Ah well, reader. Back to work tomorrow after a wonderful weekend in Paris. Still, looking on the positive side, only two days to endure and then it will be the weekend and the second of my 'Come Dine With Me' dates. Liv (the host) is opting for a French-themed evening, which should be fun. Quite apt, considering my jaunt there last weekend. I sent her a message today, after she had mentioned that the evening would have a French theme. I advised her to ensure that the food was shit, service was surly and that she raided my purse at the end of the night, leaving me bereft of any currency. Good Lord, it was expensive.
I went to see Stephen (hairdresser) this afternoon and he raised a very valid point about Paris. You never see any fat people. It's true, I had never noticed it...but they are quite a slim race. The only porkers that I saw were foreign tourists.
I was shocked at the amount of vagrants, beggars and people with strange afflictions (no limbs, limbs that looked very un-limb-like, etc). Quite tragic and very sad to see.
So, highlights for me? Well, Venus De Milo at The Louvre, Eiffel Tower, Arc De Triomphe and Sacre Coeur.
I return to Shitty Central tomorrow. Apparently, one of my cohorts is having some 'problems at home', therefore meaning that I have to do a late shift tomorrow. Super. So, the last few hours of my time off have been spent having lunch with my oldest friend. Followed swiftly by a haircut and quick shopping trip, whereupon I purchased a top from Gap, some chicken liver pate and a punnet of strawberries. 'How very decadent!', I hear you cry.
On to a more sombre subject now. Seven years ago today, my wonderful mam died. In some ways, it seems like another lifetime ago, yet in some respects...just as if it happened yesterday. Weird. I miss her so much. Miss her conversation, her silliness, the smell of her hair. Sometimes the sadness of it all just hits me like a train. That's grief for you. No warning of when it will hit again. Just the sheer pain when it does...the huge sense of loss. It gets easier, but still hurts like hell. And so, I pour myself a night-cap (Isle of Jura single malt), listen to some music and just 'remember'. Here's to you mam...xxx
Wednesday 31 August 2011
Wednesday 24 August 2011
Wednesday 24th August
Well, reader...only one more day of work to endure and then I am off for almost a week. Hurray!
Update re: work. They have progressed my note of interest in redundancy. Although, I found out today that three other colleagues at different locations have also submitted their interest. So, who knows what will happen. I am the only one with a personality, so I feel that it is only fair that they let me go...don't you? Until that decision is made, I will soldier on, doing the day job. Knowing my luck, I will probably fall off my chair into a boredom-induced coma before that happens.
I have been feeling quite stressed over the last couple of days. I didn't realise how stressed until I had some physio treatment tonight. The physio tried to pop an acupuncture needle in my ankle and my foot was jumping all over. She had to hold it down quite firmly to get the needle in - that has never happened before.
Anyway, enough of this work flim-flammery. I am looking forward to having a few days off and going on my sojourn to Paris. Although, dreading the inevitable flight. I have advised Amy (my holiday-buddy) that we will have to put the world to rights over several glasses of French red wine. She has handed in her notice at work - she is completely sick of work and is planning to visit a friend in Australia. May even stay out there, eventually. She has asked me if I want to go, but I can't stand people being so 'chipper', like they are in Oz. I need a bit of gloom to make me feel normal!
Need to go to the local post office in the morning to get some Euros. I won't be purchasing anything extravagant in Paris. Just food/drink. Plus, entry to galleries/museums, etc. I desperately want a pic of me by the Eiffel Tower....me and a huge erection....first time for everything. Hope that it won't be as much of a let down as other erections in my life...
Update re: work. They have progressed my note of interest in redundancy. Although, I found out today that three other colleagues at different locations have also submitted their interest. So, who knows what will happen. I am the only one with a personality, so I feel that it is only fair that they let me go...don't you? Until that decision is made, I will soldier on, doing the day job. Knowing my luck, I will probably fall off my chair into a boredom-induced coma before that happens.
I have been feeling quite stressed over the last couple of days. I didn't realise how stressed until I had some physio treatment tonight. The physio tried to pop an acupuncture needle in my ankle and my foot was jumping all over. She had to hold it down quite firmly to get the needle in - that has never happened before.
Anyway, enough of this work flim-flammery. I am looking forward to having a few days off and going on my sojourn to Paris. Although, dreading the inevitable flight. I have advised Amy (my holiday-buddy) that we will have to put the world to rights over several glasses of French red wine. She has handed in her notice at work - she is completely sick of work and is planning to visit a friend in Australia. May even stay out there, eventually. She has asked me if I want to go, but I can't stand people being so 'chipper', like they are in Oz. I need a bit of gloom to make me feel normal!
Need to go to the local post office in the morning to get some Euros. I won't be purchasing anything extravagant in Paris. Just food/drink. Plus, entry to galleries/museums, etc. I desperately want a pic of me by the Eiffel Tower....me and a huge erection....first time for everything. Hope that it won't be as much of a let down as other erections in my life...
Sunday 21 August 2011
Sunday 21st August
Hmm, finding it very tricky to get my blogging groove back lately. I simply can't think of anything remotely interesting to say. So, I have made a cup of tea and eaten an egg custard (M & S, of course) to try and assist my creative flow.
So, my weekend so far has been moderately OK. Not that I have done anything terribly exciting. Friday night was spent in the company of my colleague at a Thai restaurant chatting about the prospect of my impending redundancy. I shall find out about that on Tuesday when I have a one-to-one consultation with a groin in a suit and my union representative. I fully expect that he will tell me that I have been matched or slotted to a role, that I will be expected to apply for it and that my note of interest in redundancy will not be progressed at this time.
Well, if that is the case, fiendishly cunning 'plan b' will steam into action. 'What is that', I hear you cry, dear reader? Simple really. Just to do a bloody awful interview. Like, really awful. However, could my conscience allow me to do that? Would it? I still have a modicum of pride left. Admittedly, this dwindles on a daily basis - but it is still there. I shall update you on my progress during the week.
Went to Newcastle this morning with Miss Underscore. Had a rather disappointing scone at John Lewis. Searched for inspiration in HMV for a CD. Found none. Just felt myself getting agitated as I moved past the James Blunt section. Not even a brief meander along the rows of DVD's could inspire me. So, the sum total of my spends in the city was £9.95 to get a pair of boots re-heeled and £20 on M & S food shopping. Nothing purchased for my impending sojourn to Paris. I wanted to alight from the QueasyJet flight looking aloof and confident, like Audrey Hepburn. However, I fear I will look more like Audrey Roberts. Parisians are renowned for looking effortlessly stylish, debonair and sexy. How the hell will I fit in? I will be taking my Merrell walking shoes for the daytime walks...might take some 'chase me catch me fuck me' heels for the evening...well, maybe in my case...'chase me, catch me, get the Compeed blister plasters out and fuck off'. I've been hearing about how rude Parisians are. Hey, that is no problem. For I can do rude right back at them - the beauty of it is that they won't understand a bloody word of it. Result.
Am looking forward to the visit to Versailles. The gardens are meant to be spectacular. However, if I was in charge of them, I would probably think it too much of a 'chore' and demand that my friendly builder, Ronnie, came to throw wood/slate chippings over it. Personally, think it would look rather effective.
Anyway, my hedonistic weekend of revelry continued on Saturday with a trip to see the lovely Liv to get my toenails painted. Then off to meet a guy that I haven't seen since school. He is a recovering alcoholic. I haven't told him that I am gay. He quite clearly wants to be more than friends (a girl just knows these things...I'm not being conceited). I need to tell him soon. Tough, but that is how it is.
On the afternoon, my ex (Debbie) came to collect some post. Post that is still being delivered here despite the fact that she moved out last September. Anyway, we had a chat over several cups of tea. She was telling me all about her new partner - she sounds happy - I am genuinely pleased for her.
Going off on a monumental tangent, I copied Nirvana's 'Nevermind' album to iTunes this morning before I went to Newcastle. I had forgotten how fantastic is was - and still is. God, I bought that CD in 1991. Things were so much different back then. I was dating my first boyfriend, was totally besotted with him. I was at college - in my second year studying for my A-Levels. Everything about that time seems so magical now. I suppose it was, looking back. I didn't have a care in the world, nor a hint of all of the trials and tribulations that were to come over the next 20 years. It's a good job that we don't know what the future holds, isn't it?
So, my weekend so far has been moderately OK. Not that I have done anything terribly exciting. Friday night was spent in the company of my colleague at a Thai restaurant chatting about the prospect of my impending redundancy. I shall find out about that on Tuesday when I have a one-to-one consultation with a groin in a suit and my union representative. I fully expect that he will tell me that I have been matched or slotted to a role, that I will be expected to apply for it and that my note of interest in redundancy will not be progressed at this time.
Well, if that is the case, fiendishly cunning 'plan b' will steam into action. 'What is that', I hear you cry, dear reader? Simple really. Just to do a bloody awful interview. Like, really awful. However, could my conscience allow me to do that? Would it? I still have a modicum of pride left. Admittedly, this dwindles on a daily basis - but it is still there. I shall update you on my progress during the week.
Went to Newcastle this morning with Miss Underscore. Had a rather disappointing scone at John Lewis. Searched for inspiration in HMV for a CD. Found none. Just felt myself getting agitated as I moved past the James Blunt section. Not even a brief meander along the rows of DVD's could inspire me. So, the sum total of my spends in the city was £9.95 to get a pair of boots re-heeled and £20 on M & S food shopping. Nothing purchased for my impending sojourn to Paris. I wanted to alight from the QueasyJet flight looking aloof and confident, like Audrey Hepburn. However, I fear I will look more like Audrey Roberts. Parisians are renowned for looking effortlessly stylish, debonair and sexy. How the hell will I fit in? I will be taking my Merrell walking shoes for the daytime walks...might take some 'chase me catch me fuck me' heels for the evening...well, maybe in my case...'chase me, catch me, get the Compeed blister plasters out and fuck off'. I've been hearing about how rude Parisians are. Hey, that is no problem. For I can do rude right back at them - the beauty of it is that they won't understand a bloody word of it. Result.
Am looking forward to the visit to Versailles. The gardens are meant to be spectacular. However, if I was in charge of them, I would probably think it too much of a 'chore' and demand that my friendly builder, Ronnie, came to throw wood/slate chippings over it. Personally, think it would look rather effective.
Anyway, my hedonistic weekend of revelry continued on Saturday with a trip to see the lovely Liv to get my toenails painted. Then off to meet a guy that I haven't seen since school. He is a recovering alcoholic. I haven't told him that I am gay. He quite clearly wants to be more than friends (a girl just knows these things...I'm not being conceited). I need to tell him soon. Tough, but that is how it is.
On the afternoon, my ex (Debbie) came to collect some post. Post that is still being delivered here despite the fact that she moved out last September. Anyway, we had a chat over several cups of tea. She was telling me all about her new partner - she sounds happy - I am genuinely pleased for her.
Going off on a monumental tangent, I copied Nirvana's 'Nevermind' album to iTunes this morning before I went to Newcastle. I had forgotten how fantastic is was - and still is. God, I bought that CD in 1991. Things were so much different back then. I was dating my first boyfriend, was totally besotted with him. I was at college - in my second year studying for my A-Levels. Everything about that time seems so magical now. I suppose it was, looking back. I didn't have a care in the world, nor a hint of all of the trials and tribulations that were to come over the next 20 years. It's a good job that we don't know what the future holds, isn't it?
Tuesday 2 August 2011
Poem of the Day...nay, of THE YEAR...
Ok, I have had an absolutely diabolical couple of days at work. Wall to wall shit, just awful atmosphere. I am sick of explaining myself to my fuckwit boss. Marked down again in my appraisal. Cunt. So, I turn to Philip Larkin to soothe me with his purple prose.
You know what, Philip, me old mucker? I AM courageous enough to shout 'stuff your pension!'
I yearn for a change, for a simpler, less stressful way of life. I just NEED the powers that be to accept my note of interest.
Toads - by Philip Larkin
You know what, Philip, me old mucker? I AM courageous enough to shout 'stuff your pension!'
I yearn for a change, for a simpler, less stressful way of life. I just NEED the powers that be to accept my note of interest.
Toads - by Philip Larkin
Why should I let the toad work
Squat on my life?
Can’t I use my wit as a pitchfork
And drive the brute off?
Six days of the week it soils
With its sickening poison -
Just for paying a few bills!
That’s out of proportion.
Lots of folk live on their wits:
Lecturers, lispers,
Losers, loblolly-men, louts-
They don’t end as paupers;
Lots of folk live up lanes
With fires in a bucket,
Eat windfalls and tinned sardines-
They seem to like it.
Their nippers have got bare feet,
Their unspeakable wives
Are skinny as whippets - and yet
No one actually _starves_.
Ah, were I courageous enough
To shout, Stuff your pension!
But I know, all too well, that’s the stuff
That dreams are made on:
For something sufficiently toad-like
Squats in me, too;
Its hunkers are heavy as hard luck,
And cold as snow,
And will never allow me to blarney
My way of getting
The fame and the girl and the money
All at one sitting.
I don’t say, one bodies the other
One’s spiritual truth;
But I do say it’s hard to lose either,
When you have both.
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