Linda's musings

Where has she been?

2011-09-26T05:56:00.002-08:00

You may well ask.

I have been teetering on the brink these last few weeks, between sanity and total meltdown, ever since the Child-Who-Would-Be-Line-Manager joined the organisation. How patronising to be told by someone who has been in the organisation for only 2 weeks that she will do all she can to help me progress - as if she knows what I am capable of or what I want to do. I've been working since before she was born, for goodness' sake. I thought that was the final straw there and then, but there were many, many more straws to come over the next few weeks, as my work got eroded, things that I took sole responsibility for just ended up on her desk instead of mine and, the final insult, absolutely the last straw was when I was told that I could only work on a particular project for one day a week. If it hadn't been for that project I'd have had no work at all, but Skippy, so called because she bounces around with so much energy and (misplaced)enthusiasm that I have been wondering if anyone has any Ritalin I can administer, has decided that I should be doing crap admin for someone who isn't even part of our team. Now, it all might just seem like semantics to the casual reader, but I am an Assistant Programme Manager, not an administrator. There is a grade and about £5K difference between administrators and APMs, and I am NOT going to be treated as a human shredding and photocopying machine.

It got to the stage where I couldn't speak to Skippy, or my previous line manager, for the lump in my throat, and eventually I gave in to common sense and went to see my doctor. The hurt and upset and angry part of me wanted to be signed off on full pay for as long as the University would allow (not long if you are a lowly APM - above that and you get a minimum of 6 months, no questions asked) but the bolshy, 'I'll show 'em' part of me was still just about alive, so I opted for going back on a full dose of Prozac.

The situation at work hasn't improved, but at least I don't feel sick the moment I wake up in the morning and realise I have to go to the office. I think, hope and pray that I can bide my time until an opportunity comes up in a different department where I won't have to listen to condescending children telling me what to do.

In the meantime, email me if you know where I can lay my hands on some Ritalin. Or cyanide.

To promote or not to promote ...

2011-06-20T01:39:00.002-08:00

That was the question, and the answer was no.

Remember all you've read about the numpties here who don't know the difference between bear and bare, and past and passed, before reading on.

I'm a level 3 here, which is 2 up from bottom feeder and 5 down from Director. I've been a level 3 for almost 2 years and I feel I've paid my dues, I've done my time (I've done my sentance, but commited no crime ... and bad mistakes? I've made a few. I've had my share of sand kicked in my face and I've come through ...) Sorry Freddie.

My interview for a level 4 post was good, so the feedback goes, my presentation was excellent BUT, they're not going to promote me, oh no. They're going to bring in someone who is almost half my age (HALF MY AGE!) and this child is going to be my new line manager.

Spitting feathers? You betcha!

I suppose I could just about swallow that (with difficulty, admittedly) but, as if to slap me back firmly in my place, I'm being prodded back down to the bottom of the pond with piles of bottom-feeder type jobs to do.

Sometimes it's all too clear to me why I made a break for freedom in the first place ...

Repeat after me, 'It pays the bills, it pays the bills ...'

We all have our cross to bear ...

2011-03-31T07:37:00.002-08:00

One of the people involved in the great past vs passed debate earlier this week had another dilemma today and asked my advice. Keep in mind this person is a manager, earning shedloads more than me and has the responsibility for writing papers that are published on our company's website.

Manager : when you ask someone to keep something in mind, is it bear as in GRRRRR, or bare as in take your clothes off?

Now, maybe I have been a little short-tempered today, for a variety of reasons that I won't go into here and now, but I did manage to stay calm as I said to her, in the tone one would use to encourage a small child asking a blindingly obvious question for the 25th time, 'Well, have a think about it. What do you think it's likely to be?'

While she was umming and aahing a colleague, obviously as irritated as I was, said, 'Bear. It's bear. B-E-A-R.'

'As in GRRRR,' I said helpfully, just in case she couldn't spell, baring my teeth.

Tell me again, it's not me, is it? There is something wrong with someone who can't get the bare essentials right getting a highly-paid and responsible job, isn't there?

It doesn't bear thinking about ...

Is it me?

2011-03-28T02:52:00.000-08:00

People who have not had the same educational opportunities as I have can be forgiven for the odd lapse in their grasp of the English language. People who are 1 and 2 grades above me at work, who have been to university, are English, and who earn between £10,000 and £20,000 more than me cannot.

This is a verbatim conversation between two such highly-paid individuals:

Senior Manager: 'I get confused between passed and past, can you help?'

Manager: 'Yes, of course. What are you trying to say?'

Senior Manager: 'When you run something by someone to get their opinion, is it past or passed?'

Manager: 'Oh, um, it's, it's PAST.'

Senior Manager: 'Oh, right, thanks.'

Manager: 'Don't worry, I always have to stop and think about that one, and the more you think about it, the more confusing it gets.'

NO IT DOESN'T! It's not confusing at all, it's very simple. Passed is the past tense of to pass. Past means (in this context) beyond or by, and if the senior manager had any doubts, why didn't she just say, 'Let me run this by you' instead of showing her ignorance by not knowing the difference between past and passed?

I could give her this example to help her remember:

'How the hell did you get your job? No, don't tell me, I'm past caring.'

Something fishy!

2011-03-18T07:34:00.004-08:00

Yesterday I treated myself to a Fish Pedicure at Mermaid's Corner in Southampton, the first place in the city to offer the treatment, and I can thoroughly recommend it. If you're anxious about having your toes chewed off by miniature pirhanas, don't be! The lovely staff will be able to reassure you. They are extremely knowledgeable about the fish, and the history of this entirely natural method of pedicure.

Dozens of toothless Garra Rufa fish inspected my feet before tucking in to the rough skin around my heels and giving the cuticles around my toenails a good tidy up. The feeling isn't as ticklish as I thought, it was more like the pins and needles sensation you get when your foot has gone to sleep and then starts to 'wake up'. It was lovely and soothing, and I could have stayed there all evening, but after half an hour my feet were beginning to wrinkle, and it was time for me to lift my feet out of the tank. After I had dried my feet, moisturising cream was applied, and I left the salon feeling as if I was walking on air. When I got home I whipped off my shoes to have a close inspection and I don't think my feet have been as smooth and soft in years.

If I'd had any sense I'd have booked a toenail shape and varnish to top off the treatment, but I didn't think about it when I made the appointment. Never mind, that's a good excuse to go back and feed the fishes again!

If you've been thinking about having this done but aren't yet convinced it's for you, give it a try! It really is relaxing and the results are fantastic! Give Mermaid's Corner a try - you won't regret it!

Spring cleaning

2011-03-07T06:48:00.002-08:00

Those of you who know me will agree that 'tidy' is not my middle name. In fact, it's not even in my vocabulary. My brother calls me Mr Trebus after the elderly gentlemen in the TV Series 'A Life of Grime' and, when I invited my neices for a sleep-over when they were tiny, he replied, 'No, they haven't had their shots yet.' When he brings his dog over he says, 'We like Aunty Linda's house, don't we? Lots of places to hide, lots of interesting smells...' He even put my name forward for Kim and Aggie to come and pay me a visit on their show, 'How Clean is Your House' but retracted the request after I gave him the death stare. My Aunty Janet, whom I love dearly (and thank goodness I do!) came to vist once (I'd tidied before she arrived) and declared, 'My God, look at the state of this place! I don't even want to think what your bathroom is like!'

So, you get the picture. It's not dirty, but it's untidy. I have too much stuff, I am a hoarder and I am not ashamed of that fact. So many of the things in my house that others may call rubbish have a use that has not yet been identified, or a value that has not yet been exploited. One day, someone might want a couple of hundred empty CD sleeves. One day, back issues of Psychologies Magazine, still in their cellophane wrappers, may become collectors' items.

No-one was more surprised than I was when I decided that the Time Had Come, the time to pick up everything that was lying on the floor and the stairs, and clear everything away for the Carpet Man to come and deep clean the carpets in the hall, lounge, stairs and landing. I spent a whole weekend moving furniture and bookcases and shoes and bags and piles of paper and magazines and boxes of stuff that I was going to sort out 'later'. The result? A fabulously tidy and beautiful lounge! I love it! And I intend to keep it that way.

Now, if I can just beat a path through the furniture, bookcases and shoes and bags and piles of paper and magazines and boxes of stuff that are now crammed into the rooms upstairs, I might be able to find my way to bed ...

Perhaps Mr Trebus was an accurate description after all.

It's me! I'm back!

2010-12-10T07:30:00.001-08:00

I can hardly believe it’s been so long since my last blog entry!

After being escorted off the premises of my last so-called ‘job’ I went home and emailed my ex-boss from CooperVision, and one of the people who has written references for me in the past, just to let them know that I was back on the job market again and would be needing more references in the future. Within a few minutes I had an email back from my referee from the University (job before CooperVision) asking me to give her a call. We had a chat on the ‘phone, I met her the following week for lunch and she managed to get me a week and a half‘s temp work there …

That was very nearly 18 months ago.

Those of you who have been sharing this blog from the beginning will know that I started writing it to ease some of the frustrations I had working here and no doubt you will be scratching your heads and wondering why on earth I would put myself through the trauma all over again. In fact, I’m doing a completely different job, working with a different team, and rarely see any of the people who made my life so very difficult last time around. I really enjoy what I’m doing, I like the people I’m working with, we’ve moved to a new building so are no longer in the gulag known as ‘Mouldy Boldy’ or ‘Bolditz’ by those who work at this particular University.

And in between the highs and lows of life back in the private sector (the high being a fact-finding mission to Gran Canaria, followed by the Finance Conference there – a brilliant way of getting some winter sun in December 2007 – the low, of course, being made redundant) and re-entering academia I’ve got older, a little wiser and a lot more broke. I’ve been on holidays to Bergamo, Paris, Edinburgh and New York, and have the overdraft to prove the latter. I still have the beach-hut, which needs to be painted, and the cat, who doesn’t.

And I do have a wee bit more time because I actually take a lunch-break! So watch this space - you may be seeing blog entries on a more regular basis from now on.

Tempers fugit ...

2009-07-05T05:56:00.005-08:00

... or, 'Flying off the Handle'

I've lost my temper countless times since joining Ron and Ron's Family Firm back in April. If you aren't familiar with Ron and Ron, this might jog your memory :

or this : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8YiWnwfWrcU

Ron & Ron, and Ron Senior, took me on as a PA and then gave me 2 years' backlog of filing, 5 years of archiving, a year's shredding, and about 200 invoices to raise. Some PA role that turned out to be! Never one to simply smile and keep my mouth shut, I think some of my tirades (albeit behind closed doors) were loud enough to be heard by Da Management. Ron & Ron, and Ron Senior made sure they were away from the office, and left the dirty work to Uriah Heap, aka, the cringing apologetic HR Director. My cell-mate - sorry, the person who shares my office - was given an hour off in the afternoon, leaving the way clear for Uriah to come in and tell me they were 'letting me go' as I hadn't reached the 'standards they expected'. How they could judge me as a PA when all I did was effing shredding, filing, archiving and invoicing I don't know but in a way they were right. I couldn't sink to their standards in a million years.

So I'm back on the job market again. Anything considered as long as the job descriptions are honest. Oh, and family firms need not apply ...

Excused invoices!

2009-05-11T10:05:00.004-08:00

The Chairman of The Firm burst into my office today as I was shaking my head over another stack of invoices that had been emailed to me. If you are not up to speed with the invoicing saga, I seem to be bean-counter's apprentice and spend inordinate amounts of time raising invoices. I thought I was very restrained when 20 appeared in my email in-box this morning. I finished them all at 2.30 in the afternoon, and then 25 more appeared! So I was chanting my mantra 'it pays the bills, it pays the bills' when The Chairman appeared.

'Stop what you're doing!' he cried, slamming two full lever-arch files down on my desk. 'I've got something much more important for you to do!'

Well, I didn't need to be asked twice to stop doing the invoices!

He showed me the contents of the two files: a. 800-page document for a job we are going to be tendering for, which, if we win the contract, will net us about £10 million next year. Goodie goodie! And how can I help us win this important bid?

'I want you to make six photocopies of each file,' he said. 'Quick as you like!'

There were several reasons why I didn't hit him. One, it's grounds for instant dismissal, and in a credit crunch, any job is better than no job. Two, he's an old man. Three, he'd probably hit me back.

So tomorrow I'm going to be photocopying all day, apart from the time I'm going to be spending showing my boss how to do the invoicing. Not because he's going to take the job off me, no no no, he wants to see why it's taking me so long ...

Excuse me while I spit feathers ...

Fortitude and Forbearance

2009-05-07T13:12:00.004-08:00

No, not a double act like Hinge and Brackett - although come to think of it ...

I have displayed a good deal of F & F since I joined 'The Firm' on 6 April. I have told myself that I am being taught a lesson in humility, that I am lucky to have a job, that it pays the bills - I have told myself all these things, and continue to tell myself a hundred times a day, but although all these things may be true, it still makes me feel as if I'm going to burst when some well-meaning pensioner who is still working says to me, 'Has someone shown you how to use the photocopier?'

Just to clarify: I am not on work experience during school holidays. I first started working in an office when I was twenty, and that was nearly 30 years ago, so I DON'T NEED TO BE SHOWN HOW TO USE THE PHOTOCOPIER, YOU SILLY WOMAN!

I'm taking a moment to calm down.

Fortitude and Forbearance may well be a very good name for a double-act, as it happens. My new 'roomie' - or rather, the person who shares my office, and my distaste for The Firm - can also be heard to mutter, 'I'm lucky to have a job. It pays the bills.' Spookily, we share several key hobbies and interests and have a pact: whatever is said in our office remains in our office. I don't know if blogs count. I'll have to ask him. I'll also have to ask him if he would rather be Fortitude or Forbearance.

The job certainly hasn't got any better, but the company has.

Lies, damn lies, and interviews ...

2009-04-20T11:36:00.000-08:00

One in three adults lies on their CV when applying for a job, according to research published in The Independent on 19 February 2009. The figure emerges from a survey of about 1,300 adults.

I’ve yet to find any research about how many employers lie about the jobs they have on offer, although I can quote two cases from my own career history.

Take a well-known University, for instance, where I was employed as a PA to five senior programme managers. The other half of my title was General Office Secretary, although my interviewer assured me that this was really an office manager’s role.

He lied.

The five senior programme managers had never had a PA before and didn’t have the kind of work they could give to one, so that part of the job really existed in name only. As for the so-called office manager’s role, I seemed to spend most of my time reporting faulty light fittings and being called to look at blocked toilets. I took to signing my emails ‘GDB’ (General DogsBody) but no-one noticed.

I left that job as soon as I could and, while I was looking for another opportunity, I started this blog. My early entries show how fed up I was.

After two very happy years in my next job – where the role lived up to the promise at interview – I was made redundant and I’d either forgotten, or pushed to the back of my mind, the fact that employers lie at interview and in job descriptions just as much as candidates do on their CVs.

I took the first job I was offered after my redundancy and it didn’t take long before the lies became apparent. PA to Group Finance Director sounds good, doesn’t it? So you can imagine I was a little perturbed to be given a stack of paperwork on my first day and shown how to raise purchase orders and invoices. This, apparently, is going to be a regular part of my work. So is endless archiving (the Group Finance Director having done no filing at all since taking the job 5 years ago). And I was told by Group FD that the HR director was pleased I was on board because he had lots of work for me to do. GFD also told me that if anybody else gave me work to do, I was to do it. Hmm, so not just PA to Group FD then, more like – yes, general dogsbody.

Unlike the chief executive of a local authority who allegedly failed to mention she had suffered from clinical depression and then took 18 months off from her new job for it, I have mentioned on my ‘new colleague health declaration’ that I take Fluoxetine for depression. Much more of this job and I have a feeling that I am going to require an extended break. The new company pays eight weeks sick leave, and I think that would just about cover it.

Unless they’ve lied about that, too.

Guillotine!

2009-03-08T16:12:00.002-08:00

It's just like waiting for the axe to fall. Even before I knew what was going on, the decision had been made, and no amount of telling me that I am merely 'at risk' can change the outcome: on or shortly after 18 March, I shall be told that I am going to be made redundant.

I am scared.

I am the only person bringing a wage into this household of 1 + cat. There is no fairy godmother to wave a magic wand and make up the difference between Job-Seekers (pitiful) allowance and the salary I totally depend upon. The local paper, which used to boast, 'Hundreds of Jobs in Today's Echo' every Thursday now shyly advertises 'Dozens of Jobs in Today's Echo.' In any given week, one or fewer of those jobs is suitable for me.

Employers may no longer ask your age, but they may ask when you received your qualifications: if you say you got your O levels in 1976 they can easily work out you were born in 1960. That can work two ways: either you are too old for them, or you may be over the age to ask for maternity leave, and that may be in your favour.

I'm 48, going on 49. I have no children, no dependants (unless you count the cat - and she will argue she is independent, although I have yet to see her manage to fill her own water bowl or open a pouch of Gourmet Perle - other cat foods are available) but I do have a mortgage, high credit card bills due to my desire to further my education - four years (part-time) at University has given Visa and Access a lot to be grateful for! I see my salary disappearing on or shortly after 18 March, and I see the president of the European sector of our business gleefully taking his annual bonus of £450,000 while he makes 65+ people redundant in the UK.

This is small beer compared to other companies that are closing, making their entire staff redundant: at least in my (soon-to-be-ex) company over 1,000 will be keeping their jobs. Good for them. Not good for me. It's hard not to be bitter. It's hard not to tell my replacement boss (my own has left - jumped ship before the rats were given their marching orders) to eff off when he asks me a 'favour' (not simply asks me to do something as part of my job, because he's pretending that job no longer exists: it does, he's just giving it to other people).

So I am facing the chop. It's symbolic : my head is to be separated (metaphorically) from my body, and that sums up my working life. My brain has never been fully occupied, my ability and my intelligence have never been fully utilised, so maybe it's fitting that my head is freed.

And, funnily enough, a very dear friend is a professional knitter. It gives me some comfort to know that she will be sitting by the guillotine as the axe falls, knitting furiously and crying, 'Guillotine! Guillotine!'

I shall smile at her as my head hits the basket.

Continuing the musical theme ...

2009-01-30T02:13:00.002-08:00

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 ...

Soothing sounds

2009-01-27T03:57:00.003-08:00

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

Bad manners!

2009-01-26T06:01:00.002-08:00

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.

This time last week ...

2009-01-23T16:18:00.002-08:00

... 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.

Happy New Year ...

2009-01-03T05:59:00.002-08:00

... 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!

Christening

2008-11-18T05:49:00.002-08:00

I went to a christening on Sunday, the first since the baby's sister was christened eight years ago. It was lovely to see a full church, and it was a nice service. We all repaired to the church hall next door for a buffet and drinks, and that's when I started to get cross ...

The stepfather of the baby's mother came round to tell everyone that the 'bar' was open and there was anything we wanted, except sherry and except for the people who were driving, who could only have soft drinks.

Excuse me, but when did the law change? If there's one thing I hate (well there are lots of things I hate, but this is a pet one) it's being told I can't do something by someone who doesn't know what they are talking about. The law states that it is permissible to have a small amount of alcohol in the blood and still be legally allowed to drive. This amount is the equivalent to 2 units of alcohol. As I used to calculate alcoholic units as part of my job, I do know what I'm talking about. The amount of alcohol in the tiny plastic glasses on the tray they were passing around would be, at most, 1.5 units. I was planning on staying at the christening for an hour or so, but even if I had downed the glass in one and gone straight out to the car and been breathalised, I would not have been over the limit.

I quite agree that people should not drink more than the safe legal limit and then get behind the wheel of a car, but I don't agree with people telling me that I can't have any alcohol at all. I take responsibility for myself; it's not up to anyone else. The fact that the wine was probably nasty cheap stuff served at the wrong temperature that would have given me indigestion is neither here nor there. I like to make my own decisions, based on knowledge of myself, alcohol and the laws about it.

The christening party was spoiled for me, not because I didn't drink any alcohol - because I don't drink much, contrary to what you might think reading this post - but because someone else set himself above the law. I'm not a 17-year-old who has only just learned to drive and who needs to be reminded of the law. I'm 48, I've been driving for 31 years, and the only points I have on my licence are 3 for doing 36 miles in a 30 mile zone at 7am on a Sunday morning when there was no-one else about. I really don't need to be told what to do.

It appears to be hard for adults who have children to treat other adults as, well, adults, and to let them take responsibility for their own actions. A word of advice: if you're offering people a drink, let them decide if they're going to have alcohol or not. After all, we're all adults.

Oops, I did it again ...

2008-11-02T11:49:00.002-08:00

... booked another trip with Ryanair, that is, not done anything else Britney-style!

Well, when Ryanair offer tickets, including taxes, for £1 each way, it would be rude not to take up the offer, wouldn't it?

So a friend and I are off to Beauvais in January to exchange one damp climate for another. It's quite a big city, but, apart from the enormous gothic cathedral, I'm not sure how much there will be for us to see. Never mind, though. If we get stuck it's only an hour away by train from Paris! I am leaning more to simply landing at Beauvais and heading straight to Gay Paree, but I know that January in Paris can be very miserable, so maybe we'll explore Beauvais after all and save Paris for a longer (and hopefully spring/summer) trip, if Ryanair are so kind as to offer me £1 seats again.

Now I'm just hoping I can find hotels for £1 ...

Poked, prodded and pricked ...

2008-10-21T05:32:00.006-08:00

... all in the space of 10 minutes!

Yes, dear readers, it was time for my biennial rubber-glove-and-lubricating-jelly-treat down at the Doctor's surgery this morning. I know everyone is short of time these days (as am I!) but they don't even ask you to remove your skirt any more, just your knickers, so I lay spread-eagled on the couch in my bunched up skirt and pop-socks while the practice nurse (you'd think she'd be perfect by now ...) avoided eye-contact and made polite conversation about how far away I worked and at least I'd miss the worst of the traffic this morning.

A few minutes later it was back on with the knickers, sleeve rolled up for a 'flu jab, then out of the door within the 10 minutes allowed for each appointment.

At least this time I was expecting an internal examination. Many years ago, when I lived in France, I went through a very low, morose few weeks, and decided to take myself off to the doctor, with vague ideas of low blood-sugar or low potassium, or something to explain why I was feeling so miserable and lethargic.

I related my symptoms to Dr Benlolo (no, really, that was his name) who listened patiently, then said, 'Strip from the waist down and hop up on the couch' and proceeded to give me a thorough, but inexplicable internal examination.

I don't think the intervention cured me, but it was the last time I visited a doctor in the 6 years I lived in France...

My Brilliant Divorce

2008-10-18T23:55:00.002-08:00

Dillie Keane (of Fascinating Aida fame) starred in the one-woman show My Brilliant Divorce at the Nuffield Theatre on Friday. I can't remember the last time I laughed so much that I cried, and I certainly don't ever remember enjoying a play so much that I tried to find someone to come with me to see it again the following evening. Sadly, all my friends were already booked up for Saturday night so I didn't go again, but as I seem to be able to remember huge chunks of the monologue already, that's probably no bad thing. My colleagues will be sick of the sound of me by the end of tomorrow!

If the play comes to a theatre near you at any time, GO!

And if it ever comes out on DVD, get it!

The Land of Po

2008-10-13T06:38:00.003-08:00

A little over a year ago, I fell prey to the marketing ploys of Ryanair, and ended up going to Marseille (October) and Barcelona (November) on very cheap flights. Last week, another such offer fell into my email inbox and I fell for it again! This time it's Poland, Wroclaw to be precise, for a week in March. Yes, I know it's likely to be very cold ... and by the time Ryanair had added on the cost of check-in and the cost of putting a bag in the hold, the flights had increased to £75, but never mind, I have time between now in March to try and sell vast quantities of unused and/or unwanted 'stuff' on Ebay and Amazon to try and find the money! I'm going with my travelling companion from Marseille, and we spent a happy couple of hours on the computer yesterday looking at hotels. We've settled on the 5* Sofitel, which had a pretty good deal on if you book and pay in advance on a 'no-cancellation' policy, so this is where we'll be staying.

18 weeks to try and learn a bit of Polish, although that shouldn't be hard. I could learn, 'Get out of my shop!' in Polish quite easily, as the owners of some Polish grocery shops in the city are refusing to serve British people. In case anyone out there is puzzled as to why this should bother me, the city in question is in England, not Poland ... Yes, I know, I could feel my blood pressure rising and a potential heart attack coming on as well.

Until later, do widzenia!

Colin Fry and TJ Higgs

2008-10-05T13:34:00.002-08:00

I spent a very enjoyable and interesting evening yesterday at the Guildhall, where Colin Fry and TJ Higgs presented an evening of ... well, what would you call it? They call it a demonstration, but I felt it was an evening of connections, between this world and the world that lies beyond. I'm a believer, not a sceptic, but all the same I do question everything before I accept it - my belief is not blind. The messages that came through were specific, not the 'does anyone have someone on the other side whose name begins with M?' variety, and it was lovely to see the positive reaction of the members of the audience who did get a message.

If I was going to get a message, the Guildhall would have been the place. Less than a week after my mother's death in 1992, my father handed over the mayoral chain of office to the new mayor, and I took my mother's place at his side. She had been ill throughout the mayoral year, but fulfilled her duties with grace and dignity, never letting on that she was so unwell. My father died two and a half years later. If ever either of them were going to come through, I felt it would have been there, but I wasn't disappointed when there was no message for me. Perhaps, at last, I have come to terms with their deaths, and perhaps that's why other people received messages, not me. Other people in the audience needed to hear that their loved ones were safe, and in a happier place. I didn't need to hear that, because I already believe it to be true.

If anyone - sceptic or believer - is in two minds about going to see such a demonstration, I would urge them to go. It was a very positive and affirming experience, and I'm looking forward to Colin's new shows coming up soon on Living TV.

Pink Paradox

2008-10-04T02:32:00.004-08:00

The company I work for supports Breast Cancer Care, and donates a certain sum of money to them for each pack of our best-selling product. It's a great cause, and yesterday, the culmination of Breast Cancer Awareness week, the whole company made a special effort to raise extra funds for the charity. Ladies dressed in pink washed cars, hairy-chested men allowed themselves to be waxed (ouch!), local companies donated scores of goodies for the raffle - with prizes including wide-screen TVs, use of a brand new Mercedes SLK for the weekend, hampers, six-foot tall cuddly penguins (as in Happy Feet) - and a good friend of mine supplied huge quantities of alcohol from her company (which is also one of my former employers) for the Finance Wine Cellar Clearance. I'm sure she won't mind if I add a link here to her firm's cocktail website, which she works tirelessly to promote. There was a Car Boot-ique - an indoor car boot sale - and various pink non-alcoholic cocktails to try, pink doughnuts on sale, and, as we have a multi-national workforce, a fantastic buffet of food from around the world to sample at lunchtime. The Pink Panther put in an appearance and we had a Wii-mbledon tournament. My doubles partner and I got through to the quarter finals (no thanks to me - she kept having to remind me which cartoon character I was!)

The only sour note was a 'phone call from my boss to one of my colleagues to tell her that she must not spend any time on Pink Day activities, because we were all far too busy... What a shame he felt the need to point that out when we are all very responsible when it comes to prioritising work. What a great pity he felt the need to point it out when he had spent half of Friday out of contact travelling to be with his girlfriend for the weekend ...

I guess when you get to that level of seniority you feel you can make the rules, but don't think apply to you. Funny, but I have always subscribed to the 'lead by example' viewpoint...

Next time he asks me to do anything personal for him, I'm afraid I shall be too busy ...

French music

2008-09-08T03:46:00.004-08:00

When I lived in Paris, apart from tuning in to The Archers religiously every night at 8pm (because of the hour's time difference) I listened exclusively to French radio, which played mostly British or American music anyway. In 1996, French culture minister Philippe Douste-Blazy decreed that 40 percent of music played on French radio must be by French artists. Up until then, based on what I listened to, I'd say only about 15 - 20% was French.

I loved some of the French pop songs that were out during my stay in Paris and, much to my delight, some of them are available on You Tube - this was one of my favourites and when I found it this morning it was as much as I could do not to cry as I sang along (in my head, not out loud!) Just as well, as I was at work at the time ...

There is a live version on You Tube, so if you'd like to see Monsieur Cabrel, looking even dishier than he does here, search for his name and 'Encore et Encore'.

... Hours feel like weeks. You find yourself sitting on the floor, leaping up every time you hear the door bang ... Think yourself lucky that there's still a trace of his aftershave on your jacket ...

The song is about a woman whose boyfriend has left her - particularly poignant for me, as I was dumped by 2 men almost simultaneously round about the time the song was released. I suppose it served me right for going out with both of them at once! But I did find myself sitting cross-legged on the floor of my studio apartment, drinking glass after glass of whisky and diet coke (Tab, as it was called then) singing my little heart out to this song, which was practically on a loop on my cassette player, crying harder and harder as the bottle emptied.

Eau Sauvage by Christian Dior still brings a tear to my eye, but despite all the trauma of that period, the memories are happy ones, and I still love the song. I even learned something from the heartbreak, and I wouldn't have changed a thing. I'd do it all Encore et Encore ...

The nights are drawing in!

2008-09-07T10:36:00.002-08:00

I don't know what it's like in your part of the world, but here in the South of England, at 7.30 in the evening, you could be forgiven for thinking it's around 5pm in late October.

I like Autumn ... in Autumn, not in late Summer - and for the past few years, September could have been classed as late Summer, with sunny days and light evenings. For the past couple of weeks I've had a quilt around me as I sit on the sofa watching television at night. My cat comes in with cold paws and a cold nose and snuggles close to me for warmth. I'm contemplating getting my winter-weight duvet out of mothballs because the summer one isn't enough any more.

So, instead of bemoaning the Summer we've (not) had, I'm going to embrace Autumn, and look forward to better television, stews and casseroles, and different clothes (although not for work - thanks to the aircon, it is permanently bikini weather in the office).

Only 108 days until Christmas!

Fast Karma

2008-08-25T01:18:00.002-08:00

Karma works both ways, and sometimes it works extremely quickly...

The forecast said sunny intervals and the sky to the south-west was blue, so I took a chance on Saturday and went to the beach. Oh joy! My lovely hut neighbours had put a first coat of paint on the bits I can't reach and it's looking good. I handed over the money for the paint and Hilary said, 'Oh, David, tell her about that man! Kite-man!'

'Oh yes,' said David, a twinkle in his eye. 'I saw him in the car-park, with his leg in plaster. Seems he lost control of his kite and came crashing down on the sand bar and broke his leg ...'

When I stopped shaking with laughter I slapped on some suntan lotion and lay down on my lounger to soak up some rays. Within twenty minutes a light wind had sprung up, sending clouds to hide the sun. Another twenty minutes on and Hilary and David, by now clad in fleeces, packed up and went home. I toughed it out a little longer before retreating into the hut with a blanket and my book, shutting one door against the now howling gale. After another hour I gave up, got dressed and stepped outside the hut into the cold wind.

There was Kite-Man, leg all mended, blowing up his rig and preparing for an afternoon's fun in the sea.

Now that's Karma.

I take it all back ...

2008-08-11T08:54:00.002-08:00

I got home, logged on in one last vain attempt to connect to the internet before giving Talk Talk the benefit of my (not very high) opinion of them and ... it's working!

Maybe the upgrade to the service in my area took a little longer than planned but whatever the reason, my internet service and I are happily re-united, without the need to buy a new router that I can't afford. Phew!

Thank you, God.

Incommunicado ...

2008-08-11T03:28:00.003-08:00

As I usually do before going to bed, I sat at my computer to check for any late emails. Talk Talk flashed up the helpful message, 'It looks as if you are having problems connecting to your Broadband.' I followed all the usual steps (Talk Talk 'loses' my connection on a fairly regular basis) and, when that didn't resolve it, I rebooted. That normally clears it. In fact, ring your office helpdesk, wherever you are in the country, and the chances are that you'll be advised to switch off and switch on again. Having booted up, Talk Talk flashed again, 'We have detected a problem with your broadband connection.'

This was about 11pm on Friday. I followed the steps, I logged on and off, I followed different steps, logged on and off again, in short, I would not be beaten! Eventually, at 4.30am on Saturday morning I had to admit defeat and I went to bed.

Later that same morning, I left a pitiful voicemail on a friend's 'phone - 'lucky' woman uses Talk Talk as well - explaining the problem, and she 'phoned back with a solution! Not the quick/easy/cheap one I was hoping for, but a solution nevertheless! Apparently, Talk Talk has been upgrading their service, area by area, and since the upgrade, the wireless router that was sent out to new members last year is no longer compatible. Of course, they didn't acknowledge this themselves, my friend's partner managed to find out the information on the internet and my friend's solution was to buy a new router. She's had no problem since.

My problem is that a) I can't afford a new router and b) if I could, PC World have had such a run on the particular type I need that they have sold out, presumably to disgruntled Talk Talk customers.

'Check the internet for fixes in one of the nerd forums,' my brother helpfully suggested. I would if I could connect to the internet ... (well, I know I'm connected at the moment because I'm posting this, but there is a limit to how much time I can spend on personal stuff at work!) ... and if I understood nerd-speak. I am fluent in French, I have a smattering of German, but geek is all greek to me.

So tonight I have the prospect of wading through pages of nerd-ese that I've sneakily printed off at work, and talking to the lovely people at the Talk Talk helpdesk who, according to the friend who had the same problem, could be prosecuted under the Trades Descriptions Act for their lack of help. They couldn't understand what was wrong in the first place, much less suggest a solution.

When/if my internet connection gets back and running I think my first Google search will be for wig manufacturers, because by then I shall have torn all my hair out ...

Wish me luck!

Progress ...

2008-08-06T02:09:00.002-08:00

Oh me of little faith!

I had a letter from the District Council yesterday in response to my cry for help about getting the kite-surfers a designated area to the west of the beach, away from the huts and the children and the swimmers, where they can do less harm. The Council has invited the Secretary of the British Kite-Surfers Association for a meeting to discuss the issue, and I will be informed of the outcome!

It may not be success (yet!) but it is certainly progress, and I am very hopeful for a more peaceful and relaxing summer next year, without Mr ex-SAS getting stroppy and threatening, and bringing hordes of his kite-surfing pals to set up camp in front of my hut with what feels like the express purpose of winding me up.

Watch this space!

Things that go bump in the day ...

2008-08-04T02:24:00.010-08:00

As a pre-birthday treat (and shame on all who forgot it was 2 August - notable lapses being my Aunty Wendy and my Grandmother) a friend of mine took me out for the day on Tuesday 29 July. I was allowed to choose where I wanted to go, and my requirements were simple. 'I'd like to go to a haunted house, please.'

I had heard nothing about Athelhampton House prior to our visit, except that there was supposed to be the ghost of a monkey there. I went along hoping to hear a chattering or scratching noise, but the reality was far more interesting ...

The house and gardens are far more spectacular than my few photos here show, so do take a look at their website via the above link.

The friend I went with, Lesley, seems to be a lot more sensitive to atmosphere than I am, but we both felt very giddy on the staircase leading up to the King's Bedroom, to the extent that I had to hold onto the bannisters. We had a quick look into the room before realising that we had missed some other rooms further up the stairs, so returned the way we had come and visited the Marevna Gallery, at the top of the house.

Back in the King's Bedroom, as I walked past the left-hand side of the bed, I suddenly felt that I couldn't breathe: my lungs seemed paralysed. There was a pressing feeling in my chest, as if something soft, like a ballon or a pillow, was being pressed very hard against my heart. I'm very alert to anything to do with my heart after my op earlier this year, but it didn't feel like an angina attack, just a heavy pressure. I said to Lesley, who was walking ahead of me, that I couldn't breathe, and she came back to where I was standing. She was breathing fine, but said she felt a pressure in her chest - just as I was feeling, although I hadn't said anything aloud! The feeling of pressure, and not being able to breathe vanished as soon as I left the room, and I asked the house steward if she knew if anyone had died in the King's Bedroom. Due to the age of the house, it seems very probable, and as I had brought the subject up, she was able to tell me that there have been several people who have had inexplicable experiences in the house, or seen/heard things.

I sensed nothing else for the rest of the tour around the house and the lovely grounds, and I didn't feel that the experience I had was malevolent or threatening in any way. I'd recommend the place to anyone, even if you're not interested in ghoulies and ghosties and long-legged beasties...

The house steward told us that Athelhampton had been featured on Most Haunted as one of the top ten haunted houses in England - you can view the episode, broken down into segments, here or all in one hit here.

I only took a few photos because the official website has much better ones, but here are a few pictures from the gardens :

All in all, a very interesting and exciting visit. I really would like to stay there overnight, but I don't think I'd find anyone to come with me!

Flea markets, cockroaches, prawns and alsations

2008-07-22T04:30:00.013-08:00

While I was living in Paris my brother Stephen met the woman he was destined to marry. What better way to woo her than whisk her away for a romantic weekend in the City of Light? Unfortunately for her, his pay didn't quite run to the George V hotel, or any other for that matter, but he could afford the coach/ferry fare for both of them, and he asked if I would put them up. I warned him it wouldn't be romantic, as I lived in a studio and we'd all have to sleep in the same room.

My mother was delighted. She didn't approve of sex before marriage (or after it, according to my father) so she was confident that there would be no 'hanky-panky' with me sleeping mere feet away.

'Tell her I have cockroaches, if you're really worried,' I said. 'That'll make sure she keeps her knickers on.'

Of course, I didn't expect my mother to tell my future sister-in-law this, but mothers never do what you expect them to, do they?

Wanting to make a good impression and ensure they had a good time, I took them to the flea market at the Porte de Clignancourt on day one. We had a great time rummaging around the stalls and stands and after a happy couple of hours decided it was time for lunch. This is when the trouble started. The café we chose was a very popular one and they had run out of tables outside in the sun, but I appealed to the owner's national pride: it was the first time I had met my brother's girlfriend - the only time I'd met one of his girlfriends, so I knew she was special to him. I wanted them both to enjoy their brief visit to Paris and I'd selected his café and we'd all be just devastated if we couldn't have lunch on the terrace.

My plan worked. The owner carried another table and three chairs outside. Unfortunately he put it down where his huge alsation used to relax in the sun. The alsation was not happy at being ousted, and sat by Sarah's leg, glaring at her and salivating. Sarah is afraid of alsations ...

To her credit, she only whimpered a bit, and after another word with the café owner, the dog was dragged inside and Sarah relaxed and ordered her first course. Being British, she ordered prawn cocktail. Being France, the prawns were shell-on. The dish was placed in front of her with several pairs of beady eyes staring at her and she went white. Sarah is afraid of shell-on prawns ... it's the eyes and antennae that freak her out.

While she went to the bathroom, my brother and I started to peel the prawns for her but she was back before we had finished. She was holding her hand in the air, blood dripping from her palm. She slumped into her chair and told us that she wasn't used to 'squattez-vous', or toilettes à la Turque (the squat-and-drop holes in the ground) and had put her hands on the walls on either side to brace herself. This was a big mistake as her hand slipped on a broken tile and gashed her palm open.

Smelling blood, the alsation came and sat by her again while I went and asked the café owner, who was beginning to regret ever putting the table outside for us, if he had a first aid kit.

'No,' he said. 'We only took over last week and we haven't got around to that yet. Here, have some paper napkins.'

Poor Sarah ate her (peeled) prawn cocktail with her fork in one hand, and the other hand clenching a dozen or so white paper napkins that were slowly turning red.

What else could go wrong? Well, we had the main course to get through. Steak frites, you can't go wrong with that, surely? Especially when I told the waiter that Sarah wanted her steak bien cuit, no, more than well done, absolutely cremated. Not a drop of blood, thank you. In fact, not even pink in the middle. Brown to the point of being black all the way through, please. I could not have been clearer. The steaks arrived: Sarah cut into hers and moved back just in time to avoid a jet of blood shooting out of the middle. So much for bien cuit! I think the owner wanted to make sure we never came back... I sent her steak back with renewed instructions, even though I could see she was rapidly starting to lose her appetite. It came back, cooked to Sarah's exact specification, but the chips were cold. We gave up. We went back to my flat, Sarah's hand still swathed in bloody napkins.

After a few drinks in a local bar later that evening, Sarah started to see the funny side of it, much to my brother's relief, but when we were all tucked up in bed that night I heard Sarah whisper, 'Is it true, what your Mum said, about the cockroaches?'

'I don't know,' Stephen whispered back.

'I'm not taking any chances,' Sarah replied firmly. 'I'm keeping my pants on!'

Sarah and Stephen celebrate their twentieth wedding anniversary at the end of August this year. I asked them if they fancied going back to Paris for the occasion. The answer, in perfect unison, was a resounding No!

Just in case you didn't believe me ...

2008-07-18T02:36:00.000-08:00

... here I am with my medal for finishing!

Phew, what a scorcher!

2008-07-16T13:09:00.002-08:00

I love the hot weather - under the right circumstances. These include sea in close proximity, a lack of clothing save for a sarong or a tankini, fresh air and a jug of something ice-cold. Sangria springs to mind.

I do not love the hot weather when I have to go to work in an office where you can't open the windows ('Why would you want to open a window? We have aircon!) especially when the AIRCON IS BROKEN! Sorry, was I shouting?

Only one area of the building is without functioning aircon at the moment - yes, you've guessed, the area where my desk is situated. About 10 of us are affected. We've managed to find one decent sized fan and one little one, but all they seem to do is move the hot air around. The huge windows radiate every calorie of heat into the offices: it's like working in a sauna.

The back of my neck perspires, my face looks like a tomato that's just been rinsed under a tap. I kicked my shoes off under the desk for a few minutes and couldn't get them back on again. I swear I left damp footprints on the carpet!

The Factories Act (1961) states that it's not reasonable to have to work in temperatures below 16°C, but there is no upper limit. The thermometer on my desk was next to the fan, and it still showed almost 30°C today.

The least my boss could do is go out and buy us all an ice-cream! But if I suggested it, I'd be the one getting into a hot car and going to the shop. Maybe, for once, I'll keep my mouth shut!

Race for Life

2008-07-13T07:23:00.003-08:00

I did it!

For the fourth year running I completed the Race for Life. It was touch and go whether I would take part - when I enrolled in February my operation was supposed to be eight weeks off, giving me about 15 weeks to recover before the race. Due to NHS 'procedures', though, I had only 7 weeks between operation and race and the cardiac nurse roared, 'Oh no you're not!' when I told her I was doing the Race for Life ... Having promised to walk (I'm built for comfort, not for speed; it was never my intention to run) and not push myself to do it in under an hour, cardiac nurse said OK but after my first cardiac group rehab session I have been soooo depressed it's been a struggle to get out of bed in the morning to go to work, let alone to hike 5km round the Common. Yesterday I got up early, pottered around a bit, but feeling desperately fed up after a couple of hours I went back to bed for the rest of the day, only able to drag myself up in time for Casualty at 8.50pm.

Anyway, I did it, I'm glad I did, and I'm proud of myself. I don't know if I'll do it next year, though.

Barking, not biting ...

2008-07-11T00:43:00.003-08:00

This is one of the photos that came up in an email entitled 'special moments'. It wasn't my favourite, by any means, but as soon as I saw it, I thought, 'Hmmm, I've seen that startled look before.' A colleague had received the same email and when she got to this photo she looked up and said, 'Look, that's a picture of you and me!'

Now, I do agree that I tend to explode with rage from time to time, but nobody takes me seriously, they think I'm just exaggerating for comic effect (which can be frustrating at times). It seems, though, that my original roar (or bark, to keep the canine theme) does startle them.

For the record, my bark may be a bit scary, but I never bite. I'm too afraid I'll leave my teeth behind ...

La Vie en Rose

2008-07-10T00:48:00.006-08:00

Sitting in the surprisingly modern foyer of the health clinic, waiting for my cardiac rehab appointment, I leafed through a magazine (another surprise, it was in date!) and found a small article on Petit [sic] Anglaise. I immediately went into an internal rant about how it should be Petite with an e if it was Anglaise, but fortunately there was no-one to hear my tutting, and it was a mistake on the part of the journalist, not the writer herself of Petite Anglaise, first a blog, now a novel. I spent the next few days catching up on her blog, and, through it, remembering all the things I loved about Paris when I lived there. Do take a look at her blog - it's a wonderful slice of Parisian life and a great unfolding story of a young Englishwoman's life.

I'm sure I can't have been deliriously happy for the whole of the six years I was there but, looking back through the inevitable rose-tinted glasses, I loved my time in Paris. Most of my friends and family have heard all my anecdotes and incidents a dozen times before and I don't often get the chance to tell my tales these days, so I thought I'd commit some of them to the blogosphere before they fade from my memory.

Every day for 6 years I walked along the Rue de la Folie Régnault, turned onto the Rue de la Roquette and walked to Place Léon Blum. I made my way down the steps of this metro station, Voltaire. I'd travel two stops to Oberkampf, change lines, travel to Place d'Italie, change lines again for another two stops and get off at Maison Blanche on the Avenue d'Italie. I worked as a PA in a company that made photographic accessories - flash guns, tripods, lens filters - and the reels that were used in the good old days of movie and audio tape, before things went digital.

Every now and again, in between my rants about my current life in England, there will be the odd reminiscence about 'the good old days' in Paris, so do stop by from time to time!

What did you do in rehab today?

2008-07-08T10:52:00.002-08:00

This morning I found myself sitting in the bar of a rather run-down 5-a-side football club beside a dual carriageway, watching in dismay as a handful of old men dribbled in and sat down. One of the men seemed younger than the others, but the taut, slightly startled expression was a bit of a giveaway. I think he may have succumbed to the pastic surgeon's knife. Certainly he looked and sounded like a man who spent a lot of time moisturising.I was the only woman there. Apart from face-lift man, I was younger than all the others in the group by at least 15 years, 25 years in some cases.

It was obvious that nobody there (except face-lift man) understood what was meant by, 'wear something you can exercise in.' They were all wearing old-man trousers pulled up to their armpits and buttoned-up shirts, socks and highly polished leather lace-up shoes. I was in a loose T-shirt, cropped trousers and trainers.

Imagine, if you can, three women aged between 19 and 45, all on the chunky side, extolling the virtues of exercise in voices that are normally used in a play-group. A powerpoint slide show presentation was given and, in case any of us couldn't read, it was read out to us. Very slowly. I spent the time looking at the spelling, punctuation and layout mistakes and trying to remind myself that two of these women were nurses, not secretaries, and the 19-year-old was ... well, she was probably good at PE at school and ended up being 'an exercise professional'. Whatever that is.

The more I thought about being there, the more depressed I became. When we'd listened to the presentation and been asked questions about it ('So, can any of you tell me what the benefits are of exercise?' 'Yes,' laughed one old geezer. 'It gets me away from the wife.') we then went into our exercise programme. Walking on the spot. Swinging our arms. Walking around the room. Bending our knees.

'Come along, get those knees up!' one of the jolly nurses said. 'Try a little jogging on the spot!'

With size H boobs? In front of 7 elderly men with heart disease? I did them all a favour and refused. I didn't want the shock to kill them.

By the time we broke for a drink of water I was so angry at being there I was close to tears. Oldest nurse asked me how I was. Well, I'm nothing if not honest.

'I really resent being here, having to be here. Everyone else is retired and treating this like an outing. I have to go to work after this. I feel better and fitter than I have done for at least two years but I've been told I can't go back to the gym before I've completed this ... this ... programme and all I want to do is get back to a normal life, not waste my time here.'

To her credit, she didn't try and jolly me along (or I think I'd have walked out there and then) and did seem sympathetic. I guess she was surprised to see someone my age in a cardiac rehab group, and she did say that I could probably leave after week 6 instead of waiting until week 8.

I might have felt a little better if there had been some other women in the group, or at least someone my own age. As it was, I spent two hours surrounded by elderly men, most of whom didn't appear to have heard of deoderant. To add insult to injury, the showers were out of order.

It's going to be a very, very long five weeks.

They tried to make me go to rehab ...

2008-07-05T14:01:00.003-08:00

I went for my 'Cardiac Rehab' session a couple of weeks ago. I thought it would just be a question of,

'How are you feeling?'
'Fine, thanks.'
'Good, on your way then, and try to cut down on the cholesterol.'

Turns out it was a lot more serious than that. Instead of carrying on as normal (after all, the statins I'm taking now combat the cholesterol, so where's the problem?) I've got to make some major life-style changes and complete an eight-week cardiac rehab programme - every Tuesday morning from 8 July onwards I have to attend a gym where I will exercise under the close scrutiny of cardiac nurses to check I'm actually as well as I now feel. I'm too young to have heart disease but as every member of my Dad's side of the family has/had it, I guess I wasn't ever going to escape. I resent the lifestyle changes I am going to have to make, but hey, it's better than the alternative of dying young, isn't it? Isn't it?

Although the good old NHS has had almost 2 weeks to send me details of this enforced activity (whilst forbidding me to go back to my regular gym - which I have to carry on paying for) I have had no letter from them. I 'phoned them last week at 4pm only to be told that there was no-one there. The person who answered the 'phone did take my number and promise that the cardiac nurse would call me back the next day. She didn't.

So, I still don't know where I'm supposed to go, what time I'm supposed to turn up, whether I should wear loose clothing for the exercise, if there are showers there and if should I bring my own towel? My boss has said not to worry, that we'd work around it, but to be honest, if I were the employer, I'd expect to see some kind of official document about the fact I'm going to have to take off every Tuesday morning until the end of August.

When I had the angiogram earlier this year I was told that I could go back to the gym 10 days later. At that time I still had a severely blocked artery and angina pains. Now that I've had the op I am fitter than I have been in at least 2 years, so why have I been told I can't go back to the gym? It makes no sense. If I haven't had my letter by Monday night, I'm not going to their bloody rehab.

So there.

Hut decoration ... the next stage

2008-06-17T03:54:00.004-08:00

Having seen a hut neighbour make a bit of a pig's ear of her stencilling (fortunately on the inside, and not the outside) I was determined to do a better job of mine. Instead of holding the stencil in place and using the paint straight onto it - which I did a few years ago: the 'low-tack' tape to hold the stencil in place stuck like fury to the paintwork and I never managed to get it off - I drew the shape of the stencil with a pencil and then in-filled with a very fine paintbrush. I hope you'll agree that the results are pretty good!

The painting at the top of the hut (above the door) still has to be done, but I need someone taller than me on the ladder to be able to reach. I'm hoping my next-door hut neighbour will lend a hand this coming weekend, and then it will be finished!

It's just as well I had something to distract me from what was going on on the beach ... and just as well I've had my heart op, otherwise I may well have blown a blood vessel. Not one, not two, but eight kite-surfers descended on the beach and decided to set up their rigs in front of my hut. It made even contemplating swimming suicidal - they hurtle along the water at such speeds and with so little control of their boards that they'd never be able to avoid someone in the water, so I was unable to go for a swim all day. Photos below to give you an idea of the size of the rigs - which range from 6 - 12m2. The lines from kite to harness are up to 27m long, so you can imagine how much space they take up on the beach - in front of my hut. I did ask the 'ring leader' a couple of years ago why he couldn't just walk about 50 yards further along the beach, where there are no huts and no swimmers, so as not to be in the way, and I got a torrent of abuse back. Now I'm sure they do it on purpose. Anyway, a series of photos and a letter is going off to the local council suggesting they ban the use of kite-boards in front of the huts, and set up a designated area further along the beach, out of the way.

I'll let you know if I get anywhere with the council. I have a strong feeling that I won't even get a reply ...

The Naming of the Hut

2008-06-13T00:24:00.003-08:00

Springtime is repair and repaint time. I've always referred to the hut simply as 'the hut' but as it now has a new roof covering and smart new front panels, I thought I might give it a name and what better than The Sand Bar? When the tide is out, you can wander for miles along the sand bar, and when I have visitors, they usually bring a bottle of wine (in fact, it is a requirement of all visitors to contribute something, and chilled white wine is always acceptable!) so it seemed very appropriate.

After trying to think of various ways of getting the font I wanted transferred onto the wood (thought of having a custom-made stencil, or using white carbon paper, or chalk) I finally went for freehand, and I think the results are pretty good. I hope that it looks as good once it's in situ: more photos to come when it's fixed to the hut!

Hut decoration

2008-06-05T02:07:00.004-08:00

Last year I tried in vain to find someone to re-roof my hut - I contacted 3 people, one of whom even came down and measured up - but none of them came back to me with a quote or responded to my follow-up calls.

The roofing felt was almost all gone from one side of the roof and when I went down for the first time this year the inside of the hut was very wet and all the towels etc damp and musty. Someone had poked a card through the door offering repair services, so I called him the next day to explian what needed to be done. The following day he called back with a quote, and, on Monday, he did the work! I went down at the weekend and painted the sides (before he'd had a chance to put the new roofing and front on) and the above photo is how I found it when I went down last night - new roof, new front panels either side of the doors, and new fascia to the front. Fantastic! So, I set to work immediately, and this is how it looked by the time I left at 8.30pm :

As you can see I've painted the panels beside the doors in the same blue as the sides of the hut. The lighter stripe you can see (probably only on the left side) is going to be painted white. The panel above the door is going to be white and I can't quite decide if the diagonal pieces are going to be blue with the diamond shape where they meet (see next picture) in white, or vice versa. Decisions, decisions!

I've got a piece of driftwood that I'm going to sand down and paint (blue background, white lettering) with the number of the hut - 10 - and the name. The hut doesn't have an official name, but I've decided I'd quite like one. I shan't tell you what it is, though, until I've finished the project, then I'll post a picture.

Touch wood, weather permitting, I shall go down at the weekend and finish off the painting, sand down the doors and paint them white as well, and put new galvanised bolts on that won't rust and drip ginger stains all down the new paint work! And hopefully, in amongst all that activity, I shall find some time for a swim (if only to get the paint off me!) Oh, and I need to throughly clean out the inside, because when they ripped off the old manky roofing felt and put on the new, lots of horrible lumps of tar and felt of varying sizes fell through the gaps between the planks and covered everything.

I wouldn't have had the energy to do all this last year!

More pictures to come after the weekend!

2008-05-29T10:51:00.001-08:00

For the squeamish, don't worry, this is an animation, not an actual person! It does show, however, the procedure I had done on 22 May.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gvRtP3wl_AY

The operation was done under local anaesthetic and, they said, a bit of sedation, although I didn't feel at all sedated! They had warned me it may get a 'bit uncomfortable' which is stiff-upper-lip speak for 'really painful and scary'. I had what felt like an angina attack whilst the procedure was being done and felt very panicky, but after about 20 minutes in the recovery suite I was much better and was wheeled back up to the ward. I had to lie flat for 2 hours, then half-lying for another hour before I could finally sit up. People kept coming along and asking, 'May I check your groin?' Had I been feeling up to it, I'd have asked if they were actually hospital staff or just visiting someone, but for once in my life I didn't really feel like joking.

After a more or less sleepless night and a final check on my groin, I was allowed to leave around midday, so I came home and slept. From then on, though, I've been feeling a lot more energetic, less breathless and not so exhaused that I could do with a nap every four hours! So, all in all, it seems to have worked!

I'm now back at work (shame, I was enjoying the time off, the flowers, and the visitors!) feeling ten times better - or possibly more, it's difficult to tell - than before.

I was going to put in photographs of the 'before and after' X-rays, showing where the artery was narrowed, and what it looks like now the stent is in place, but the scanner automatically saves pictures in a format that Blogger doesn't accept, so you're spared the detail!

Differences I've noticed so far :

I can walk for more than 50 yards without getting a pain in my chest;
I can climb stairs without having to stop at 30 to get my breath back;
I can wander around a stately home and gardens for 2 hours without needing to sit down every 20 minutes;
I can spend a whole weekend awake now, without having to have a 3-4 hour afternoon nap;
My heartburn/indigestion has improved significantly;
My feet and ankles are a normal colour - a strange one this. They were quite blotchy, and while I was in hospital I noticed that my feet were almost purple (it wasn't with cold). They are now normal flesh colour;
I can paint the beach-hut! I did this on Sunday, with lots of bending and stretching from the paint tray on the ground, up to the roof, with no ladder. I did the hut in about an hour and I know that last time I did it - about 3 years ago - I felt really breathless and tired and it took me longer because I had to keep stopping to rest.

All in all, I think I've been poorly for a lot longer than I realised, so I'm looking forward to having more energy and being able to do all the things doctors always recommend, like taking more exercise. We'll see after I've been back to the gym for a few sessions!

I'll keep you posted on my progress!

Dive's Revenge

2008-05-14T05:52:00.004-08:00

Those of you who have been with me from the very beginning may recall 'Dive', the next-door neighbour of the Chelsea Flower Show standard front garden (see details of his encounter with Bella here http://lindamusing.blogspot.com/2006_08_01_archive.html). He has now exacted his revenge in a totally unexpected way. He has built an extension.

This may not seem an obvious act of revenge, indeed, digging up and paving over his pristine lawn makes my patch of garden look less like a wasteland. No, the revenge comes in two forms: he rebuilt the garden wall between our two properties and told me proudly he was going to 'finish it off neatly with a trench of pea shingle'. 'Whatever,' I thought. What wasn't clear - until I got home one evening - was that he meant my side of the wall! OK, that means the nettles that were neatly positioned by the driver's door were no longer a threat to my bare summer legs, but it also means I've lost lily of the valley, snowdrops, daffodils, day lilies and valerian. I was not a happy person that day, I can tell you. Fortunately his windows were closed and he didn't hear me cursing, 'Where are my fucking flowers?!?!?!?!?!' in my stage whisper ...

This trench of pea shingle is like one huge outdoor litter tray for the neighbourhood. I can almost hear him thinking as he planned the extension: 'That'll teach her to let her cat piss on my trousers. Every other cat can crap in her garden now.'

And the extension itself? Well, it's been built up to within a gnat's crotchet away from my garage wall and the additional rain water going into my guttering (which he damaged when he moved it) is bouncing off the 'litter tray' and splashing back up the garage wall, causing vast amounts of damp.

Thank goodness Bella only pee'd on him. What would he have done if she'd taken a more, um, solid approach?

Neighbours, eh. Can't live with 'em, not allowed to shoot 'em ...

Time wasting in the NHS ...

2008-05-12T02:37:00.003-08:00

The NHS being the NHS, certain procedures have to be followed - even if this delays things ...

When I had my angiogram, I was told that the angioplasty would be 6 - 8 weeks later. I was also asked if I had a preference for which hospital to go to. I said at the time that I preferred the hospital in my home town. They told me that it was all part of 'Patient Choice', and that I would be receiving a letter. The letter arrived 3 weeks later, and I rang the number to say (again) that I preferred the hospital in my home town.

'We'll put you on the waiting list now that we know where you want your procedure done,' trilled the Patient Choice lady.

'So, I didn't immediately go on the waiting list 4 weeks ago when I first said that I wanted to be in Southampton General?' I asked.

'No, we had to send you a letter,' she said. 'It will be 6 - 8 weeks from now.'

And so it is. 22 May is the date for the angioplasty. My angiogram was 29 February, so actually the waiting time has been 12 weeks, all because they had to tick the box marked 'sent letter', even though they had had the information required in that letter on 29 February. I'm wondering why it took them three months to send me the letter in the first place ...

So my bank holiday weekend is buggered up - no beach-hut for me as I'm not allowed to drive for a week - but at least there is a reasonable chance of a week of good weather. I shall have to spend it in the garden instead ...

The revenge of the BCSFH

2008-04-09T05:06:00.003-08:00

'Shirley' from EastEnders bears more than a passing resemblance to the BCSFH, in appearance as well as manner and attitude, except that BCSFH is harder.

I thought there must be something in the air because she smiled at me on Monday and I even came back to my desk and said, 'Something's up. She smiled at me!' And I was right. The following day she set me up for a prize fall. I guess I'm just too straightforward and honest and I don't see the devious, twisted, malicious plots she hatches until I'm up to my neck in sh*t.

After a horrible night of anxiety and anger dreams, and palpitations, I finally persuaded myself to come to work and face the inevitable music. My boss poured oil on troubled waters and had a word - again - with BCSFH's boss, and that will be that. For now.

Broke but warm(er)

2008-04-01T00:23:00.002-08:00

I had a quote for a new boiler that was £1,300 cheaper than British Gas and, although the engineer didn't offer the 'easy' payment terms that BG did, I had some promotional credit card cheques through the post a couple of days before the work was done. The rate was 5.9% for the life of the balance, so that's a lot cheaper than the credit option with BG would have been. So, all in all, I'm broke (as usual) but shouldn't be broke for as long now as I would have been with British Gas, if that all makes sense!

Of course, nothing goes totally smoothly, does it? The previous owners of the house installed a cheapie central heating system with small bore pipes. That's why they'd cut the flow of water to the bedroom radiator - because if the upstairs rads are on, it's harder for the water to be pumped downstairs, so I can either have warm upstairs and tepid downstairs, or vice versa, or I can have medium everywhere. I'm still playing with the thermostat valves to see what works best, but in the meantime I'm grateful for the warmer spell that has hit!

I'm putting my faith in the future and I'm going to have the new suite as well. What the hell, if I'm going to die young of heart disease I want to enjoy myself and have nice things around me! To make room for the new suite (which is a lot bigger than the old one) I'm having to have a major clear-out, and I hate throwing things away. I did take my tropical fish and my solitary goldfish back to the pet shop, and they took them in (a bit like an orphanage for pets!) so the two tanks are now in the garage, awaiting thorough cleaning before being put on Ebay. That's given a lot more space so I'm slowly getting there!

Once the lounge is totally presentable and the new suite has arrived, I'll post a picture!

Freezing cold and chat rooms

2008-03-23T20:02:00.002-08:00

I've had no central heating for 3 weeks now. I've managed to borrow an electric heater for the lounge, but I'm not able to carry it upstairs, so if I need to do anything on the computer I have to type quickly before my fingers freeze. Even now, I can't feel my face!

I thought I'd forget my ice extremities and go and have a chat in a chat room somewhere, but what's happened? I used to be able to go into AOL and chat with other 40-somethings, or visit the 'Pub' for a game of trivia, but there seem to be no chat rooms at all, only message boards! Nothing to take my mind off my popsicle toes ... Forgive the ManTran reference :)

So I'm off to bed, so cold that it will take me until morning to thaw ... I may have to put my bobble hat on ...

Happy Easter! Hope you are warmer than I am!

The price of warmth ...

2008-03-14T04:59:00.003-08:00

... is very high! I spent a couple of hours with British Gas Man yesterday, going through the various pros and cons of combi boilers vs traditional heating systems, and the good news is that they can come next week and sort out my freezing home. The bad news is that it's going to cost over £3,000. I don't know about you, but I certainly don't have £3,000 lying around so I'm going to have to take out the payment plan. Can't really afford that either, but something will turn up - it will have to! Shame I've just paid the deposit on a new suite ...

I am going to get another quote, but the people who are quoting won't be able to offer me 'easy' payment terms, so I guess British Gas is going to get the job, despite the high price.

So this isn't a very jolly post, but as you can imagine, I'm not feeling very jolly at the moment, and I have the prospect of a few more years of being broke to look forward to as well!

Ho hum, maybe I'd better do the lottery on Saturday ...

Life in the freezer

2008-03-06T06:38:00.002-08:00

When I got back home after my post-hospital stay at my brother's last week (not allowed to be alone for the first night after the angio in case I bled to death!) I went straight to bed again. I got up around 5pm to a rapidly cooling house, and a strange vibration coming from the airing cupboard. Yes, you've guessed, just as a cold spell hits, my boiler packs up! A friend came to have a look at it on Monday and identified the problem - gas valve - but as the seal's gone on the boiler, and there is a water leak that has mercifully plugged itself with limescale (hurrah for being in a hard water area!) it looks like a new boiler is going to be the most sensible solution. He's giving me a few days to think about it (and him a chance to find a 2nd hand gas valve) but I've been so cold in the evenings I'm going to have to say to hell with the cost, and go for a new boiler. I know, I know, it's March, and we've only got another 6 weeks of central heating, but I just can't cope with having to cocoon myself in a duvet while I watch television in the evening. So, it's belt-tightening time, folks, no treats, no extras, no nothing! Just hours and hours of taking photographs of my stuff to sell on Ebay ...

... where did I put those 800 wooden rosebuds?

Hard-hearted?

2008-03-03T06:53:00.002-08:00

Hard hearted, me? Well, technically speaking, there are parts of my heart that are hard. Take my arteries, for instance. On Friday I was lying on a trolley in a hospital with a tube going up my femoral artery to my heart: it was then pumped full of dye to show where my arteries are causing a problem (the problem being angina) and how bad it is.

I've had plenty of time to get used to the idea of having heart disease. My father had his first heart attack when he was in his thirties. His brother and sister have had heart attacks. His father died of a heart attack, so did his uncle, and so did his grandfather. It was safe to assume that I would one day develop the heart disease that every member of his family has had, but somehow I didn't think it would be just yet. After all, women are supposed to be protected by their hormones from heart disease, at least until the menopause, and I'm a long way off that. I guess that's why I tried not to think about the pains in my chest last summer. I thought it was because I was unfit, so I joined a gym. Didn't get any pain while I was there, but when I stopped going because I had a bad cough the pains started up again, and were worse than before. I finally went to the doctor just after Christmas and after a load of tests, got the 'good news'. Ah well, it's not the end of the world. My aunt and uncle are still alive and kicking (although the uncle looks as if it's the bucket he's going to be kicking pretty soon) and they're well over 20 years older than me. I've found out earlier than they did, so am taking preventive steps (and pills. Lots and lots of pills. And more exercise ...) so I'll probably outlive them all. Having said that, it was still a shock and I've felt pretty depressed ever since.

Friday's angiogram showed narrowing of one of the 3 major arteries, so I'm going to have to go back for another procedure and have angioplasty, and have a stent fitted. That involves another tube, this time containing a balloon and a mesh (the stent), being guided up to my heart. Once it's in place, the balloon will be inflated. This will expand the mesh, which will hold open the artery. The balloon is then deflated and removed.

I'm trying very hard to adopt a 'Whatever' attitude, rather than a 'What the fuck?' attitude - I need to save my emotional energy for fights that are worth it, instead of getting worked up about people who leave dirty spoons in the sink at work, instead of putting them in the dishwasher (or washing them!) and the fact that I am expected to help out other departments, when no other bugger in any other department will lend me a hand. It's simpler to just do it and shut up than to argue, but it's a lesson I'm finding very hard to learn.

Of course, timing is not good. The angioplasty is due in about 4 weeks - the same time as I'm supposed to be going to London for the weekend, and the same time that my new suite is due to arrive. Ah well, no point in getting worked up about it.

He moves in mysterious ways ....

2008-02-25T05:09:00.003-08:00

I know I shouldn't laugh at someone else's misfortune, but ...

Those of you who are familiar with the BCSFH, really the only fly in the ointment here where I work, may smile with me when I tell you that she's accompanying the management team to their conference to a sunny island off the coast of the US ... and the airline chose her luggage to lose ...

Sorry, I can't say any more, I'm laughing too much!

What are you giving up for Lent?

2008-02-07T05:47:00.000-08:00

Every year I give up something for Lent, with varying degrees of success. This year (as for the last few) I am giving up alcohol, crisps and I was going to give up chocolate, but there were some Mingles left over from Christmas that needed to be finished up, so .... just alcohol and crisps.

Oh, and left-overs from company lunches. We have really good caterers who deliver sandwiches, crisps, fruit and muffins for business lunches. They are very generous and there are invariably a few sandwiches left over. I can't bear waste, so I generally eat them or take them home to have later. It's going to be very, very hard to ignore the lovely tortilla wraps and fresh bread sandwiches with their yummy fillings, but I must stay strong! It's only for 40 days, after all ...

What are you giving up for Lent?

Recce to Gran Canaria

2007-12-01T12:19:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-18T04:09:00.000-08:00

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!

2007-09-30T14:42:00.001-08:00

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

2007-09-18T02:20:00.000-08:00

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?

2007-08-13T03:44:00.000-08:00

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

2007-08-08T06:47:00.000-08:00

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?

2007-07-22T11:14:00.000-08:00

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!

2007-07-19T01:03:00.000-08:00

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!

2007-07-18T00:18:00.000-08:00

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

2007-07-15T23:55:00.000-08:00

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

2007-07-09T12:58:00.001-08:00

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.

2007-07-06T00:14:00.001-08:00

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?

2007-06-24T07:43:00.000-08:00

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

2007-06-20T06:48:00.000-08:00

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 ...

2007-06-17T09:49:00.000-08:00

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.

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

Race for Life

2007-06-10T09:22:00.000-08:00

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

Car booty

2007-05-10T03:10:00.000-08:00

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!

2007-03-28T06:03:00.000-08:00

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

2007-03-01T03:06:00.000-08:00

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 ....

2007-01-21T06:13:00.000-08:00

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

2007-01-15T00:56:00.000-08:00

... 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

2007-01-03T10:51:00.000-08:00

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!

2007-01-01T04:38:00.000-08:00

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!!!

It's all over now ...

2006-12-29T15:20:00.000-08:00

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

2006-12-18T05:58:00.000-08:00

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 ...

2006-12-09T08:59:00.000-08:00

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!

2006-12-07T01:20:00.000-08:00

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 ...

2006-12-05T05:26:00.000-08:00

... 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 ...

2006-12-01T04:45:00.000-08:00

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!

2006-11-25T02:30:00.000-08:00

I am worth $1,532,070 on HumanForSale.com

Well, next time someone tells me I look a million dollars I'll know I'm having an off day!

Next time the L'Oréal advert tells me, 'You're worth it' I'll say, 'I know!'

Next time I feel low because of something someone says to me at work (not for much longer though!) I'll remember that I'm worth over $1.5 million and start to feel better.

And to my friends who may be wondering - to me, you're priceless!

At last!

2006-11-22T14:48:00.000-08:00

I've been offered a job! And I only went for the interview today! I really got on well with the man I'd be working for and felt we had an instant understanding (no, it was not a lust thing - I don't fancy him and I'm probably old enough to be his mother). Before that I had a chat with and HR person and had to trot out the same old answers to the same old questions: 'Can you give me an example of a time when you .... ' It's so hard to answer those questions and sound fresh and enthusiastic when you've answered them a dozen times (more, in my case!) because you don't want to sound as if you've been looking for work for more than 6 months and are getting desperate. I felt a bit deflated after that. Then I had a test on Excel, which I am not good at - just basic add and subtract, really! So I couldn't do all of that, and some of the bits I could do were pure fluke ... At the end of the Excel test I almost said I didn't think there was any point in wasting the European Financial Director's time but I thought, 'I've come this far...'

Anyway, we seemed to hit it off, he said I was one of the strongest candidates he'd seen (he hadn't seen my Excel test results though ...) and that he only had one more person to see. I went home and phoned the agency to tell them how it had gone and they'd just got off the phone with him - he hadn't even seen this afternoon's candidate and he wanted to offer me the job! YIPPEE! The extra salary will be eaten up with petrol costs because it's 17 miles away, and although it's a shorter working week, my day will be longer because of the travel but I don't care, it's a proper job, doing proper work, not just sorting out the post and reporting leaking toilets like I've been doing for the past 18 months.

They want me to start on 2 January. That means I don't have to give my notice in unti 5 December, and I'm on holiday from 21 December until 3 December anyway (offices close, plus I've taken 2 days extra). With the overtime I've done recently, and the holiday I'll have accrued to the end of the year, I could actually finish on 11 December - effectively only 1 week's notice. How funny that would be, considering it takes them a good 3 months to get around to placing an ad for staff ... HA HA HA ! And I wouldn't feel bad AT ALL about leaving certain colleagues to pick up the pieces, seeing as they've been so quick to put me down all the time. If they think they can do the job better or do without me, let them try.

I will miss some of my colleagues. Some, I can't wait to see the back of...

Where does the time go?

2006-11-20T10:22:00.000-08:00

I can't believe it's 20 November and I haven't written my blog for almost 10 days. I'd like to say that it's been one long round of pleasure but, of course, it hasn't!

Having had bugger all to do for 18 months at work, everyone is now taking the p**s and piling on the work. I did actually say to one of my managers that it was too little, too late. She looked as if she was about to cry, but so what? I feel like crying there most days!

I've had interviews, seen other jobs to go for, been up to London for a board meeting - which was great, made me feel useful, and gave me an opportunity to do something worthwhile - and we've had Children In Need, which I helped out on. We've raised about £300, which is better than last year's £250. I hope, for the sake of my sanity, that I'm not going to be in the same job when next year's Children in Need comes round!

So, if you value my sanity as much as I do, keep your fingers crossed for me! I have to get another job AND SOON!

Bad manners

2006-11-09T03:01:00.000-08:00

Aside from the basic good manners taught me by my ultra-polite parents, I also learned a good deal of etiquette and manners while I lived in France. Maybe I shouldn't be so hard on other people who haven't had the benefit of living in France as I did, but surely some manners have nothing to do with geography and everything to do with common courtesy?

Take my (least) favourite person, Mozzie, for instance.

When you go into someone's office, it's polite to say hello to those who are already there - especially if you share that office with them. It's not polite to waltz in, as Mozzie does, generally late, and only say hello if your line manager is there.
If you're making yourself a cup of coffee, it's polite to offer to make one for other people in the room. It's not polite to wait until one person (me!) is out of the office for a nano-second to grab the tray and rush to the kitchen and then say, 'Oh, you weren't here, I didn't know what you wanted.'
It's not polite to question people about everything you overhear them say.
It is polite to ask your office-mates if it's OK to open or close a window.

Am I being unreasonable to expect a certain level of common courtesy from someone who is 21? I might expect this kind of behaviour from oiks in their last year at school, but not from someone who is sharing an office with me.

I think I probably am being unreasonable, but it's hard to keep a grip and stay calm when every single day is a struggle against incompetence, thoughtlessness and downright rudeness.

I may not be a celebrity but GET ME OUT OF HERE!

City College interview

2006-11-06T08:54:00.000-08:00

I feel as if I'm on some kind of soap-opera-style game-show! I had an interview at City College this lunchtime as PA to the Principal. What a joke! The little boy who interviewed me (an HR assistant, not even an HR manager) looked like a teenager in his dad's suit - you know, the collar too big and the tie knotted too big, and he'd spent far too much time on his hair getting it to lie flat - and he read all the interview questions from a sheet of paper. I kept wanting to stop and say, 'Did you get all that?' because he was writing pretty slowly.

After half an hour with the little boy, a little girl came to collect me to take me through the typing test. She kicked off by saying, 'D'you wan' the loo first?' and then, 'We've got anuvver person comin' in for in'erview so she's gonna do the test at the same time as you.'

How unprofessional! Candidates aren't supposed to meet each other! Anyway, the next candidate didn't turn up so we got started. Little girl said, 'It don' ma'er 'bout akracy, we just wanna see how fast you can type, right, so don' bovver wiv c'rectin' anyfink.'

After my ten-minute typing test (which they'd cribbed from Southampton City Council) I was escorted back across the building site that is City College to reception, where I handed in my visitor's pass, and then went to the loo before leaving. Leaning against the basins, fat belly showing, was a cross between Vikki Pollard and Lauren, talking on her mobile 'phone. I went into the cubicle and sat down, and this is what I heard:

'Did you phone my mobile phone? Did you though? No, but, did you phone my mobile phone? Did you text me? Did you text my mobile phone? Did you though? No, but did you text me? Did you phone me? Did you phone my mobile phone? Did you though? Did you call me on my mobile? Did you though? Did you?'

I'm glad I was sitting on the loo. Even if I hadn't been, I'd have wet myself anyway.

I don't think I want that job. It's all just a bit too naff for me!

Interview update

2006-10-30T03:41:00.000-08:00

I had a great interview on Thursday with a very dynamic, youngish director at B&Q and the job sounded exactly what I was looking for. I felt that we could work very well together and he seemed as enthusiastic about my CV as I was about the job. You can imagine how disappointed I was when the agency rang me the following day to say that B&Q had asked them to stress that I was absolutely the best candidate for the job, but they needed someone to start almost immediately so they could have a handover from the out-going PA, and as I had to give 4 weeks' notice, they offered the job to the 2nd best candidate, who could start on Monday.

So, while it's nice to know they had such a high opinion of me, it doesn't really help me in my current situation here at the University, where it's getting harder and harder to remain civil, let alone cheerful!

I'm living up to my dwarf persona - Grumpy - a lot today!

Spoke too soon

2006-10-24T07:09:00.000-08:00

I spoke too soon about nice things happening to me. Today has been a real pain in the backside. Having been told to cancel our Christmas lunch, and having apologized profusely to the hotel, the Director suddenly took a vote in a whole team meeting and announced that we would be having Christmas lunch at this particular hotel after all ... so I was back on the 'phone, grovelling again. I pointed out to the director that I'd been told to cancel - no apology from him, just a flap of his hand and an irritated expression. I am so fed up of being here and being the one everybody kicks!

I didn't want to organise Christmas again this year anyway, I told my line manager I didn't want to volunteer, and he just shrugged and mumbled and I somehow ended up doing it. I just hope I get a new job before the Christmas lunch ... or that I can stand up at lunchtime and announce my departure. That would be fun!

HUMBUG HUMBUG HUMBUG

Nice things do sometimes happen to me ...

2006-10-24T01:52:00.000-08:00

... for all my ranting you could be forgiven for thinking that life is just one long round of irritation (well, 99% of the time it is!) however, sometimes nice things do happen and yesterday was one of those rare nice days :

The awful Mozzie has 3 days off so I am spared her irritating whine
I put an old printer on Freecycle and a nice elderly man came to pick it up yesterday evening for his grand-daughter, who's just started her nursing degree, so it's gone to a good home and cleared a bit more space in the house
I GOT A TAX REBATE! So I can pay a few more bills

I suppose that's my quota of nice things for the rest of the year, but there's only about 9 weeks to go, so I think I can put up with it. Something else nice in the form of a new job would be welcome, too ...

Sunday already? Where did the weekend go?

2006-10-22T00:50:00.000-08:00

One of the great things about having bugger all of any interest to do at work is that it gives me the chance to read other people's blogs. I skip around all day, checking out what other total strangers have to say, and I find all sorts of fun things to do with a spare five minutes, like this:

You Have a Choleric Temperament

You are a person of great enthusiasm - easily excited by many things.
Unsatisfied by the ordinary, you are reaching for an epic, extraordinary life.
You want the best. The best life. The best love. The best reputation.

You posses a sharp and keen intellect. Your mind is your primary weapon.
Strong willed, nothing can keep you down. Your energy can break down any wall.
You're an instantly passionate person - and this passion gives you an intoxicating power over others.

At your worst, you are a narcissist. Full of yourself and even proud of your faults.
Stubborn and opinionated, you know what you think is right. End of discussion.
A bit of a misanthrope, you often see others as weak, ignorant, and inferior.

What Temperment Are You?

Effing, effing Kay and Mozzie!

2006-10-20T02:36:00.000-08:00

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! Just had to get this off my chest!

Effing Kay has now started backing Mozzie up if I say anything, for instance :

Mozzie: 'What's happening with this parcel? Seeing as it's in the middle of the office.'
(Actually, it was leaning against a screen, in no-one's way, and the parcel belongs to someone else and is nothing to do with her.)

Me (calmly): You don't need to worry about the parcel.

Kay (snapping): She's not worried, she's asking the question!

Irritating little bitch will never to learn to mind her own fucking business if she keeps getting Kay jumping in with her unsolicited opinion, and she's never going to learn not to interrupt other people's conversations if she sees Kay interrupting too. God, there are days when I wish I had a gun!

One of those days

2006-10-18T01:59:00.000-08:00

Today is one of those days when everything, but everything is guaranteed to annoy me.

Mozzie had only been here for a couple of minutes and I was ready to become an axe-murderer. One of my friends here noticed me pulling faces (Mozzie sits behind me, so can't see the grimaces and gurning) and sent me the following to try and calm me down - try it!

Find your battle cry!

Feeling better? I am!

Just my luck!

2006-10-17T00:11:00.000-08:00

Isn't this just typical of my luck?

Yesterday I had an email from the charity where I volunteer as a counsellor. They'd written previously saying that they head some excess funding and would like to 'reward' the long-term volunteers - I'd said that as long as I continued to get my expenses paid I was quite happy with that. Yesterday's email said that they were considering employing the more experienced volunteers (I count as one of those) on a freelance basis for certain clients, which sounded great! I'm currently taking £40 a week for the centre in donations, and the thought of that coming my way instead would be wonderful news for the poor old bank balance.

But isn't there always a catch?

We'd have to pay for the room hire ourselves. No idea how much that would be but could be £5 an hour. We'd have to have ongoing analytical therapy ourselves - that could be anything between £35 - £50 a week. We'd have to have our own public liability insurance, which is £85 a year, and we wouldn't get our expenses reimbursed (I claim about £5 a week for petrol and parking). So, in order for them to pay me £40, I'd have to spend £55 - £70 a week. Even with GCSE grade C maths I can work out that it would be costing me more to be paid that it currently costs me to volunteer!

I think I know what the answer will be when they ask me if I'd like to be paid ... NO THANK YOU!

Two new job opportunities in one day!

2006-10-16T07:13:00.000-08:00

There was a nice job in the paper on Thursday - PA to CEO of New Forest Parks Authority - so I've asked for an application form for that. Today I had a call from one of my agencies to ask if they could put me forward for yet another job at B&Q (bilingual French/English) and one at Coopervision, again, PA, with another European language 'desireable'. Fingers crossed! The money at Coopervision isn't as good as B&Q and it's much further away and the traffic will be crap going that way - all in all, I don't think I'd be any better off financially there, but that's not the point, it won't be here, with its blocked toilets, pubes all over the place (on toilet seat and soap dispenser today) nasty people and fuck all to do most days.

It's got to the stage where I resent anyone giving me anything to do, but I'm just too pissed off to challenge it. For some unknown reason Kay gave me some diary work to do, didn't explain herself properly and then laughed like a drain when I contacted the wrong people. It wasn't my job anyway, all I was supposed to be doing was booking a room, not sorting out other people's diaries. GRRRR!

So, keep your fingers crossed that one or other of these jobs comes up trumps. I think my favourite ones of the hopefuls at the moment are Red Funnel (if the money's OK), New Forest job and the one at the BUPA hospital as PA to General Manager and head of Clinical Services. Holby meets 5* hotel ... and within walking distance if anything goes wrong with the car ...

I wasjust about to go into a major rant about Mozzie borrowing something from my desk and not putting it back properly but I'm aware I'm getting even grumpier than the grumpy old women on TV so I'll go and do something to take my mind off her and the awful Kay... Thank God for YouTube!

What a day!

2006-10-11T02:02:00.000-08:00

It's been chucking it down with rain so Mozzie has used this as an excuse to be late in - again. 9.30am! Now, I wouldn't mind if she stayed and made up the time, but she's supposed to be working 36 hours a week (like me) but she comes in between 9 and 9.30, and she used to leave on the dot of 4.30. Now, occasionally, she'll leave around 4.50. No way is that anywhere near 36 hours a week. Being generous I suppose she does about 32.5 hours a week but is paid for 36. I'd love to do 32.5 hours a week and be paid for 36 - that would be like an extra £35 a week in my pocket. I've mentioned this to my lovely line manager (who is about as much use as a fart in a collander, as my Dad used to say) who just babbled on and made no sense. Apparantly Kay has spoken to Mozzie about her time-keeping and there has been a little bit of improvement (as in leaving at 4.50 instead of 4.30) but it's still not 35 hours a week.

On top of Mozzie irritating me just by her very existence, the milk's gone off in the kitchen, so I'm on black coffee, and someone has left what I would normally call a 'floater' in the loo, except that it's not floating, it's blocked in the S-bend. Disgusting. I've put a very graphic notice up in the loo and I'm going to add another one saying that we are able to trace the culprit through DNA so they'd better bloody well clear it.

Honestly, turds and pubic hair and sour milk - what have I done to deserve this?

And another thing! I just had a call from one of my agencies to say that Skandia didn't want to interview me because they were looking for someone with financial services background. So nearly 4 years at HSBC doesn't count as financial services then? Go figure!

And it's only 11 o'clock. I've got clients tonight so I won't be home until 9 o'clock - it's going to be a very very long day ...

I'm being boring

2006-10-10T02:33:00.000-08:00

Nothing funny or even remotely interesting has happened to me over the past few days. No amusing encounters with nutters in the street, no telephone calls from call centres in India for me to rant about, nothing worth reporting at all!

This is just not good enough. I think I shall have to start walking to work across the Common again, just on the off-chance that I might catch a flasher (if I run fast enough!)

Tell you what, why don't you leave a comment about what's happened to you? All you have to do is click on comments below, and you can fill me in on what's going on for you. It would be great to hear from you!

Early Saturday morning

2006-10-07T00:01:00.000-08:00

It's not yet 9 o'clock, and I've been up for an hour - unheard of for a Saturday morning! Perhaps it's because it's a lovely sunny (but cold so far!) day, the first decent day all week, or perhaps it's because the whole weekend stretches ahead with no obligations, no concerts, no visits, no need to go shopping, no college essays, no data entry to earn extra money, no transcription tapes (again, to earn extra money!) no jobs in Thursday's Echo to apply for, just a fridge full of nice food, and a load of good books, and some decent programmes on telly tonight.

Well, I've done my bright and breezy early morning. Time to go back to bed for a nap. All this bounciness has worn me out!

First gig of the new year!

2006-10-06T02:07:00.000-08:00

This is me! The rock chick!

Well, you may disagree: my last 4 concerts were Take That, Robbie Williams, T-Rextasy and The Sweet ... Pretty rockin', I thought.

I've just booked the first of my gigs for next year. Wembley (if it's finished!) here I come on 14 April for 'Once in a Lifetime' - THE OSMONDS, David Essex, David Cassidy (that's when I'll be going to the bar or the loo) and Showaddywaddy.

Hang on, I saw the Once in a Lifetime tour earlier this year - so it can't be once in a lifetime ... but who am I to argue when it's the opportunity to see the Osmonds again? Be still my beating heart ...

Maybe not exactly a rock chick, more a rockin' old bird ...

Me and my big mouth

2006-10-05T04:07:00.000-08:00

Do you sometimes wish you'd kept your mouth shut? I do.

I've been beefing about not having enough work to do for ages now, and this week I've been sooo busy I've hardly had enough time for all my blogs (did you think this was the only one?!?) my NaNoWriMo page and my website, let alone writing up client notes and doing paperwork for my agency. How on earth I find time to do any work at all is beyond me!

AND I have an interview at 9 tomorrow morning. It's unfortunate that Kay has got the day off, because it means that Mozzie will be on her own in the office tomorrow morning. I'm toying with suitable excuses for being in late. One of my colleagues 'stole' what I was going to do - call in and say I had a dental emergency and would be sitting in the surgery until there was a free slot - so I'll have to think of something else that doesn't tempt fate too much ...

To give you a clue about tomorrow's interview, here's a picture :

Wish me luck!