It's all over now ...

My last day at work proved, once and for all, that I have made the right decision to leave.

Bearing in mind I organised the Christmas lunch, for 65 people, designed and printed all the place settings (with reminder menus on the back and jokes inside in case the cracker jokes weren't bad enough) organised the Secret Santa and the coach there and back, and managed to fit it all into the budget, oh, AND sourced the Santa suit AND made them a deal so that they could keep the suit for next year when I wouldn't be there to organize it ...

Bearing all that in mind, I was expecting a little more from the MD than, 'This time last year ... down-hearted ... didn't get contract ... blah blah ... Linda's leaving ... This time next year ... new contract ... blah blah ... Eat up everyone!'

Wanker.

I've made some great friends at the University. They clubbed together for the most wonderful designer jewellry for me that I love. I miss some of them already and it's been less than 10 days! But, on the whole, I'm glad to go - not because of the people, not because of the pay or the benefits or the holiday, but because of my line manager, Nick, and the one Senior Programme Manager who actually gave me any work, Joy. Joy has such a low opinion of herself and her ability that she projected that onto me from the word go, and assumed I would be incapable of doing the slightest task without constant supervision. Of course, one rises to expectations, and one also falls to them - whatever I did for her seemed to go wrong, and I maintain that if she'd left me to get on with it in the first place we wouldn't have had the problems we did.

But that's all in the past. This time next week I shall have completed my first week at my new job. I'm really a bit anxious about it because I always go into a new job with high hopes and last time - at the University - my hopes were dashed from day one.

I've had a very happy Christmas and I'm looking forward to a happy new year. I wish you all one, too.

xxx

Knit one, purl one

I used to knit a lot when I lived in Paris but since I've been back in England I've hardly done any knitting, and recently gave away all my needles. On a pre-Christmas visit to a friend I noticed a short piece of knitting on a pair of needles - full of holes and dropped stitches. Sue was teaching her grand-daughter to knit, and I started to think it would be nice and relaxing to knit something in front of the telly of an evening.

The following day I went to visit my Aunty, who also had a piece of knitting on a pair of needles. It was the most glorious, fluffy wool and (obviously a sign I'm getting old!) I got very very excited about this scarf she was knitting, so she kindly gave me 2 balls and a pair of needles. Less than 48 hours later, I've already knitted up one ball and started on the second, my repetitive strain injury is back with a vengeance in my right wrist, and I've bid on enough for 3 more scarves on Ebay ... guess what everyone is getting for Christmas next year?

I don't have any room for more hobbies! I don't have time for any more hobbies, but there is something very comforting about sitting in front of the television, watching this scarf grow, and wondering what colour to knit next.

Anyone want to buy a scarf? Could this be my next money-spinner, like the wooden rosebuds and the Peruvian jewellery? Hmmm, bearing in mind the hundreds of wooden rosebuds that are still unsold, and the dozens of pairs of earrings that I still have left over, perhaps I shouldn't have been on those 6 balls of wool ...

Friday night is music night ...

A little shared memory of my Mum in the title. Friday night on Radio 2 has been, for all my living memory anyway, 'music night', with a programme of oh, I don't know, old stuff that your mum listened to. Mum always listened and I always groaned, 'What are you listening to this rubbish for?'

Anyway, Friday night is quite often music night for me because I seem to have gone to quite a few concerts over the past few years, and last night was no exception. Well, it was a concert/ 40th birthday party combined. James was 40 and invited friends and fans to his birthday bash in Woking, with Sailor as the live entertainment - a kind of birthday present to all the guests.

'James? James?' I hear you muttering. 'She's never mentioned a James before.'

James is Sailor's and Georg Kajanus' official biographer, a Sailor fan, and a thoroughly nice chap, and before you switch off, this is not a review of the concert because that belongs on a site for Sailor fans who will appreciate it (not like you philistines!)

I had the day off work (the first of many in the run up to Christmas, as I have several days' leave to take plus overtime hours to use up: I've only got 4 working days before Wednesday 20th, when it's our Christmas lunch and my last day!) and went and got a hair-cut. No-one sniggered in the salon when Lynne asked me, 'What are we going for then?' and I replied, 'Well, you know Lulu?' I must say, it looked fantastic when Lynne had finished with me, although whether or not I can keep the style, I don't know! Lots of straightening and flicking involved and I'm not exactly skilled or patient ... We'll see!

After that I dropped into the beauty salon where my good friend Swims With Crocodiles had topped up my account as a birthday present. A new beauty therapist came out from the back and she was someone I used to work with many, many moons ago. 'My God!' she exclaimed, 'you haven't changed at all!' That was an ego-boost, because it was 15 years and 5 stone ago! So I had a treatment with her and caught up on a lot of news about former colleagues, and booked up another treatment for the day before my last day (I love saying my last day!) then did a bit of shopping and came home to get ready for the concert.

Anyone ever been to Woking? Anyone ever been to Woking on a multi-map internet route-plan? Don't. Seriously, I ended up in a church hall asking directions to this place everyone told me I couldn't miss. Half an hour later I seriously contemplated going back to the church hall and spending the evening there! Eventually I made it and had a several nice surprises - one was Susanne, a German friend who had come over and I hadn't got her e-mail to say she was coming. It was lovely to see her, especially when she said I looked fantastic and so much better than in the summer and had I lost weight? (Music to my ears, even though I hadn't!)

I also spoke briefly to a girl I'd met a couple of times back in the 70s at Sailor concerts. I didn't like her much then and, I discovered, I didn't like her any more when I met her again! She always seemed very hard and the years haven't softened her any. (I know, it's bitchy of me, but this is my blog!) She made some very stupid comments about the band, and that didn't endear her to me either!

I said earlier that I wouldn't go on about the band, so I won't, suffice it to say that they were brilliant - and I didn't know that I would be able to say that honestly again now that Pete has left and Ollie has taken his place as lead singer.

It was wonderful to see the original lead singer Georg, and his partner Barbie, who had come to celebrate James' birthday, and see the band perform for the first time since Georg left about 12 years ago. I'd met them in the summer and it was lovely that they remembered me.

The journey home was as bad as the journey there. I got very clear directions back to the car-park but of course what the person forgot was that the doors through the shopping mall to the carpark were locked by this time. It took me 35 minutes to get to the car because I had to go the long way round. If the mall had been open it would have taken me 10. I then got into the wrong lane and ended up doing another tour of Woking before getting onto the right road for the M3 and then it was plain sailing until a mile from home, when a police van pulled in behind me. I switched the radio off and checked my speed - no, I wasn't speeding. I turned off the main road onto the road that leads to my estate. Police followed at a not-very-discreet distance. They followed me as I turned into 4 different roads and into my own, which is a cul-de-sac. I turned into my drive. They stopped across the road and a young (rather good-looking!) officer got out. I asked if anything was the matter and he apologised if they'd frightened me by following me all that time, but they were on a call to 'an incident' in my road and couldn't help noticing my brake light was out and thought they'd better point it out to me because (wink from officer) the police could stop me for that and I could be fined £30. What a very very nice policeman!

So ... a long-winded story of my Friday night/early Saturday morning. I got in at 2am, too alert and too hungry to sleep, so I had some toast, checked emails etc until 3.30 and then went to bed, 'tired but happy' as all good school essays say.

I decided some time ago that I really couldn't afford to go and see Sailor in Munich in February but ... after seeing them last night ... Where did I put that lottery ticket?

I did it!

I handed in my notice. My soon-to-be-ex line manager didn't seem surprised and we discussed it very calmly. I gave him my letter of confirmation and when he read it his face fell when he got to the final paragraph, which basically put the blame on him - which is where it belongs! If it weren't for him, I wouldn't be leaving. If I'd had a more supportive line manager, who gave a damn about me, my career and my development, I'd have been more than happy to sit here and work for a few hours a day and then play on the internet for the rest of the time and collect what is, after all, a reasonable salary at a place with a good pension, not far from home, good holidays and a very flexible attitude to working hours.

My new job is miles away, the working week is longer, the holidays aren't as good and they don't have flexi-time. The new salary will all be swallowed up in travel costs and I'll need to change my car sooner than I'd planned, so I don't think pointing the finger at my line manager is too unreasonable.

Anyway, what's done is done, and I'm looking forward to a proper job in the new year, one where I don't spend my days trying to find things to do and being hassled about faulty toilet flushes and flickering lights.

I would like to be a fly on the wall, though, when the Big Bosses call my line manager in to talk to him about why I'm leaving ... Who, dear? Me, dear? Vindictive, dear? Yes, dear!

2.5 hours to go ...

... before I hand in my notice. I'm more nervous than the first time I met the boys from Sailor! How silly is that? I'm going to tell a little prat that I'm not taking his crap any more and that's all! Nothing to be afraid of ... is there? It's not like he's going to burst into tears and beg me to stay. Mind you, that would give me the opportunity to laugh in his smelly beardy face ...

Counting down ...

Contract's finally come for my new job and although I haven't had the chance to read through it thoroughly yet, at first glance all looks fine. I can now count down to when I hand in my notice ... and then to when I leave!

It's all very exciting, and I've got that 'end of term' feeling - I think I should be bringing in games for the next few weeks rather than working. I've got the usual crap jobs to do and I really can't be arsed, but I know I will leave everything in totally perfect condition for the next poor sod who joins the company thinking this is going to be a good job.

I wonder if anyone will volunteer to do Children in Need next year? I wonder if anyone will get people together to do the Race for Life? I wonder if there will be a Christmas event? Maybe, although I wouldn't be surprised if all the fun is squashed when I go.

I'm so looking forward to handing in my notice to my total asshole of a line manager and it will be very hard not to simply throw the envelope down on the desk in front of him and tell him to fuck off - I know I'd never do that, but it is soooo tempting!

Anyway, another chapter of my life about to close, and a better one (I hope and pray!) about to start!