available. I had a good chat with the heads of subjects and they seem quite a nice bunch. They were realistic in their advice and quite supportive. It is harder to become a vet than it is to be accepted into med school all of which which we knew. Not only will he have to get A*, Boy will also have to prove that he is a well-rounded individual as well.
Nothing less than excellent will do. No pressure.
With the world sliding inexorably into recession, it looks unlikely that the house in Trinidad will be sold anytime soon. Ultimately, it means I will be unable to go back to my MA in September. As I trooped about town today I've been thinking about the implications. It's so tempting to give in to self-pity and depression, I can feel it tugging at the edge of my consciousness. I've never been so content or fullfilled when I'm indulging my creativity. Writing and art have become part of my identity and when I'm not creative it makes me crazy, I feel unbalanced and itchy. I don't have any doubt as to the partial cause of my blues this winter, it's not just the relentless retail at Christmas.
But let's be realistic. Without a considerable cash injection, completing the MA is not going to happen. I simply cannot afford to pay my fees and keep my household, even on a part-time basis. And actually, I don't know where I'm going at the end of it. I still don't have a goal past the MA.
Boy does have a goal. He knows what he wants to do. The next four years are so important for him. He's going to have to be focussed, he can't afford to wobble or have doubts. He simply won't have time for teenage rebellion and angst.
Therefore, I need to find a full-time job with prospects of advancement. I don't know when the house in Trinidad will be sold and if there's a crash, revolution or an act of God and it doesn't happen, I need to have a workable Plan B. Plan B will involve selling the flat, transferring the equity to pay for Boy's fees and living costs. He won't be able to do part-time work, the demands of the vet degree are too intense.
The kind of pressure that Boy will be put under are incredible and I worry for him. But if he wants this, then he has to know what he's getting himself into. My natural impulses are to start pushing him to focus more on his school work, but I'm not sure that will be in his best interests. At the end of the day I want him to be happy. And if he doesn't get into vet school, first, second or third time, or he gets in and finds he hates it, then it's not the end of the world. His health and sanity are so much more important.
I also wonder what it means for me. Giving up the MA and my dreams of creativity and a creative life are heartbreaking. Will there be recompense for my dreams? Probably not. But that's not the point, is it? One of the things I can say with confidence is my heart mends. It's been broken so many times, I am confident in my ability to survive losing the MA. I've also been considering the worst-case scenarios: what if Boy turns into a druggie and crashes and burns? Well, I'll have done my bit and he'll just have to learn to pick himself up, if he can. What happens if he gets through vet school and he moves county/country? That's a painful thought. A colleague said to me yesterday 'a daughter is for life, you lose your son when he takes a wife'. I'll have to learn that it's not about me and what I want, it's about him and what he wants. I'm less confident in learning that than I am in getting over the MA. But I suspect that's true for most parents. I could worry myself into doing nothing, and that's not an option.
My way forward is this: I find a full-time job with prospects, I re-establish a work-life balance, I have a good time with my Boy.
There. That's not so hard, is it?
So I've handed my CV in and I wait to see if I get a telephone interview and then an 'audition'. I'm not sure how I feel about the new job, but I'll give it a go. There's also another part-time job going with another cosmetic house possibly slightly better money but also with 2% commission which if they're on special promotion could go up considerably.
Last night Boy and I went to his school for a presentation on his choices for GCSE. As he wants to be a vet, his choices are pretty much made for him, but it's always useful to see what's available. I had a good chat with the heads of subjects and they seem quite a nice bunch. They were realistic in their advice and quite supportive. It is harder to become a vet than it is to be accepted into med school all of which which we knew. Not only will he have to get A*, Boy will also have to prove that he is a well-rounded individual as well.
Nothing less than excellent will do. No pressure.
With the world sliding inexorably into recession, it looks unlikely that the house in Trinidad will be sold anytime soon. Ultimately, it means I will be unable to go back to my MA in September. As I trooped about town today I've been thinking about the implications. It's so tempting to give in to self-pity and depression, I can feel it tugging at the edge of my consciousness. I've never been so content or fullfilled when I'm indulging my creativity. Writing and art have become part of my identity and when I'm not creative it makes me crazy, I feel unbalanced and itchy. I don't have any doubt as to the partial cause of my blues this winter, it's not just the relentless retail at Christmas.
But let's be realistic. Without a considerable cash injection, completing the MA is not going to happen. I simply cannot afford to pay my fees and keep my household, even on a part-time basis. And actually, I don't know where I'm going at the end of it. I still don't have a goal past the MA.
Boy does have a goal. He knows what he wants to do. The next four years are so important for him. He's going to have to be focussed, he can't afford to wobble or have doubts. He simply won't have time for teenage rebellion and angst.
Therefore, I need to find a full-time job with prospects of advancement. I don't know when the house in Trinidad will be sold and if there's a crash, revolution or an act of God and it doesn't happen, I need to have a workable Plan B. Plan B will involve selling the flat, transferring the equity to pay for Boy's fees and living costs. He won't be able to do part-time work, the demands of the vet degree are too intense.
The kind of pressure that Boy will be put under are incredible and I worry for him. But if he wants this, then he has to know what he's getting himself into. My natural impulses are to start pushing him to focus more on his school work, but I'm not sure that will be in his best interests. At the end of the day I want him to be happy. And if he doesn't get into vet school, first, second or third time, or he gets in and finds he hates it, then it's not the end of the world. His health and sanity are so much more important.
I also wonder what it means for me. Giving up the MA and my dreams of creativity and a creative life are heartbreaking. Will there be recompense for my dreams? Probably not. But that's not the point, is it? One of the things I can say with confidence is my heart mends. It's been broken so many times, I am confident in my ability to survive losing the MA. I've also been considering the worst-case scenarios: what if Boy turns into a druggie and crashes and burns? Well, I'll have done my bit and he'll just have to learn to pick himself up, if he can. What happens if he gets through vet school and he moves county/country? That's a painful thought. A colleague said to me yesterday 'a daughter is for life, you lose your son when he takes a wife'. I'll have to learn that it's not about me and what I want, it's about him and what he wants. I'm less confident in learning that than I am in getting over the MA. But I suspect that's true for most parents. I could worry myself into doing nothing, and that's not an option.
My way forward is this: I find a full-time job with prospects, I re-establish a work-life balance, I have a good time with my Boy.
There. That's not so hard, is it?
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Survival Mode
I'm not posting as regularly simply because I'll just whinge. I've got my head down and I'm just trying to keep going. Work have provided me with some extra hours for the last couple of weeks, which has been great for my bank balance, not so good for my energy levels. I'm still grateful my customers aren't telepathic or I would have been sacked ages ago. The good news is: the end is in sight. I've booked some time off, which I have every intention of snuggling down on Viking's couch under a duvet and vegging for a week. I feel as if I haven't stopped since October and I'm just knackered, grumpy and pissed off. I haven't seen anyone apart from Boy and Viking, I haven't done anything except try to sell fragrance to the unappreciative, the rude and the downright dodgy. No we don't stock Jordan's fragrance. Yes, I understand Britney has a new perfume out, no we don't stock it, it's bad enough we've got the first 3.
The thing I regret most of all is the loss of my open-mindedness about people's appearance. I used to feverently believe people should not be judged on what they look like. Since working in retail and having regular run-ins with shoplifters I have become gradually socially judgemental. So should you not wash regularly - your body, your clothes, your hands, wear a baseball cap, have your hoodie up, not brush out the 3 inch knots in your hair or be Slavic, you can expect me to stand next to you and watch every move you make while you sniff the bottles of Boss and Burberry. I will call security.
I do feel a bit low at the moment. Today I realised that I'm coming up to the first anniversary of Pops' death. I've been trying to think what I've accomplished this year and where I'll be heading in 2008. It's not been pretty I tell you. My brief bit of job hunting has been depressing to say the least. Employment agencies and prospective employers have been looking at my CV and tutting. I've shot myself in the foot doing the BA in Creative Writing. I've now had too long a break to go back to what I used to do, and my retail employment looks less than impressive. I've been to an interview which I look back upon as a learning experience. I must admit I was gobsmacked with the level of bullshit the employers wanted for their receptionist position. However, I have it on good stead that it's not half as bad as going for a job in a bookstore - there candidates face tests and panel interviews. Seems a bit too much effort for a minimum wage job quite frankly.
I'm trying to be realistic. The reality of the job market at the moment is frightening. Retail is having a tough time of it. I think the British economy is in recession and it's going to get a lot worse, therefore it's not a good time to be job hunting.
On the other hand, this isn't the time to be squeamish. I've come this far, I can't go back. Perhaps it's just time to bodly go. Forget about being sensible, time to throw myself into my creative endeavours and trust that all will be well. Eventually.
The thing I regret most of all is the loss of my open-mindedness about people's appearance. I used to feverently believe people should not be judged on what they look like. Since working in retail and having regular run-ins with shoplifters I have become gradually socially judgemental. So should you not wash regularly - your body, your clothes, your hands, wear a baseball cap, have your hoodie up, not brush out the 3 inch knots in your hair or be Slavic, you can expect me to stand next to you and watch every move you make while you sniff the bottles of Boss and Burberry. I will call security.
I do feel a bit low at the moment. Today I realised that I'm coming up to the first anniversary of Pops' death. I've been trying to think what I've accomplished this year and where I'll be heading in 2008. It's not been pretty I tell you. My brief bit of job hunting has been depressing to say the least. Employment agencies and prospective employers have been looking at my CV and tutting. I've shot myself in the foot doing the BA in Creative Writing. I've now had too long a break to go back to what I used to do, and my retail employment looks less than impressive. I've been to an interview which I look back upon as a learning experience. I must admit I was gobsmacked with the level of bullshit the employers wanted for their receptionist position. However, I have it on good stead that it's not half as bad as going for a job in a bookstore - there candidates face tests and panel interviews. Seems a bit too much effort for a minimum wage job quite frankly.
I'm trying to be realistic. The reality of the job market at the moment is frightening. Retail is having a tough time of it. I think the British economy is in recession and it's going to get a lot worse, therefore it's not a good time to be job hunting.
On the other hand, this isn't the time to be squeamish. I've come this far, I can't go back. Perhaps it's just time to bodly go. Forget about being sensible, time to throw myself into my creative endeavours and trust that all will be well. Eventually.
Friday, January 25, 2008
Substitute
Those of you foolish enough to have been with me from the start, know that every year during whichever week Summer turns up, I turn into a woman of Goo and Phlegm. I become far too sexy for my own good; sneezing, eyes puffed up and watering, generally feeling like crap. After Summer has passed, everything then turns to concrete in my sinuses and I generally feel like crap. To try to limit this misery I have over the years cut down on my dairy consumption. I have fake milk in my two cups of coffee a day and I don't eat much yoghurt or cereals. I do continue to eat cheese. I am very partial to my cheese and no, I won't be giving that up any time soon.
However, I do quite like a bowl of museli every now and then. If I do have it with cow's milk, it now tastes rank. Bleugh. Someone said, try goat's milk. Which I have. It's not bad, considering and it does have a bit of a tang, but when I ran it past Viking - you should have seen his face. Absolute disgust doesn't quite convey the lack of enthusiasm he has for it. I'm a great believer in compromise, so I try and make sure he has his cow's milk when he comes to visit.
But it got me thinking, what else could I try? Soy milk immediately comes to mind, but I've had it in the past and was not impressed. I also would rather not have it in the house because it's been linked to lower sperm levels in men and as I keep telling Boy, I'm eagerly awaiting grandchildren (not right away though - yes I realise he's knocking on a bit in Chav terms, but I'd rather he left school and got a job first - how middle class am I?).
It got me thinking about substitution and does it really work? When I was a veggie I tried tofu and quorn. Tofu is something I've always tried to be hopeful about. I've always thought I don't cook it right. After years of trying I realised that actually, I just really don't like it. Texture, flavour or lack of. It's just not nice. As for quorn. I didn't mind it in small doses. Burgers were reasonable, as was the mince. But it just doesn't taste or feel the same as meet. Veggie burgers made from mashed potato, chopped carrots, beans etc, I just think - why? It's not meat, it too laden with carbs and gives me indigestion. Veggie sausages are okay. But I'm hard pressed to identify what goes into them, which makes me equally suspicious of them as regular sausages. There was a thing called veggie bacon, which looked so dodgy I steered well clear and I haven't seen it since. A good veggie friend of mine said when she cooked it disintegrated in the frying pan.
So in my mind, food substitution doesn't work. You're just better off eating something completely different.
It got me thinking about other things we have in our lives that are substitutions. Laminate flooring. Apparently cheaper than proper wooden flooring and you can't mop it, have it in areas which are likely to get wet and you shouldn't walk on it with high heeled shoes. I'd rather have the real wood. You can always sand the bugger if it gets pitted.
Can you think of any examples where substitutions actually work?
However, I do quite like a bowl of museli every now and then. If I do have it with cow's milk, it now tastes rank. Bleugh. Someone said, try goat's milk. Which I have. It's not bad, considering and it does have a bit of a tang, but when I ran it past Viking - you should have seen his face. Absolute disgust doesn't quite convey the lack of enthusiasm he has for it. I'm a great believer in compromise, so I try and make sure he has his cow's milk when he comes to visit.
But it got me thinking, what else could I try? Soy milk immediately comes to mind, but I've had it in the past and was not impressed. I also would rather not have it in the house because it's been linked to lower sperm levels in men and as I keep telling Boy, I'm eagerly awaiting grandchildren (not right away though - yes I realise he's knocking on a bit in Chav terms, but I'd rather he left school and got a job first - how middle class am I?).
It got me thinking about substitution and does it really work? When I was a veggie I tried tofu and quorn. Tofu is something I've always tried to be hopeful about. I've always thought I don't cook it right. After years of trying I realised that actually, I just really don't like it. Texture, flavour or lack of. It's just not nice. As for quorn. I didn't mind it in small doses. Burgers were reasonable, as was the mince. But it just doesn't taste or feel the same as meet. Veggie burgers made from mashed potato, chopped carrots, beans etc, I just think - why? It's not meat, it too laden with carbs and gives me indigestion. Veggie sausages are okay. But I'm hard pressed to identify what goes into them, which makes me equally suspicious of them as regular sausages. There was a thing called veggie bacon, which looked so dodgy I steered well clear and I haven't seen it since. A good veggie friend of mine said when she cooked it disintegrated in the frying pan.
So in my mind, food substitution doesn't work. You're just better off eating something completely different.
It got me thinking about other things we have in our lives that are substitutions. Laminate flooring. Apparently cheaper than proper wooden flooring and you can't mop it, have it in areas which are likely to get wet and you shouldn't walk on it with high heeled shoes. I'd rather have the real wood. You can always sand the bugger if it gets pitted.
Can you think of any examples where substitutions actually work?
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Walk On
To those marching on Parliament today, the men and women whose bravery continues to go unnoticed: good on you for demonstrating. Good luck. My thoughts will be with you, even if I will not.
I found this article on BBC Online interesting. Made me seethe in places, but that's just because I'm a stroppy girlfriend of a copper, who's life seems to be spent filling in forms in triplicate/quadruplicate, who's much happier out and about talking to people, doing his job rather than filling in the tick-boxes that will ultimately lead to the destruction of yet another patch of rain forest.
I'm sorry, I've got to go to work and every time I try and finish this post, it goes off on a complete rant. I do try to be calm and measured in my arguments, but today, everytime I try, I get more pissed off and end up practically shouting at the poor computer.
Apparently, the police fed has warned that anti-police groups may try to disrupt the march today, and those marching must not respond to taunts.
Business as usual then.
I found this article on BBC Online interesting. Made me seethe in places, but that's just because I'm a stroppy girlfriend of a copper, who's life seems to be spent filling in forms in triplicate/quadruplicate, who's much happier out and about talking to people, doing his job rather than filling in the tick-boxes that will ultimately lead to the destruction of yet another patch of rain forest.
I'm sorry, I've got to go to work and every time I try and finish this post, it goes off on a complete rant. I do try to be calm and measured in my arguments, but today, everytime I try, I get more pissed off and end up practically shouting at the poor computer.
Apparently, the police fed has warned that anti-police groups may try to disrupt the march today, and those marching must not respond to taunts.
Business as usual then.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Meme and Only Meme
Level 1
(x ) Smoked a cigarette.
(x ) Smoked a cigar.
(x) Kissed a member of the same sex.
(x) Drank alcohol.
Level 2
(x) Are/been in love.
(x) Been dumped.
() Shoplifted.
() Been fired.
() Been in a fist fight.
Level 3
(x) Had a crush on an older person.
() Skipped school.
() Slept with a classmate.
(x) Seen someone/something die.
Level 4
() Had/have a crush on one of your friends who is now on Facebook.
(x) Been to Paris.
() Been to Spain.
(x) Been on a plane.
(x) Thrown up from drinking.
Level 5
(x) Eaten sushi.
() Been snowboarding.
() Met someone BECAUSE of Facebook.
() Been in a mosh pit.
Level 6
(x) Been in an abusive relationship.
(x) Taken pain killers.
(x) Love/loved someone who you can't have.
(x) Laid on your back and watched cloud shapes go by.
() Made a snow angel.
Level 7
(x) Had a tea party.
(x) Flown a kite.
(x) Built a sand castle.
() Gone mudding (offroading).
(x) Played dress up.
Level 8
() Jumped into a pile of leaves.
() Gone sledging.
() Cheated while playing a game.
(x) Been lonely.
() Fallen asleep at work/school.
Level 9
(x) Watched the sun set.
(x) Felt an earthquake.
() Killed a snake.
Level 10
(x) Been tickled.
() Been robbed/vandalized.
(x) Been cheated on.
(x) Been misunderstood.
Level 11
() Won a contest.
() Been suspended from school.
(x)Had detention.
(x) Been in a car/motorcycle accident.
Level 12
(x) Had/have braces.
() Eaten a whole pint of ice cream in one night.
(x) Danced in the moonlight.
Level 13
(x) Hated the way you look.
() Witnessed a crime.
() Pole danced.
(x) Questioned your heart.
(x) Been obsessed with post-it-notes.
Level 14
(x) Squished barefoot through the mud.
(x) Been lost.
(x) Been to the opposite side of the world.
(x) Swam in the ocean.
(x) Felt like you were dying.
Level 15
(x) Cried yourself to sleep.
(x) Played cops and robbers.
() Recently colored with crayons/colored pencils/markers.
() Sang karaoke.
(x) Paid for a meal with only coins.
Level 16
(x) Done something you told yourself you wouldn't.
(x) Made prank phone calls.
(x) Laughed until some kind of beverage came out of your nose.
() Kissed in the rain.
Level 17
(x) Written a letter to Santa Claus.
() Watched the sun set/sun rise with someone you care/cared about.
(x) Blown bubbles.
(x) Made a bonfire on the beach or anywhere.
Level 18
() Crashed A Party.
() Have travelled more than 5 days with a car full of people.
(x) Gone rollerskating/blading.
(x) Had a wish come true.
(x) Slept with a member of the same sex.
Level 19
() Worn pearls.
() Jumped off a bridge.
(x) Screamed "penis" or "vagina".
() Swam with dolphins.
Level 20
(x) Got your tongue stuck to a pole/freezer/ice cube.
() Kissed a fish.
(x) Worn the opposite sex's clothes.
() Sat on a roof top.
Level 21
(x) Screamed at the top of your lungs.
() Done/attempted a one-handed cartwheel.
() Talked on the phone for more than six hours (in one day).
(x) Recently stayed up for a while talking to someone you care about.
Level 22
(x) Picked and ate an apple right off the tree.
(x) Climbed a tree.
(x) Had/been in a tree house.
(x) Been scared to watch scary movies alone.
Level 23
(x) Believed in ghosts.
(x) Have had more than thirty pairs of shoes (not necessarily all at once).
(x) Gone streaking.
(x) Visited jail.
Level 24
() Played chicken.
() Been pushed into a pool with all your clothes on.
() Been told you're hot by a complete stranger.
() Broken a bone.
(x) Been easily amused.
Level 25
(x) Caught a fish then ate it later.
() Made a porn video.
(x) Caught A Butterfly.
(x) Laughed so hard you cried.
() Cried so hard you laughed.
Level 26
() Mooned/flashed someone.
() Had someone moon/flash you.
() Cheated on a test.
(x) Forgotten someone's name.
() French braided someone’s hair.
(x) Gone skinny dipping.
() Been kicked out of your house.
() Tried to hurt yourself.
Level 27
(x) Rode a roller coaster.
() Went scuba-diving/snorkelling.
(x) Had a cavity.
() Black-mailed someone.
() Been black mailed.
Level 28
(x) Been used.
(x) Fell going up the stairs.
() Licked a cat.
(x) Bitten someone.
(x) Licked someone - not in private places...
Level 29
() Been shot at/or at gunpoint.
() Had sex in the rain.
() Flattened someone’s tires.
(x) Rode your car/truck until the gas light came on.
() Got five dollars or less worth of gas.
I'm sure I've answered some of these questions before...but it was fun...now it's your turn.
(x ) Smoked a cigarette.
(x ) Smoked a cigar.
(x) Kissed a member of the same sex.
(x) Drank alcohol.
Level 2
(x) Are/been in love.
(x) Been dumped.
() Shoplifted.
() Been fired.
() Been in a fist fight.
Level 3
(x) Had a crush on an older person.
() Skipped school.
() Slept with a classmate.
(x) Seen someone/something die.
Level 4
() Had/have a crush on one of your friends who is now on Facebook.
(x) Been to Paris.
() Been to Spain.
(x) Been on a plane.
(x) Thrown up from drinking.
Level 5
(x) Eaten sushi.
() Been snowboarding.
() Met someone BECAUSE of Facebook.
() Been in a mosh pit.
Level 6
(x) Been in an abusive relationship.
(x) Taken pain killers.
(x) Love/loved someone who you can't have.
(x) Laid on your back and watched cloud shapes go by.
() Made a snow angel.
Level 7
(x) Had a tea party.
(x) Flown a kite.
(x) Built a sand castle.
() Gone mudding (offroading).
(x) Played dress up.
Level 8
() Jumped into a pile of leaves.
() Gone sledging.
() Cheated while playing a game.
(x) Been lonely.
() Fallen asleep at work/school.
Level 9
(x) Watched the sun set.
(x) Felt an earthquake.
() Killed a snake.
Level 10
(x) Been tickled.
() Been robbed/vandalized.
(x) Been cheated on.
(x) Been misunderstood.
Level 11
() Won a contest.
() Been suspended from school.
(x)Had detention.
(x) Been in a car/motorcycle accident.
Level 12
(x) Had/have braces.
() Eaten a whole pint of ice cream in one night.
(x) Danced in the moonlight.
Level 13
(x) Hated the way you look.
() Witnessed a crime.
() Pole danced.
(x) Questioned your heart.
(x) Been obsessed with post-it-notes.
Level 14
(x) Squished barefoot through the mud.
(x) Been lost.
(x) Been to the opposite side of the world.
(x) Swam in the ocean.
(x) Felt like you were dying.
Level 15
(x) Cried yourself to sleep.
(x) Played cops and robbers.
() Recently colored with crayons/colored pencils/markers.
() Sang karaoke.
(x) Paid for a meal with only coins.
Level 16
(x) Done something you told yourself you wouldn't.
(x) Made prank phone calls.
(x) Laughed until some kind of beverage came out of your nose.
() Kissed in the rain.
Level 17
(x) Written a letter to Santa Claus.
() Watched the sun set/sun rise with someone you care/cared about.
(x) Blown bubbles.
(x) Made a bonfire on the beach or anywhere.
Level 18
() Crashed A Party.
() Have travelled more than 5 days with a car full of people.
(x) Gone rollerskating/blading.
(x) Had a wish come true.
(x) Slept with a member of the same sex.
Level 19
() Worn pearls.
() Jumped off a bridge.
(x) Screamed "penis" or "vagina".
() Swam with dolphins.
Level 20
(x) Got your tongue stuck to a pole/freezer/ice cube.
() Kissed a fish.
(x) Worn the opposite sex's clothes.
() Sat on a roof top.
Level 21
(x) Screamed at the top of your lungs.
() Done/attempted a one-handed cartwheel.
() Talked on the phone for more than six hours (in one day).
(x) Recently stayed up for a while talking to someone you care about.
Level 22
(x) Picked and ate an apple right off the tree.
(x) Climbed a tree.
(x) Had/been in a tree house.
(x) Been scared to watch scary movies alone.
Level 23
(x) Believed in ghosts.
(x) Have had more than thirty pairs of shoes (not necessarily all at once).
(x) Gone streaking.
(x) Visited jail.
Level 24
() Played chicken.
() Been pushed into a pool with all your clothes on.
() Been told you're hot by a complete stranger.
() Broken a bone.
(x) Been easily amused.
Level 25
(x) Caught a fish then ate it later.
() Made a porn video.
(x) Caught A Butterfly.
(x) Laughed so hard you cried.
() Cried so hard you laughed.
Level 26
() Mooned/flashed someone.
() Had someone moon/flash you.
() Cheated on a test.
(x) Forgotten someone's name.
() French braided someone’s hair.
(x) Gone skinny dipping.
() Been kicked out of your house.
() Tried to hurt yourself.
Level 27
(x) Rode a roller coaster.
() Went scuba-diving/snorkelling.
(x) Had a cavity.
() Black-mailed someone.
() Been black mailed.
Level 28
(x) Been used.
(x) Fell going up the stairs.
() Licked a cat.
(x) Bitten someone.
(x) Licked someone - not in private places...
Level 29
() Been shot at/or at gunpoint.
() Had sex in the rain.
() Flattened someone’s tires.
(x) Rode your car/truck until the gas light came on.
() Got five dollars or less worth of gas.
***
I'm sure I've answered some of these questions before...but it was fun...now it's your turn.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
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.
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.
Monday, January 14, 2008
Family
Please visit this link from Inspector Gadget's site.
The simplified version: there's a young lad Jack, whose parents are serving police officers, he suffers from a rare from of childhood cancer. It's so rare that successful treatment can only be had in a specialist centre in the US. The treatment costs hundreds of thousands of pounds. That's the bad news. The good news is that if Jack goes through the treatment, the statistics are heavily in his favour. He will likely remain cancer free. He's only 5 and needs all the help and support we can give.
After all, he's part of our family, and we help our own.
The simplified version: there's a young lad Jack, whose parents are serving police officers, he suffers from a rare from of childhood cancer. It's so rare that successful treatment can only be had in a specialist centre in the US. The treatment costs hundreds of thousands of pounds. That's the bad news. The good news is that if Jack goes through the treatment, the statistics are heavily in his favour. He will likely remain cancer free. He's only 5 and needs all the help and support we can give.
After all, he's part of our family, and we help our own.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Bad Hair Week
I thought things were going to calm down after *christmas* and things would get back to normal. I thought I was going to have an opportunity to breathe and get my head around things after the C word. I thought by the middle of January, I was going to have re-charged my batteries, I would be working as many hours as I could scrounge and things would have eased.
I was wrong.
We've gone from *christmas* to Sale to annual stock take. The nightmare continues. I'm up to my eyeballs in paperwork, that I am constantly missing important bits of information for, my reps aren't returning my calls; and then customers want serving.
Except, that the few customers we've got, are rude, obnoxious or just plain stupid.
Let me tell you a little bit about our stock situation at the moment, as in, we have very little of anything. The shoppers during the festive season have pretty much wiped us out of all the popular fragrance lines (though you can still get Gwen Steffani's LAMB and Sarah Jessica Parker's Covet, oh and Britney, we have lots of her fragrances still in stock). No Marc Jacobs Daisy, no Lanvin's Arpege or Eclat d'Arpege, no Paul Smith Rose, no D&G Light Blue. Not for you my dear. There are two reasons why we won't be immediately stocking up. One, it's our stock take in a few days time, the Powers that Be want as little stock in store, so no orders to be placed/delivered before February and two, we aren't the only people who've had time off, which means the manufacturers and distributors are running behind.
Unfortunately, our customers seem to take this as a personal affront. The way they act, it's as if I am withholding said fragrance from them, because I am a complete bitch. How very dare I? Don't I know they're my best customer?
Then we have the Sale Confusion. Our department store does not do store wide 10% off, like other department stores (like Debenhams, for example); the fragrance section only discounts unsold gift sets and discontinued lines. One particularly vile woman, dressed in fake fur, with make-up done by Circus Clown Inc, pounced on me. She demanded to know why was there a fragrance tester for a line, of which there was only a solitary box of shower gel left. My explanation that the tester was out so that a buyer might see what the shower gel might smell like, fell on stony ground. As did my explanation that the other items in the fragrance line had been sold. And no, discontinued meant we weren't going to get any more of that fragrance in again.
My colleagues let me go to lunch 10 minutes early because my temper was beginning to show through. A couple of women staggered in.
"I'm looking for my favourite perfume. Can't remember what it's called. Think it begins with 'G'. It's in a round bottle."
The fumes from their lunch-time drinkies nearly blinded me, but I did manage to find her most favouritest perfume in the world. Omnia Crystalline, by Bulgari.
Well, she was close; there was a 'g' in the name.
I was wrong.
We've gone from *christmas* to Sale to annual stock take. The nightmare continues. I'm up to my eyeballs in paperwork, that I am constantly missing important bits of information for, my reps aren't returning my calls; and then customers want serving.
Except, that the few customers we've got, are rude, obnoxious or just plain stupid.
Let me tell you a little bit about our stock situation at the moment, as in, we have very little of anything. The shoppers during the festive season have pretty much wiped us out of all the popular fragrance lines (though you can still get Gwen Steffani's LAMB and Sarah Jessica Parker's Covet, oh and Britney, we have lots of her fragrances still in stock). No Marc Jacobs Daisy, no Lanvin's Arpege or Eclat d'Arpege, no Paul Smith Rose, no D&G Light Blue. Not for you my dear. There are two reasons why we won't be immediately stocking up. One, it's our stock take in a few days time, the Powers that Be want as little stock in store, so no orders to be placed/delivered before February and two, we aren't the only people who've had time off, which means the manufacturers and distributors are running behind.
Unfortunately, our customers seem to take this as a personal affront. The way they act, it's as if I am withholding said fragrance from them, because I am a complete bitch. How very dare I? Don't I know they're my best customer?
Then we have the Sale Confusion. Our department store does not do store wide 10% off, like other department stores (like Debenhams, for example); the fragrance section only discounts unsold gift sets and discontinued lines. One particularly vile woman, dressed in fake fur, with make-up done by Circus Clown Inc, pounced on me. She demanded to know why was there a fragrance tester for a line, of which there was only a solitary box of shower gel left. My explanation that the tester was out so that a buyer might see what the shower gel might smell like, fell on stony ground. As did my explanation that the other items in the fragrance line had been sold. And no, discontinued meant we weren't going to get any more of that fragrance in again.
My colleagues let me go to lunch 10 minutes early because my temper was beginning to show through. A couple of women staggered in.
"I'm looking for my favourite perfume. Can't remember what it's called. Think it begins with 'G'. It's in a round bottle."
The fumes from their lunch-time drinkies nearly blinded me, but I did manage to find her most favouritest perfume in the world. Omnia Crystalline, by Bulgari.
Well, she was close; there was a 'g' in the name.
Sunday, January 06, 2008
Seven Things
I was reading Random Acts of Reality (as I do) and featured was a meme that took on a life of it's own. So I thought I'd spread the love and see what 7 random things you, my readers would chose to tell me and each other. For any of you lurkers, this is especially for you, de-cloak and share. To get you started, here are 7 random things about me today (if you follow the link, you'll see my original random 7, but I'm trying to be original).
1. I'm not into extreme sports. Or anything that might end with pain or death. Plummetting out of a perfectly good aircraft with a bit of silk strapped to my back is not my idea of a good time.
2. I want to learn how to ride a horse properly, rather than bounce around on a hack. It's on my list of things to do.
3. I STILL don't know what I want to do when I grow up.
4. I only miss having a car when I want to go to the beach, or to the woods.
5. Being skint has made me more environmentally friendly.
6. I am very partial to men in uniform (could you tell).
7. If the flat was on fire I'd save Boy, the cat and my 3 and a half book cases full of books.
1. I'm not into extreme sports. Or anything that might end with pain or death. Plummetting out of a perfectly good aircraft with a bit of silk strapped to my back is not my idea of a good time.
2. I want to learn how to ride a horse properly, rather than bounce around on a hack. It's on my list of things to do.
3. I STILL don't know what I want to do when I grow up.
4. I only miss having a car when I want to go to the beach, or to the woods.
5. Being skint has made me more environmentally friendly.
6. I am very partial to men in uniform (could you tell).
7. If the flat was on fire I'd save Boy, the cat and my 3 and a half book cases full of books.
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