Fun and games at work

Apparently hot muggy weather in America increases the incidence of murders (could they have any more?)

In Leeds, especially my office, the hot muggy weather is increasing the number of staff leaving. And it's making me laugh. Obviously we would prefer the murder option, but knowing the directors are crapping themselves is a reasonable alternative.

Anyway, all the best Karin and Marie with your new contracts, your new employers gain is most definitely this shit tip's loss. You go girls. Keep in touch. I'll miss you lots and I love you both dearly x x x

Storm in a teacup?

.......probably not - however when I rang to see how things were at home today, I got short shrift (no, I have no idea what that means either - ask my granny)

They're all going bowling and they were just leaving the house and why was I ringing anyway?

Ho hum.

Spawn of the devil

Yesterday was day 3 of the summer holidays for my kids.

My son (12) is threatening to run away from home because he hates us all (why do you hate us? I just do) I think it's because he's grounded until Saturday morning. He's grounded because I found a packet of my cigarettes in his pocket. (Don't state the obvious, I know I shouldn't be smoking either, but you can't get valium on prescription any more and alcohol makes me feel a bit dodgy when consumed in quantity night after night after night.) It was his second offence of this kind and I don't think a a 48 hour grounding makes me the worst mother in the world.

My husband (mental age of 10) is threatening to leave home because he says he has no authority over the kids, so why should he bother to stay.

My daughter (9) is demanding I buy her a new cover for her mobile (ok, that's not such an issue, but it's the way she demands things)

We have to get through a lot more summer holiday before they go back to school. Happy days.

When people ask me why I hate summer so much, I know I don't need to ask them if they have children.

Oh happy days

I'm a bit squiffy and its only 14.29.

One advantage to being very old and on a diet!

Santa's little helper

I went to visit my friend Lynda yesterday evening. I don't see her as often as I should, but then she doesn't come and see me either. We had lots of catching up to do, must be around 10 months since I last saw her.

And I got round to delivering her Christmas present, too.

Let's go fly a kite

On the way to the supermarket yesterday we passed someone flying a kite. I've never been tempted before but this time it looked liked fun, and I said so. My daughter said we had a kite at home (how come I have no idea about the contents of my house?) so we decided we would go fly a kite when we got back.

It took my old man about 4 attempts to assemble the kite (which was un-opened on the living room floor and apparently had been for a very long time) and eventually he read the instructions and manged to put it together properly.

It was a pretty cheap one made of plastic and bits of wood that wouldn't stay where they were supposed to, so I had to reassemble it by the time we'd walked the short distance to the playing field.

Our attempts were pathertic, it kept falling apart. If I wasn't shouting at her, she was shouting at me, but I really enjoyed it. And the other couple on the field that had a proper kite, that actually went in the air, seemed to be having a good time without yelling at each other.

Now I am glued to eBay and hoping my bid of £1.25 will get me that easy-to-fly kite, only an hour to go. I'm also watching some more impressive ones and might indulge in one of those too - or maybe not.

You see, I'm well aware that if I do buy a kite then our windy valley will become the calmest place on earth. A bit like when I eventually bought the kids a sledge 7 years ago, instead of dragging them round in a plastic storage crate with the greasy old tow-rope tied round it, and since then we haven't had enough snow to stop a sledge grating on the paths.

Global warming? Nope, it's the items I buy that are changing the climate.

Page 35 now

And I managed to skip pages 16 - 32 cos they are extracted from an Industry Standard document and I should know all about it already (yeah, right!).

So, I've managed to read two whole pages in the equivalent of one working day. Management should be impressed - not.

This is simply not fair. How can I be expected to get a lively and exciting blog up and running when I have to read this crap? I need to be doing fun things. This document is 127 pages and I'm a very old lady. I'm reading my life away.

Oh fuck.

How exciting is this?

Today at work, I am reading **** Electronic Payment System, ATMs Switching, Member Banks Interface Manual.

I could cry through boredom. Its 127 pages long and I've been trying to read it for 2 days. I'm on page 15, but I think I read page7 at least 18 times.

Role on Chapter 5 and the Data Elements Descriptions. Woo hoo!

Yawn.

At work today

My Technical Director (yes, Director) came up to me and said 'Go on to www.masturbateforpeace.com - they've got some great bumper stickers' and then stood over my shoulder until I did. I think I saw one that was faintly amusing, whilst he read several out loud between guffawing with laughter.

Do I have grounds for an official complaint regarding my Director's completely appalling sense of humour?

Too busy

to do anything except drive me new car. It's lovely.

Flat batteries - tragedy or what?

Having just commented on 'Mick in the uk's catnip blog, it made me look over lovingly to my pet corner.
 
To get you up to speed we have 3 cats (Red Lester, Houditoo and Dandy), 2 gerbils (Will and Gareth), 3 fancy goldfish (Spot, Spot and Spot), 2 ordinary goldfish (Sam and Joe) and 3 minnows (This, That and The-other) - hey, blame the kids for most of the names.
 
Sam and Joe are my daughter's and live in her bedroom. This, That and The-other are my son's and live in his bedroom. Will and Gareth live in the living room on the same shelf as Spot, Spot and Spot.
 
I looked over, as I said. Two of the stupid fish are floating on their sides. I understand this is sort of the equivalent of fish indigestion (something about dried food, fat bellies and gas affecting their bouyancy). The lovely Dandy is spread-eagle on top of the gerbils' cage. He is hard and fast asleep. The gerbils are a bit annoyed because they like to sniff the cats while the cats sniff them, but he's not playing because he's out cold. So they're running round like nutters making a hellish noise.
 
I went for my camera but the batteries are as responsive as Dandy. Oh well, there's always tomorrow.
 
 

Mid-life crisis.

I'm getting a new car tomorrow. I'm aware this is showing off, but I've never had a new car before and I'm quite excited.

After driving for 22 (plus vat) years secondhand cars that I keep for ages and ages (this one 6 years, one before 11 years) I was quite giddy when my husband agreed to let me have one with only minimal nagging.

On the other hand, what the hell have I done? Why have I committed to spend so much of my hard earned dosh when my other car was perfectly fine, old, admittedly, but fine.

The ashtray wasn't even full.

Given a choice

as to whether you walk round minging or come round to our house for a shower, I know which I'd prefer. You know who you are.
 
See you soon.

It's my hobby, you know

There is a sale at my local favourite shoe shop at the moment. I went on Saturday with my 9 year old daughter and tried my hardest to find a pair I vaguely liked. I tried almost all of them from size 39 - 41 (I have no pride, and I was getting desperate.)

I don't need new shoes, I want new shoes.

I have hundreds of shoes/boots/slippers, I really don't have room for the ones I've got, but I wanted more. I needed more. I couldn't find any for me at all, so I did the next best thing and bought my daughter some.

My husband thinks its an obssession, but its not, it's my hobby, you know.

Sign of our times

I was out with Mad Jane, on Saturday night, in the small market town where she lives. This is supposedly a nice area to live in. There are a fair number of pubs and bars in the town and it is known for a lively night out.

We bumped into some friends we hadn't seen for a few weeks with the usual, ' Hi, haven't seen you for ages, where have you been?' but the last answer we were expecting was 'In hospital'.

Turns out that a few weeks back these 4 nice young men had been walking past the pub we were stood in (which is one of the busiest in town) and they had been attacked from behind. Three were already down in various states of consciousness and the fourth turned to look behind him.

He turned at the wrong time, and whatever was aiming for the back of his head hit him full in the face so hard that his skull snapped between his eyes and his nose was forced 1" into his skull.

The attackers ran off leaving two with minor injuries, one in a pool of blood choking on his tongue and the poor man with the displaced nose. The two with the worst injuries were told that they were lucky to be alive.

The incident was witnessed by a pub full of people. The knew who at least one of the attackers was, apparently well known for this sort of unprovoked attack. No-one will make a statement. No-one will stand as a witness. They either don't want to get involved or are too afraid of repercussions from this notorious local family.

I know similar incidents are happening all over, and, common with many people, I think 'How awful' but because its 100 miles away and I don't know the people involved it doesn't affect me too much. But now its happened to people I know in a place I visit regularly and the reality has slapped me in the face.

I would like to think that I would be willing to stand up and speak out if I were to witness something similar, but then its a small town, and I have two young children ...........

Anthony

If you find me you can have a better present than a dig-it-yourself dinosaur bones thingy.

I like Fridays

And not just because the weekend is so very close. I like Fridays because I usually have lunch with friends. We always go to the same place where the food is crap, the wine is ok, the staff are lovely and the company is familiar.

In my case, familiarity is not breeding contempt. I relish this hour or so I spend with people I really like even though some of them tease me mercilessly (yes, Anthony, you)

I know they are my friends. I know they are there if I need them. And that makes me realise I am very lucky indeed.

Down with brown

On Monday I got home from work at 6.45 and was almost bowled over by my daughter demanding I produce a brown long sleeved t-shirt and brown trousers for her to take to school the next day.

We are not a brown clothes family, we are a black clothes family. Between the four of us the only item of brown clothing was a suede skirt I got from Dorothy Perkins sale which would probably be big enough for half her class to camp in.

It was close to 8 o'clock when I finally managed to find out she was going to be a tree, in the end of term concert, and the dress rehearsal was on the Tuesday and the concert was on Thursday.

I told her I would do my best to get her brown things even though the shops were full of pink and lemon and pale blue and other summery colours. But, there was no way I could manage this before she went to school the next day. I wrote a letter to her teacher explaining all this and assured Ysabella that this really would be ok and that her teacher wouldn't hate her forever.

As luck (?) would have it, I had an unexpected day off (see Fit to Burst blog) so I cruised the local charity shops and did eventually manage to find (non-matching) brown shirt and trousers. I dashed back to school where the teacher smiled sweetly and said that I really shouldn't have gone to all that trouble.

That evening I washed the brown things, I dried the brown things, I turned up the trousers.

Last night it was the concert. In came the children. Some dressed as astronauts, some dressed as aliens, some dressed as planets, some dressed as black trees and one, yes ONE, dressed as a brown tree.

The concert was crap.

Self gratification

I can't believe how much better I feel. This blogging malarkey has hidden benefits. I had my little rant, my burden has been lifted and I feel much better for it.

I guess potentially my views are available for millions to see, but, realistically, who the hell is going to find them? I wouldn't know where to start, why should they? So, I am viewing this as purely being for my benefit. If anyone wants to look, then that's fine, but this is for me.

(And it's cheaper than stock-piling shoes and handbags)

Fit to burst

I've been meaning to do this for a while, but, like everything in my life, the reality of my 'To Do ASAP' pile is that it's 'May Do in 5 Years' but now I'm fit to burst and here is my first blog.

My 12 year old son has been in trouble with the police - sort of.

Well, 2 separate people reported him for 2 separate incidents on the same night. However, 2 days later it appears the police now believe my son's version of the events (or at least have decided the other people's statements are so unreliable) and have declared it to be 'the end of the matter'.

I don't think so. I am not a happy bunny. The police ended up going to my son's school for something he 'allegedly' did out of school hours, out of school uniform and 4 miles from the school premises.

They told me he would be excluded from school, photographed, finger-printed and have a sample of DNA taken. I was so upset I had to take a day's holiday from work. From my precious holiday entitlement, that I would prefer to spend with my kids. I used it fretting over a pile of bullshit fed to me by the police.

It's is most definitely NOT the end of the matter. I have sought legal advice, and that didn't tell me what I wanted to hear. But I bet a pound to a pinch of shit that there was some 'gossip' in the staff room involving the police appearing at school to see the teacher who reported my son, my son and what he was supposed to have done. Will there be the same level of gossip regarding the fact that this woman was talking rubbish and my son was innocent? Somehow, I don't think so.

I'm mad. Really mad.