Recce to Gran Canaria

Sunrise outside my hotel window in Gran Canaria

After Marseille was my ‘recce’ to Gran Canaria. It was tough, having to stay in a 5-star hotel and visit several others and go out dolphin-watching and trying out nice restaurants … I’d never been to the Canary Islands before and I didn’t really know what to expect, and I would like to have more time there to look around. It was quite lonely, really, and I did stick out like a sore thumb in the hotel dining room – the only woman on her own. It was funny how the waiters gave me a wide berth, obviously thinking I must be waiting for someone and therefore not ready to order! A friend of mine, in her early fifties, said that when you get to a certain age you become invisible. I don’t like that idea at all!

The conference itself commences 17 December. I still have so much to do! The hardest part is getting restaurants for the group in the evening: when I was out there for my 'inspection' tour I ate in the hotel restaurants every lunchtime except one day, and that restaurant is too far away to choose as an evening venue, so I'm booking based on internet reviews and just hoping that I can get through to them - so far no joy with emails and faxes, so I'm just going to have to pick up the 'phone and say 'hola' and hope to find someone on the other end who speaks English! I've booked myself a Reiki massage at the hotel the day after the conference, because I think I shall be in serious need of stress relief by the time it's over!

Catch-up on Marseille

Oh, so much has happened since I last blogged! So this is just a short catch-up on my trip to Marseille in early October.

Of course, when I booked the flight, I didn't know that the rugby was on that weekend, which was why it was so hard to get a room. The hotel we did find, however, was great. Small, clean, simple, cheap(ish) and about 50 yards from the port - we couldn't have been better placed. It was hot and sunny, so there was a lot of sitting down at pavement cafés to drink something refreshing (panaché, white wine or kir did the trick - frequently!) as well as a little bit of sight-seeing. We went across the the Chateau d'If, the French equivalent to Alcatraz, and then to another small island for a leisurely lunch (and a drink!) before heading back to the mainland.

It seems a long time ago now, but it was great, and I would definitely go back again. With the schedule of flights, it is possible to go there for lunch and back in the same day!

Hello!

For some reason, I keep getting German prompts saying 'You have successfully published your post.' Trouble is that I didn't post anything except the first letter of something terribly witty before the internet took over and posted 'stuff' in my name.

Never mind. I'm off on holiday! I'm going to Marseille and NO, I had NO idea about the rugby when I book my flight. I wondered why it was so hard to get an hotel. Anyway, I'll post when I get back!

End of an era

I lived and worked in Paris for 6 years in the 80s. It was a time of high unemployment in the UK, and although I was ready to come back to England, I wanted to have a job to come to. In January of 1987 I had an interview with Thierry Cabanne, who ran a small winebrokers in Winchester, and by the time I had returned to my office in Paris, he had already rung my boss there to get a reference. This was a little embarrassing, as I hadn't told my boss I was thinking of leaving! I had 3 months' notice to give on my flat, so during April my brother and future sister-in-law came over in a van to take my stuff back to England. For the last couple of weeks I slept on a roll-up mattress on the floor, then packed up my final belongings and returned to Southampton at the end of the month, and started work with Thierry's and Tatham on Tuesday 4 May, after the bank holiday Monday.

The early years were great fun, and although the last few months there were traumatic because of people I won't name and for reasons I won't go into here, on the whole I loved my time at Thierry's. I met some great people, some of whom I am still in touch with 20 years later, and my five years there paved the way to further work in the wine trade, where I made more good friends.

Last night I learned that Thierry Cabanne had been killed in a car accident last week, and it's made me very sad. Although it's been 15 years since I left, the company was always there, Thierry was there, and that meant, to me at least, that a part of my history was still alive. I never knew the current crop of directors there: now Thierry has gone, so have all my links with the company, and with that era of my life.

RIP Thierry. I really enjoyed working with you when you were starting out and there were 9 of us in a renovated pub in Winchester. Happy days! The wine world will miss you, and so will I.

Guess which dwarf?

Yes, you've guessed, I'm Sneezy today. Actually, 'bunged up and drippy' would be more accurate as I haven't actually sneezed that much. My nose has been like a permanently running tap since about noon on Saturday: I spent Sunday in bed feeling very sorry for myself, and today I'm feeling equally fed up (and snotty). The colleague who kindly passed the cold on to me ('that's what friends do,' she said, 'they share') assures me that the snotty/sneezy stage only lasts a couple of days, and then it's onto the hacking cough. Terrific, I can't wait. And isn't it bloody typical? I've got a day off sick but the weather is too cold and overcast to put a deckchair out in the garden and feel sorry for myself in the sun. Oh well, a day off work is not to be sneezed at. Ha ha.

Bring me the head of ... AOL

I've been a bit of a grumpy old woman for some days now, not helped by the blatant lie told by a friend of mine by text on my birthday: 'The postal strike means you won't get your card on your birthday.' No dear, the fact that you didn't even post my card until the day after my birthday means I won't get my card on my birthday! Doh!

Anyway, I usually save any complaints I have to make until I'm feeling, well, grumpy, because that way I'm not put off by sob stories or excuses, so today was the day to call AOL and sort out why they are still charging me when I switched to Talk Talk six weeks ago.

All was going well and the customer service bod said she would reverse the payment that had gone out of my account in July.

'What about the payment that went out on 27 June?' I asked. 'Talk Talk took over my broadband provision on 26 June and have had confirmation from you that the switch took place.'

'Ah, but, your billing date is the 24th of each month,' she said.

'So you're charging me £30 for 2 days' service?'

'Well, our records show that you used the service for over 100 hours in those two days,' she said.

I smiled an evil smile and took a deep breath.

'I fail to see how I can have used the service for over 100 hours when there are only 48 hours in any two-day period,' I told her.

She didn't back down. 'That's what it says here.'

'But you do agree that there are only 24 hours in a day and, therefore, only 48 hours in 2 days?'

'Yeeees, but you must be on a network.'

No, I am not on a network, I told her, I have one computer, one connection - one protected connection so that no drive-by hacker could park outside my house and use my wireless connection. And even if someone had parked, unnoticed, outside my house for 2 days with a lap-top, that would still only be 96 hours between the invisible hacker and me.

I obviously wasn't going to get round the, 'But your billing date is the 24th of the month,' rhetoric, but I did get a cancellation number and confirmation that no further payments would be taken.

Thank goodness I won't have to have anything to do with AOL again. And thank goodness I wasn't on a pay-per-use contract with them - being charged 50 hours a day would have made using the internet a pretty expensive hobby!

Which dwarf are you?

Apart from the beard and the hat, this could very easily be me. I don't remember being bitten by a tse-tse fly, but I certainly have sleeping sickness. I could sleep anywhere, any time (except at night, of course, when I'm often wide awake into the wee small hours). Yesterday and today I got up around 8am (not bad for a weekend!) but by 1pm I was napping on both days, and woke up around 6pm. That's not a siesta, that's half a night's sleep! Maybe I should take some vitamins, or eat more fruit, or at least attempt a more balanced diet. At the moment I seem to be living off sandwiches and I read somewhere that they give prisoners a high-carb diet because it slows them down. It probably wasn't true, but it's stuck in my mind, and I do feel slow most of the time.

Trouble is, I don't have time to cook, so my attempts at healthy eating don't even pass the starting blocks. Perhaps I'll make a proper shopping list and a week's menus while I'm watching the television tonight. That's if I can stay awake ...

Barcelona or bust!

When I told my friend Bunny Anne that I was going to Marseille with another friend in October there was a black hole of a silence on the other end of the 'phone. Bunny Anne has been saying for a couple of years now, 'Oh, we must get away for a bit of a break, my treat.' Of course, Bunny being Bunny, nothing has ever come of it, although she has managed to organise 'a bit of a break' for herself and other people in Morocco and Venice.

Bearing in mind the old adage, 'If you want a job done, do it yourself ' I've succumbed to another offer from my friend Ryan - Ryan Air - and called Bunny this morning at work to see if she wanted to go to Barcelona in November. I did issue the stern warning, 'You won't let me down, will you?' because she has let me down on occasions too numerous to mention and if she does it again this time that really will be it. Friendship has its limits, after all!

But I'm not thinking along those lines, I'm just thinking about what a lot I have to look forward to - early October in Marseille, early November in Barcelona and ... (sssh, it's not booked yet and 'many a slip' and all that ...) the week before Christmas in Gran Canaria with work. Yippee!

I do feel a tad guilty about my carbon footprint, however, I haven't flown anywhere in 3 years, my bin is always empty because I recycle everything, I buy 'green' and I don't leave anything on standby, and after these 3 trips this year I probably won't be able to afford to go anywhere for the next five!

Marseille, here I come!

Marseille, here we come!

Well, after going through three different telephone 'menus' and holding on for 14 minutes on the 'help' line to the bank yesterday morning, a chirpy little girl called Jade (pronounced Jide) told me that my card had been refused for a deposit on an hotel. I knew that, I said, that was why I was calling, to find out why it had been refused. She didn't know. I asked if she could put me through to someone who could and she said she'd put me through to the internet helpline. I hung on for another four minutes before hearing the same telephone options as I had done 18 minutes earlier. At 29 minutes (it's helpful to have a phone that times the call. It's so much easier to be indignant when you know the exact amount of time you've been on hold) a familiar voice chirped, 'You're frew to customer services, this is Jide speakin', 'ow may I 'elp yooooo?' So much for getting through to internet banking... Jide was still unable to help me but did say that if the transaction had been refused it was probably because someone had entered the wrong information. We went through my information on the phone. It was all correct. Well, that was a half hour of my life wasted ...

So I made a fourth attempt to book the hotel in Marseille on the internet, and even 'phoned them up to tell them I was booking again. After a nice little chat with the monsieur who answered the 'phone and assured me that they would hold the room for me even if my credit card didn't work, the transaction went through with no problem. Yippee! It may only be 4 days in Marseille in October but it's been several years since I've had a proper holiday. I've had the odd 2-day break 'sur le continent' but they've been specifically to see concerts, and have involved a flight, a taxi ride, a concert, an hotel, a taxi ride and a flight home. Not what you'd call a holiday! So I'm really looking forward to going away and am already planning clothes, shoes, holiday reading, and all the different sights that I want to see.

Four days isn't going to be enough, but it's a start!

Race for Life

Over 10,000 women walked/ran/stumbled around the Race for Life course on Southampton Common yesterday lunchtime to raise funds for Cancer Research UK, and I was proud to be one of them. When I dragged myself out of bed in the morning I thought that it was the last thing I wanted to do, and that it would be my last year (it was my third) but when I got there and read everyone's dedications and saw the fancy dress outfits and listened to people talking as we were going round I knew I'd be doing it again next year! And, as every year, I swore to myself I'd get fit and run round, or at least jog a bit. My excuse for walking this year was that I was walking with a friend of mine who had persuaded her 80-year-old mother to take part, and I couldn't leave them behind, could I? Actually, at one point, it was as much as I could do to keep up with the older lady - she was surprisingly fit!

So I came home feeling quite buoyed up and positive, only to put my 'Grumpy' head back on when I got an email from the hotel I've been trying to book for a mini-break at the end of the year to say that my credit card had been refused AGAIN. I know I've given the right details. I know the card works because I use it for my regular shopping, so NatWest Card Services are going to be given the benefit of my displeasure if they cannot come up with a suitable explanation and, of course, profuse apologies.

Watch this space, as nothing in my life is straightforward at the moment!

La Vie En Rose

No, not ma vie en rose, ma vie is anything but rose at the moment, more like darkest noir, however ...

I went to see La Vie En Rose this evening, the marvellous new film about the life of 'La Môme', Edith Piaf. If you don't like your emotions being hit by a sledgehammer, if you don't like drama and tragedy, if you don't like the music of Edith Piaf, if you don't like subtitles and you don't speak French, if you don't like long movies, don't go.

If, like me, you love all things French, love the music, love the huge spectacle, then go and see this film. Do not wear mascara (unless of the waterproof variety) and do take tissues. Go to a late showing so that it's dark when you come out and no-one can see your tear-stained face.

To (partially) quote Norma Desmond, 'It's the pictures that got small.' La Vie En Rose is a return to the big picture.

I wasn't particularly grumpy this morning when I put on my Grumpy T-shirt (it's dress-down Friday here at the coal-face). I wasn't grumpy at all driving in because, miraculously, there was very little traffic and I got here in half an hour instead of the usual 40 minutes. I did become very grumpy, very quickly, however, when I got into the office and found the triffids had landed. Having been in our new building for 6 months we'd got used to the idea that we'd only have plants in reception, where visitors could see them, but the Board of Directors is coming over next week from the US, so we have to look all smart, and that means that, overnight, huge corporate plants have popped up in the most inappropriate of places. Like between my desk and my colleague's, so that we can't get to the window to close the blinds against the sun (when it chooses to shine). The plants are too heavy to move and, perversely, the sun is shining now after a month of rain, and I'm squinting at the screen, getting hotter and crosser. It's like a bloody greenhouse in here. I'm hoping that they will all go back once the BoD has gone.

I'm also pretty grumpy because I've had such a hectic 3 weeks - this will be the first weekend in 3 that I haven't worked - I was hoping for an easy day, but alas, it's not to be. Some of the BoD hangers-on have changed their minds about when they're going to London and when they're going home, so there's going to be a last-minute flurry of activity on my part, booking dinners and cars and hotels. So much for a lazy day! And I'm going out tonight. Right now it's the last thing I feel like doing ... Hey ho, such is life.

Of should that be Hi-ho?

Is it really Sunday afternoon already?

I was going to say that I don't know where the weekend's gone, but I do know. A large part of it has gone on work. For the second weekend running I've spent Saturday in the office - well, last Saturday was 7 hours and yesterday was only 4, but on top of a massively busy week it's all a bit much. I came back via Sainsbury's to get something microwaveable for supper and when I got in at 7pm I thought I'd have a nap for an hour before Casualty at 8.10. BIG mistake. My little naps are anything but little. I should just close my eyes on the sofa, but my bed was whispering, 'Come and lie down, just for a minute, go on, you know you want to' so I did. I only woke up at 10.30 because of the laughter from the Parkinson show on television downstairs. I stumbled downstairs (over Bella) and into the kitchen, fed the poor mite and had a scone and then went to bed. Ah well, at least I was awake bright and early at ... um ... 9 this morning!

The extra activity at work is, fortunately, unusual, and is because we have more than a dozen overseas visitors for a fortnight and as well as all the logistics involved with such a large number of people, there is my normal work to do, and I'm also trying to keep a lid on things with a colleague's work - she's off poorly at the moment. I don't mind, because I know my boss will offer me time off in lieu when he finds out how hard I've been working to make the visit go smoothly.

For those of you still wondering about BCSFH, the S doesn't stand for supervisor, as I'm fortunate enough not to have one. It stands for slut. Now, I have no idea if she is a slut or not, but it makes me feel a LOT better to mutter, 'Bitch-Cow-Slut-From-Hell' under my breath whenever she gets on my nerves. In a corner of my heart, my inner child is alive and well, still lives in the playground and gets a kick out of making up nasty names. I never actually did make up nasty names as a child, I didn't need to, I got on with everyone, or so it seemed. Happy days!

I feel the urge to nap so I'd better get up and move around before I give in and wake up to find that it's tomorrow already!

BCSFH

Time to ressurect the soubriquet BCSFH - I haven't used it for anyone since about 1999 but I think it's apt...

There is a prize for guessing what BCSFH stands for!

Yes, I'm doing it again this year - Race for Life, that is! This is year three for me, and I'm determined to break into a trot at some point if I can get enough space amidst the crowds who gather on the Common in Southampton - and other venues throughout the UK - to raise awareness and funds for Cancer Research UK.

If you would like to sponsor me, you can do so through the link above or, if you prefer the good old-fashioned paper way, please email me with your name, address and postcode, and amount you'd like to sponsor me, and I'll fill in a regular form. Most importantly, please let me know if you are a UK tax-payer so that the charity can receive and extra 28% at no extra cost to you.

Thanks! I'll let you know how I get on!

The turning worm ...

Regular readers of my blog may be forgiven for thinking that I have the patience and tolerance of a goldfish (about 5 seconds). Actually I am very patient and tolerant, and maybe that's because I hate confrontation and conflict.

I 'phoned up an airline to change some tickets for my boss in the week. Without going into any detail, the conversation ended in my asking the customer 'services' person not to shout at me, and requesting her name. When I hung up there was a round of applause from the 4 people in my office. That may give you an idea of the tone the conversation took. The following day - Friday - I had an email asking me to print and bind 25 folders for a seminar starting on Monday. Great, 7 hours to produce these folders. No problem if I had nothing else to do. No problem if the person who looks after stationery hadn't been signed off for 3 weeks. So, I found some folders and was told in no uncertain terms that I couldn't have them because they belonged to someone else. Crap. They had been ordered by the person who care-took my job for a year before I arrived (but wasn't good enough to be given the job full-time, and has resented me ever since I arrived as a result!) for someone in my department, therefore, they were actually free for me to use. I ended up shopping for stationery at 6pm on Friday and going into the office for 7 hours on Saturday to prepare the effing binders.

I wasn't impressed to find that someone (the same person who wouldn't give up the files the day before) had left the filter coffee machine full of stale grounds - they had gone mouldy so I ended up with soaking clothes and ruined shoes when I went to move the machine. I emailed her and her colleague asking them to make sure they remembered to empty the coffee machines after their meetings and I got a terse email back today (Sunday!) from her colleague to say, 'It wasn't me - talk to the cleaners!' So if they have a meeting in the morning and I have one in the afternoon, I'm supposed to clear up after their meeting before I can set it up for my own? Hhhhmmmm. Am I the only one around here who has any common sense? Funnily enough the 'president's' PA has the same name as the Director's PA at the university, but this one is at least a dozen times worse than the K I worked with last year. They're both blondes, too. I wonder, is it obligatory for PAs with the initial K, of a certain age, with blonde hair (either natural or 'assisted') to be unco-operative and downright unpleasant?

I need to put my thinking cap on. This worm has put up with enough over the past 6 months. This worm is about to turn.

Yes, I'm doing it again this year - Race for Life, that is! This is year three for me, and I'm determined to break into a trot at some point if I can get enough space amidst the crowds who gather on the Common in Southampton - and other venues throughout the UK - to raise awareness and funds for Cancer Research UK.

If you would like to sponsor me, you can do so through the link above or, if you prefer the good old-fashioned paper way, please email me with your name, address and postcode, and amount you'd like to sponsor me, and I'll fill in a regular form. Most importantly, please let me know if you are a UK tax-payer so that the charity can receive and extra 28% at no extra cost to you.

Thanks! I'll let you know how I get on!

Race for Life

Yes, I'm doing it again this year - Race for Life, that is! This is year three for me, and I'm determined to break into a trot at some point if I can get enough space amidst the crowds who gather on the Common in Southampton - and other venues throughout the UK - to raise awareness and funds for Cancer Research UK.

If you would like to sponsor me, you can do so through the link above or, if you prefer the good old-fashioned paper way, please email me with your name, address and postcode, and amount you'd like to sponsor me, and I'll fill in a regular form. Most importantly, please let me know if you are a UK tax-payer so that the charity can receive and extra 28% at no extra cost to you.

Thanks! I'll let you know how I get on!

Car booty

Spring is here and all over the country people are raiding their attics and garages and wondering, 'What can I get rid of at a car boot sale this weekend?'

Not so in my house! When Spring arrives and car boot sales start popping up in fields like mushrooms, I find myself wondering, 'What bargains can I get at a car boot sale this weekend?'

I don't claim to be an expert by any means, and I'm reluctant to tell you what I look for in case you all snap up the same things and then flood Ebay but ...

Certain authors on Ebay command as much for 2nd hand books as they do for new ones. I'm not telling you who they are, do your own research! Others regularly sell for a £1 or more but can be picked up for 20p at a boot sale. Of course, you have to sell a lot of 20p books for £1 to make it worth that trip to the Post Office to send them all off, but even 80p profit can bring a smile to my face.

One of my best buys was a bottle of CK One cologne - a Christmas present for a man who took one whiff of it, decided he didn't like it and put it back in its box. I picked this up for £5 at the car boot sale and sold it for £17 on Ebay. Unfortunately, on the way to the car boot sale I was clicked by a temporary speed camera doing 36 miles an hour in a 30 mile zone (it was 8.30 on a Sunday morning and there was no-one about!) so I ended up with 3 points on a hitherto clean licence and a £60 fine - so the profit from the CK One rapidly turned into a loss! But you can see that it is quite easy to make some money if you know what you're looking for.

Of course, it's not just about making money. For me, it's the the thrill of finding a lonely plate that matches a set I have that's long since gone out of production. It's about unearthing something I normally wouldn't give house-room, but would look great at my beach-hut.

This weekend, Bunny Anne and I went scouting for old towels and blankets to line the cupboard where her cat has hidden her litter of 3 kittens. Ever since Bunny's had the cat (imaginatively - not - named Tinkerbell) I've been telling her to get the cat spayed.

'She won't get pregnant, she's only a baaaaaby,' Bunny has replied on each occasion, sometimes adding, 'I can't take time off work.'

In vain I told her to take Tink to the vet on a Friday morning on her way to work, pick her up on the way home, and then spend the weekend after her in case of complications, but no, Bunny protested that she was her ickle baaaaaby and far too young to get pregnant.

Three weeks ago Tinkerbell produced 3 kittens.

Anyway, at Sunday's car boot we bought a baby's plastic changing mat (to put on the floor of the cupboard to stop up any kitty-wee soaking through to the wooden floor) for 50p, a baby's play mat with a structure over the top with teeny cuddly toys hanging from it, again, 50p. That'll (hopefully) keep the kitties amused when they're a bit older. I then saw a big blue cuddly toy that its owner was thrilled to get rid of for 10p. I only had a 20p piece so let her keep the change - I can be generous when I feel like it. When I got it back to Bunny's I realised why they were so keen to see the back of it. It's about 3 feet long! It's the blue lobster from the Little Mermaid, and it will be a lovely climing frame for the kittens. Best of all, I got to leave it at Bunny's house when I came home!

It's Thursday now, only a few more days until the next car boot. My house is bulging outwards with all the stuff I've accumulated and I don't need any more but the lure of a bargain is strong. At 9am on Sunday morning I shall be there, 20p entrance money clutched in my hand, shopping bag slung over my shoulder, twitching to rummage amongst the piles of junk that other people can no longer stand the sight of. My idea of Heaven - and all for 20p!

The best things in life are free!

FREE FREE FREE FREE FREE FREE FREE FREE FREE FREE FREE FREE FREE

A lot of people are selling Ipods and other items on Ebay that they've got free by using an incentive programme - no purchase necessary! A colleague of mine (an accountant with her head screwed on the right way) has done some research on it, and so have I, and we've both come to the conclusion that it's genuine. My colleague's put a listing on Ebay but I thought I'd go the friends/family route because they're more likely to believe me than some stranger on Ebay!

Basically, you follow the first link below and sign up for an offer, enough to earn a credit. Some of them are free, so those are the ones I'd recommend (LoveFilm, for instance). By using my link below, I get a referral, and once I get 12 referrals, I get my free Ipod! I might keep it, but, to be honest, they are selling around £200 on Ebay, so I'd be more likely to sell it and then try a different incentive programme to get another one.

The 2nd link below shows a TV documentary about how these incentive programmes make money, and gives the experience of some college boys in the US. Although it doesn't specifically mention this incentive site, it does set my mind at rest about the business reason that these companies can make these offers.

There's nothing to stop you getting an ipod - or any of the other items on the Apple site - just please go through my link in the first instance to sign up! And if you'd like to circulate my link and this explanation to all your friends and family, that would be great! After all, wouldn't you like to be the one who helps them get a free Ipod???


http://Apple.real-incentives.com/?referral=18533

http:////news.bbc.co.uk/media/video/40101000/rm/_40101790_ipods_carver22_vi.ram

Still alive and kicking

The first two months of the year have just flashed by. Getting up at 6.15am and not getting home until 9pm a couple of nights a week and 6 or later every other night tends to make leisure time a bit restricted and I've had some busy weekends, too. This is not just leading up to an excuse about not having put away the Christmas decorations yet (no, they aren't still up, they just haven't made it from boxes on the floor to the attic yet) but it is leading up to a reason for the distinct scarcity of posts since the New Year.

I'm working hard, it's tiring because I'm not used to it - my last job is fading rapidly to the back of my mind, thank goodness, although I do still have the odd flashback nightmare of a couple of the freaks I had to work with. Well, 'work' doesn't really cover what I did there. I turned up, was treated like an imbecile, got paid and got more and more miserable with every passing moment.

Anyone from that evil place who is reading this will know that I don't mean that everyone was hateful and loathesome there - on the contrary, I met some really nice people there who I shall stay in touch with - but sharing an office with someone who thought the world revolved around her and interrupted and tried to take over every conversation, and who questioned every single statement, comment, request or observation was more than mere mortal flesh and blood could stand. Added to the smelly bearded git who was allegedly my line 'manager' and the neurotic stick insect who called herself a senior programme 'manager', and the lack of any real work to do, I'm amazed I lasted as long as I did with my sanity more or less intact!

All this ramble, though, leads me to my point (yes, there was one!) At the University, having sod all to do all day except try not to make eye-contact with some of the freaks who came into the General Office, meant that I had time to post regularly on my blogs and spend a fortune on Ebay. Alas! (or maybe Hurrah!) that is not the case here at CVML. I am a very busy little bee and a very happy one. I don't have time for blogging or Ebay while I'm at work - today is an exception! - but I don't want my faithful (if invisible) readers to feel I'm neglecting them.

Regular posts will resume when I've got into a better routine at home, so watch this space and don't forget - spit every time you pass the Boldrewood Campus of the University of Southampton! I do ....

I've spent a lot of time this week with my head under the bonnet. I've spent a lot of time this week sitting anxiously in traffic watching steam coming out from under the bonnet. You see that bottle on the left, with the yellow lid? That's where water goes. I keep putting water in and by the time I get home from work it's all gone and I drive up the road looking as if I'm making a grand entrance through a romantic cloud of dry ice. Of course, the romantic image on Friday was spoiled as I wound down the window and yelled at the woman getting out of her car that she had chosen a 'fucking stupid place to park'. She was right across my drive. She said she would only be a couple of minutes and went to deliver her brat to a house 2 doors down. I was steaming as much as the car by the time she came back, I can tell you! There are times when I wish I had a tank, then I'd simply ram people who got in my way ...

So my poor thirsty car is going to the garage tomorrow and I'll be feeling down the backs of sofas and chairs trying to find the money to pay for it. The new job is great, but it's inaccessible without a car, so I'll be completely stuffed if there's something major (expensive) wrong. Hey ho, I'll try not to think about that now.

Whenever I've started a new job - and there have been a few! - it hasn't been long (usually only a few hours) before someone has said, 'We're all mad here!' Well, the new job is no different. I can't remember who it was who informed me that they were, 'All mad here!' but someone did on my first morning. Actually, no-one's mad there that I've noticed. I think it's something people say to make you think they are wild and wacky and fun-loving. The only place I've worked where I've come across people who I consider to need serious long-term therapy and/or sectioning under the mental health act and/or electric shock treatment is the University and, funnily enough, no-one there ever uttered the phrase, 'We're all mad here!' And yet, most of them were ....

Weird that, or should I say WIHRD?

(In joke ... if you work there you'll know what I mean!)

A sign that I'm much happier where I am now : it's Sunday and I've cleaned the kitchen and have a roast dinner in the oven. When I was at the University I'd spend Sundays in bed under the duvet trying to convince myself that I didn't have to go back on Monday...

Fly in the ointment

... or rather, turd in the loo!

It didn't take long. We have pristine, ladies-only, immaculate toilets here in my new place of work, unlike the frankly disgusting cubicle we were forced to share with males and females at the university. To add insult to injury, the uni-loo was above the kitchen, so from about 10am it stank of boiled cabbage, even if cabbage was not on the menu. I suppose the smell of cabbage masked the smell of whatever was left floating in the pan ...

Well, unfortunately there is someone here who has difficulty in managing a total flush and I did actually find something that had only gone halfway round the U-bend last week. I decided not to put up one of my now-famous posters reminding people of the need to successfully flush all bodily waste, seeing as I've only been here 2 weeks and I would like to make it to the end of my trial period (end March). After that, the posters may start appearing ...

Apart from that, and the fact that my boss has left me such a complicated spreadsheet to complete that I don't know if I'll make it to the end of the day, let alone my trial period, everything is going swimmingly. We're bringing a radio in tomorrow because it's so quiet at the moment.

I'm betting I win the choice of radio station so this time tomorrow we should all be listening to Ken Bruce on Radio 2, joining in Pop Master ...

Day 2

This is me, skipping down the corridor at work today. Happy feet? Happy all of me!

I'm using someone else's computer because mine hasn't arrived yet, but apart from that all seems to be going well. I haven't felt the need to swear at anyone so far, but give it time! The journey there and back is different every time as I get into the wrong lane at roundabouts and end up on a different road from the one I expected but I'm sure I'll get the hang of it, and it will be easier in the summer when I can see where I'm going - at the moment it's dark when I leave the house, and dark when I leave the office.

I'm touching wood as I'm typing this (who, dear? Me, dear? Superstitious, dear? Yes, dear!) but so far, so good!

Long may it continue!

Happy New Year!

I hope your 2006 went out with a bang and that your 2007 started with one. Wait, I mean bang in the sense of the noise of fireworks, not bang in the American sense of ... oh well, either way, I hope you had a good one!

I spent a lovely evening with Jools Holland, since my dear friend Bunny was poorly and we had to cancel our plans which had involved dozens of mini spring rolls and wontons, washed down with lashings of champagne. Alas, Bunny was dripping snot and talking through great throatfuls of phlegm over the 'phone, and as I start a new job TOMORROW I didn't really want to catch it, thank you very much, so I stayed a safe 20 miles away at home.

I sent my mobile happy new year texts well before midnight to avoid the rush (I'm so organised I'm told it makes people sick) and turned my mobile off before I went to bed, so as to avoid any disturbance in the wee small hours when the glut of messages finally got through. No-one would be foolish enough to risk my wrath by 'phoning my home line! The fireworks stopped around 1am. I couldn't sleep a wink and ended up getting up and making some (decaff) coffee and playing a couple of rounds of Spider Solitaire before finally going back to bed and to sleep around 3am.

Oh, the joy of being awoken at 6am by the telephone - the land line. I ignored it. It rang every 20 minutes until, at 7.40, I dragged myself out of bed, promising to hang, draw and quarter whoever it was unless they had a very good reason, and discovered that it was a text message, sent at midnight by someone who shall remain nameless, but readers of earlier posts will recognize his Red Indian name of Fights-With-Neighbours. Bless him (not what I thought at the time though) he's got my home number instead of my mobile programmed into his 'phone, and he sent me a Happy New Year text at midnight, and it had taken until 6am to get through. My 'call minder' facility on my landline rings every 20 minutes after a message has been left. Oh bliss!

I can't claim that I then stayed awake and cleaned the kitchen to greet the new year with an array of sparkling surfaces - no, my new year's resolutions do not include exchanging my slut crown for that of domestic goddess - I went back to bed until noon. Now, though, the coffee is drunk, the eyes are fully open, and so are the shops. One last chance to grab a bargain before going back to the world of work tomorrow.

And a word about my new job. I'm looking forward to a fresh start with new people who, I hope, will not treat me like the office junior/dogsbody/janitor. My mistake in my last job was assuming that the managers I worked for knew that PA stood for Personal Assistant, and not, as they seemed to think, Piss Artist. Maybe I should take several copies of my CV with me and distribute them to the people in the new department? Maybe not ... Have to work out first if they are likely to get my sense of humour/irony/sarcasm ...

I have high hopes that everything will go smoothly but I know myself. I know I'm a cup-half-empty kinda gal. How long do you think it will be before this blog turns into a rant about my new colleagues?

I'm taking bets ...

In the meantime, HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!