http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=Dl-ai9HuR60
Things can only get better?
Don't you believe it. Despite some reassurances from my outgoing boss, I'm still getting the cold shoulder from the incoming ...
Oh well, back to scanning the jobs pages, I guess ...
Friday, January 30, 2009
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Soothing sounds
There is a song I've been playing over and over again, and I haven't tired of it yet. At the moment, while things are so up in the air at work, I'm finding it very soothing - in fact, I think it's doing me more good than Prozac! Because with Prozac you only know if it's been working after you've stopped taking it for a while, and with this song, it's like a 'hit' of calm whenever you need it. It's Mykonos by Fleet Foxes, and it's definitely going to be one of my Desert Island Discs ...
http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=EeiRe4Qp9Dw
http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=EeiRe4Qp9Dw
Monday, January 26, 2009
Bad manners!
I'll be the first to admit that I'm feeling just a tad sensitive at the moment. For some time now there have been things going on at work that have led my boss and me to think he's not long for this (corporate) world. A few days before my trip to Paris he confirmed that he would be leaving, but didn't know when, and when I came back from Paris there was an official announcement.
Now is not the time, and here is not the place to go into the rights and wrongs of it all. Suffice it to say, I am feeling pretty insecure. The person taking over from my boss hasn't had the courtesy to come and talk to me about whether or not he wants me to work for him (he's an internal appointment, so it's not as if he'd have to make a special trip - just walking up a short flight of stairs would do it). He has called a meeting to discuss the organisational changes, followed by lunch - was I asked to set up the meeting? Was I invited to the meeting? Or the lunch? Answer to all three questions is a resounding no. To my mind, that's just bad manners.
And a ghastly female with tenuous links to our department (not sufficient for her to actually sit anywhere near us, thank God) came upstairs today and started speculating about my future with the company in front of me. How I managed not to tell her to fuck off I really don't know, but while she was still in full flow with the rudeness she turned to my (pregnant) colleague and asked, 'Was it planned?'
I don't know about you, but I've come to the conclusion that good manners and courtesy are a thing of the past. If you have any evidence to the contrary I'd be delighted to hear about it.
Now is not the time, and here is not the place to go into the rights and wrongs of it all. Suffice it to say, I am feeling pretty insecure. The person taking over from my boss hasn't had the courtesy to come and talk to me about whether or not he wants me to work for him (he's an internal appointment, so it's not as if he'd have to make a special trip - just walking up a short flight of stairs would do it). He has called a meeting to discuss the organisational changes, followed by lunch - was I asked to set up the meeting? Was I invited to the meeting? Or the lunch? Answer to all three questions is a resounding no. To my mind, that's just bad manners.
And a ghastly female with tenuous links to our department (not sufficient for her to actually sit anywhere near us, thank God) came upstairs today and started speculating about my future with the company in front of me. How I managed not to tell her to fuck off I really don't know, but while she was still in full flow with the rudeness she turned to my (pregnant) colleague and asked, 'Was it planned?'
I don't know about you, but I've come to the conclusion that good manners and courtesy are a thing of the past. If you have any evidence to the contrary I'd be delighted to hear about it.
Friday, January 23, 2009
This time last week ...
... I was sitting cross-legged on the floor, packing my wee small case for my £1 flight to Paris. Of course, after 'passenger fee' (what??) it turned out to be £10, but hey, who's arguing at that price? We had to book in on-line and we could only take hand luggage so it was a fun challenge! Now that I've been back for 3 whole days it seems as if I've hardly been away, but we had a lovely time. We opted to go to Paris instead of staying in the airport town of Beauvais and as soon as we hit the Métro I found myself walking taller, walking more quickly and with more purpose: I knew where we were going and I knew how to get there. It was great to be back - it felt like coming home, although it hasn't been home for over 20 years. My travelling companion was very laid-back and indulged my wish to go and see my old quartier and was happy to put up with my running commentary: 'Oh look, that was my post office, where I used to post my parcels and letters. That's still a bakery. That little lebanese grocery store's always been there. That's the bakery where I bought bouchées à la reine and didn't dare tell my guests that the 'meat' inside was lung ... Oh, and there's the park where I used to sunbathe, and there's ... '
A lot had changed since I left in Spring 1987, but a lot was reassuringly the same, and our final evening in Paris was a real trip down memory lane. I used to take all my visitors to a place in the Latin quarter called La Petite Hostellerie. The food was simple, but good, and reasonably priced. Tourists flocked there, but so did Parisiens - always a good sign. Not expecting to find it still there, I took my long-suffering friend along the narrow streets, again with the running commentary: 'That's the street where there was an Italian restaurant where I found a cockroach in my pizza ... that's where my brother and I ate when he came over for the Roland Garros ... and that's ... oh my God! It's still here!'
'Bonsoir mesdames, vous voulez manger?' We were greeted by a smiling middle-aged man in a beret which I'm sure he only wore to reinforce a stereotype. I started to tell him, 'Je mangais là tout le temps, dans les années 80 ...' and the words were barely out before his face lit up and he hugged me and kissed me on both cheeks and cleverly ushered us inside.
The décor hadn't changed. The menu hadn't changed. The cracked plates were the same - and the prices were still astonishingly low for Paris. We paid €15 for a 3-course meal. We'd paid that for an omlette in the brasserie next door to our hotel a couple of nights earlier. The head waiter sat down and chatted with me about the state of the British economy and it felt as if I'd never been away.
As we walked past Notre Dame and the Hotel de Ville - still aglow with Christmas lights - I wondered why I'd ever left.
A lot had changed since I left in Spring 1987, but a lot was reassuringly the same, and our final evening in Paris was a real trip down memory lane. I used to take all my visitors to a place in the Latin quarter called La Petite Hostellerie. The food was simple, but good, and reasonably priced. Tourists flocked there, but so did Parisiens - always a good sign. Not expecting to find it still there, I took my long-suffering friend along the narrow streets, again with the running commentary: 'That's the street where there was an Italian restaurant where I found a cockroach in my pizza ... that's where my brother and I ate when he came over for the Roland Garros ... and that's ... oh my God! It's still here!'
'Bonsoir mesdames, vous voulez manger?' We were greeted by a smiling middle-aged man in a beret which I'm sure he only wore to reinforce a stereotype. I started to tell him, 'Je mangais là tout le temps, dans les années 80 ...' and the words were barely out before his face lit up and he hugged me and kissed me on both cheeks and cleverly ushered us inside.
The décor hadn't changed. The menu hadn't changed. The cracked plates were the same - and the prices were still astonishingly low for Paris. We paid €15 for a 3-course meal. We'd paid that for an omlette in the brasserie next door to our hotel a couple of nights earlier. The head waiter sat down and chatted with me about the state of the British economy and it felt as if I'd never been away.
As we walked past Notre Dame and the Hotel de Ville - still aglow with Christmas lights - I wondered why I'd ever left.
Saturday, January 03, 2009
Happy New Year ...
... to everyone!
Despite having a head full of snot for over a month now I started 2009 in a cheerful mood. With me, though, cheerfulness is a fleeting thing and I spent all last night trying to find a comfortable position in bed as I have a terrible back ache. I thought it could be sciatica (I've had that before) but I haven't got the agonising shooting pains down the back of the leg - instead I feel as if I've been severely kicked in the left kidney and I just don't know what to do with myself. Received wisdom (well, received from t'internet) is that staying immobile is not good, and that you should exercise. As something as 'simple' as getting out of bed took about five minutes, much groaning and swearing, and the use of the bedside table, I'm not sure that I'm going to manage anything approaching exercise at all today. I had to pour the cat biscuits into Bella's bowl from a great height this morning (she thought it was great fun, chasing her food across the kitchen floor) as I couldn't bend or lean to put the bowl on the floor.
Although I don't hit the big 5-0 until summer 2010, I am feeling every one of my 581 months today. It's no fun getting old, but I guess it's better than the alternative!
Despite having a head full of snot for over a month now I started 2009 in a cheerful mood. With me, though, cheerfulness is a fleeting thing and I spent all last night trying to find a comfortable position in bed as I have a terrible back ache. I thought it could be sciatica (I've had that before) but I haven't got the agonising shooting pains down the back of the leg - instead I feel as if I've been severely kicked in the left kidney and I just don't know what to do with myself. Received wisdom (well, received from t'internet) is that staying immobile is not good, and that you should exercise. As something as 'simple' as getting out of bed took about five minutes, much groaning and swearing, and the use of the bedside table, I'm not sure that I'm going to manage anything approaching exercise at all today. I had to pour the cat biscuits into Bella's bowl from a great height this morning (she thought it was great fun, chasing her food across the kitchen floor) as I couldn't bend or lean to put the bowl on the floor.
Although I don't hit the big 5-0 until summer 2010, I am feeling every one of my 581 months today. It's no fun getting old, but I guess it's better than the alternative!
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