Well the moment has finally arrived, I'm interviewing for two more members of my team. It's only taken 9 months to get round to it.
This time around we spared no expense and ran a single advert in the local Southampton Echo newspaper. Within two weeks we had nearly 50 applicants. Compare this to last December when we posted a single advert at the job centre and received a mammoth..... 2 responses.
After sifting through the CVs, covering notes, begging letters and bribes I managed to whittle the 50 down to 9. I called them up and arranged interviews, most of which I have now completed. (I've had one no-show, but out of 9 that's not a bad statistic). The hardest thing is now trimming the 8 I've seen down to two future staff members.
I think for the sake of privacy it would be wrong of me to go into details about each candidate, but what I can say is that choosing the top pair was an almost impossible task. I think the main problem is that I was only seeing the positive in people. If I found a fault I was calculating in my head how we could get round it. Everyone I interviewed had something good about them, and I could easily picture me training them for the next few weeks.
...oh except for one. I'll simply call him "Mr P". From the moment he sat down he kept spinning round on his chair. He spent most of his time looking around the office and asking about the TV systems we had. If I didn't know better I'd think he was casing the joint for a future burglary! At least that was one I could cross off the list.
I have narrowed it down though. Both are young (so we can get them cheap), and both live very close by (so early starts won't be a problem). Both have excellent numeracy skills and a passion for sport. One of them has a German A-Level (trust me, for this job that's important), and the other actually is German! Neither have to give notice at an existing job so by 1st August I could be the manager of a full team of odds compilers....
...about bloody time!
July 26, 2008
July 24, 2008
The Future's Shite - The Future's Orange Part II
After another 40 minute conversation with Orange, it appears that the Isle of Man has officially moved abroad. Despite the fact the website has no info on this, and despite the fact other networks don't charge you differently, Orange believe all texts to IOM should be charged at an International rate.
...so at the present moment a single text to Sarah costs me 20pence instead of 3pence.
I'm not getting a refund, I'm not getting an apology and they can't explain further. All they said was that I 'was lucky' to have only been charged the lower rate in the past.
Bye Bye Orange. My days with you as a provider as now coming to an end. I would say it was good while it lasted...
...but that would be a complete lie you bunch of thieving, money-grabbing parasites.
Rant over (for now)
...so at the present moment a single text to Sarah costs me 20pence instead of 3pence.
I'm not getting a refund, I'm not getting an apology and they can't explain further. All they said was that I 'was lucky' to have only been charged the lower rate in the past.
Bye Bye Orange. My days with you as a provider as now coming to an end. I would say it was good while it lasted...
...but that would be a complete lie you bunch of thieving, money-grabbing parasites.
Rant over (for now)
The Holy Grail of the Kitchen Part II
It's always eggs isn't it. Why do I have such a problem with eggs? This time, it was the simple task of boiling an egg to dip my soliders in that caused the trauma.
Sarah had kindly treated me to a set of 4 novelty egg cups when she was over with Caoimhe. The day before yesterday I decided to road test one of them by boiling an egg and making some toast soldiers for good measure. I'm not sure that I've ever boiled an egg before , but it can't be that difficult. From what I can remember it goes something like this:
Place a pan of water on the hob.
Switch the hob on.
Wait til the first bubble comes to the surface.
Add egg
Remove egg after three minutes.
Eat soft boiled egg.
Step 1. No problem.
Step 2. No problem (well actually I turned the wrong ring on first, but it didn't take me long to realise when I could smell burning plastic coming from my melting spatular)
Step 3. I was a bit unsure here, didn't know what constituted a proper 'bubble'. Almost as soon as I'd turned the heat on there were bubbles, but I waited longer than that. After about 4 minutes there were proper 'big' bubbles, so I took this to mean the water was ready.
Step 4. Hmm. My egg seemed to be the wrong shape for my tongs, but after some careful co-ordination I managed to pick it up and lower it into the pan.
Step 5. I went back to watching Frasier on TV and used the clock in the corner of the screen to time my egg. After 3 full minutes I returned to the kitchen, removed the pan from the heat and lifted the egg from the pan using a spoon.
Step 6. Not a chance. I managed to get the egg into the cup, but found that my little egg was far too small for it's holder. Only a few millimetres of shell was showing over the rim of the cup! Never mind, I took a knife and gently tapped at the side. The shell cracked neatly all the way round and I lifted the 'lid' off....
...the egg was almost raw. There was a thin coating of 'white' around the edges, but the central yolk was liquid, and the remainder of the egg white was still clear. What a waste of an egg.....
.... but no. I whipped out my frying pan, added a little oil, used the hob that was still hot from the boiling water and poured the uncooked boiled egg in. Fried egg instead of boiled. I assume my problem was my interpretation of what was boling water, and what was mearly hot water. Never mind...
...at least the egg didn't go to waste.
p.s. I have boiled eggs actually. When I worked in the sandwich shop in Douglas. Problem there though was it was 60 eggs at a time, and we left them on til their shells cracked naturally because we needed them to be hard boiled. Not quite the same.
Sarah had kindly treated me to a set of 4 novelty egg cups when she was over with Caoimhe. The day before yesterday I decided to road test one of them by boiling an egg and making some toast soldiers for good measure. I'm not sure that I've ever boiled an egg before , but it can't be that difficult. From what I can remember it goes something like this:
Place a pan of water on the hob.
Switch the hob on.
Wait til the first bubble comes to the surface.
Add egg
Remove egg after three minutes.
Eat soft boiled egg.
Step 1. No problem.
Step 2. No problem (well actually I turned the wrong ring on first, but it didn't take me long to realise when I could smell burning plastic coming from my melting spatular)
Step 3. I was a bit unsure here, didn't know what constituted a proper 'bubble'. Almost as soon as I'd turned the heat on there were bubbles, but I waited longer than that. After about 4 minutes there were proper 'big' bubbles, so I took this to mean the water was ready.
Step 4. Hmm. My egg seemed to be the wrong shape for my tongs, but after some careful co-ordination I managed to pick it up and lower it into the pan.
Step 5. I went back to watching Frasier on TV and used the clock in the corner of the screen to time my egg. After 3 full minutes I returned to the kitchen, removed the pan from the heat and lifted the egg from the pan using a spoon.
Step 6. Not a chance. I managed to get the egg into the cup, but found that my little egg was far too small for it's holder. Only a few millimetres of shell was showing over the rim of the cup! Never mind, I took a knife and gently tapped at the side. The shell cracked neatly all the way round and I lifted the 'lid' off....
...the egg was almost raw. There was a thin coating of 'white' around the edges, but the central yolk was liquid, and the remainder of the egg white was still clear. What a waste of an egg.....
.... but no. I whipped out my frying pan, added a little oil, used the hob that was still hot from the boiling water and poured the uncooked boiled egg in. Fried egg instead of boiled. I assume my problem was my interpretation of what was boling water, and what was mearly hot water. Never mind...
...at least the egg didn't go to waste.
p.s. I have boiled eggs actually. When I worked in the sandwich shop in Douglas. Problem there though was it was 60 eggs at a time, and we left them on til their shells cracked naturally because we needed them to be hard boiled. Not quite the same.
July 19, 2008
The Future's Shite - The Future's Orange
This is a large-scale rant at the incompetence of Orange, the multinational communications company.
Since I moved to the South Coast I have been using an Orange pay-as-you-go SIM card for my mobile phone. No real problems, easy to top up, cheap calls - everything was going along smoothly. Most of my texting and calling was to the Isle of Man, intially Jackie and since April to Sarah. I was able to 'buy' 500 texts for £15 meaning a single text was as low as 3 pence....
...then it all went pear-shaped. Last week I purchased another 500 texts. I tried to text Sarah but it wasn't sending properly. After a bit of investigation I realised that Isle of Man texts were now costing me 20 pence, Orange's international rate, and my 'free' texts were not being used up. Naturally I was furious. Had the Isle of Man suddenly floated away from the coast of Great Britain? Did I need a passport and visa to step off the ferry? I phoned Orange's 'help' line...
...35 minutes later and a lot of hair pulling I was told that my problem has been passed to the billing department. I would receive a response within 48 hours and any appropriate refund would be made to my account. This is the text message I received two days later (written EXACTLY as it was sent):
Hi, regarding text message getting charged when sending outside...the billing team enquired that multibundle that's been added is only for uk...no refund...thanx
Imagine getting a message like that from a supposedly worldwide firm. Not only was it poorly written, it didn't even answer the right question. I had to call back...
...After another 35 minute conversation I finally managed to get the operator to understand my problem. When he looked back at a previous text to IOM he could see it cost me 10 pence, and last week the same number had cost me 20 pence. Initially he was looking at a text I sent to Ireland. Neither this staff member, or the previous one could get their heads around the concept of the Isle of Man. Again he said he would pass it on to the billing department so I wait with baited breath for another wonderfully crafted message from them.
...rant over (unless the problem doesn't get fixed soon)
Since I moved to the South Coast I have been using an Orange pay-as-you-go SIM card for my mobile phone. No real problems, easy to top up, cheap calls - everything was going along smoothly. Most of my texting and calling was to the Isle of Man, intially Jackie and since April to Sarah. I was able to 'buy' 500 texts for £15 meaning a single text was as low as 3 pence....
...then it all went pear-shaped. Last week I purchased another 500 texts. I tried to text Sarah but it wasn't sending properly. After a bit of investigation I realised that Isle of Man texts were now costing me 20 pence, Orange's international rate, and my 'free' texts were not being used up. Naturally I was furious. Had the Isle of Man suddenly floated away from the coast of Great Britain? Did I need a passport and visa to step off the ferry? I phoned Orange's 'help' line...
...35 minutes later and a lot of hair pulling I was told that my problem has been passed to the billing department. I would receive a response within 48 hours and any appropriate refund would be made to my account. This is the text message I received two days later (written EXACTLY as it was sent):
Hi, regarding text message getting charged when sending outside...the billing team enquired that multibundle that's been added is only for uk...no refund...thanx
Imagine getting a message like that from a supposedly worldwide firm. Not only was it poorly written, it didn't even answer the right question. I had to call back...
...After another 35 minute conversation I finally managed to get the operator to understand my problem. When he looked back at a previous text to IOM he could see it cost me 10 pence, and last week the same number had cost me 20 pence. Initially he was looking at a text I sent to Ireland. Neither this staff member, or the previous one could get their heads around the concept of the Isle of Man. Again he said he would pass it on to the billing department so I wait with baited breath for another wonderfully crafted message from them.
...rant over (unless the problem doesn't get fixed soon)
July 18, 2008
The Real Hustle
This entry should really have been made about 2 weeks ago, but with one thing and another it slipped my mind. Take yourself back to a week last Friday (4th July). I was finishing up at work and about to start my holiday...
...it was late - very late in fact, past midnight I think. I left the office and picked up a small chinese take-away from across the road. (If you need a full picture it was hot & sour soup, special foo-yung and a portion of chips) As I set off down the road I was approached by a man who walked with a distinctive swagger. If I didn't know better I'd say he was a little bit tipsy. As he got closer I noticed his face was caked in dried blood. Perhaps the swagger wasn't alcohol induced after all.
"Where's my wallet?"
That was his opening line. No "Hello, how are you?" or "Nice weather for the time of year", just
"Where's my wallet?"
Normally I would have politely replied and then quickened up my pace but the blood was worrying me. It wasn't fake and if he's lost his wallet this might not be the result of a bar fight. Perhpas he'd been mugged. In the back of my mind I knew we were only a few yards from where a yound girl had been badly attacked a few months back.
I decided to be firm and direct.
"Do you need help. Can I get the police or an ambulance for you?"
"Where's my wallet? Have you got my wallet?"
"No, I haven't seen your wallet but you need help. Do you want the police?"
"Some bastard has run off with my wallet" (sorry for the profanity but I'm trying to keep it as real as possible)
"Ok, I'm calling the police. Rest against the railings there."
At this point he seemed quite calm and waited whilst I spoke to the police. I did my best to describe the situation, the hardest part was when they asked for my location. In the end I directed the operator via the pubs I knew. (typical eh?)
As soon as I hung up I turned to the injured man and found him ferreting around in a small bush at the side of the railings. Within seconds he'd pocketed something and flew at top speed down the road. Now I was stranded. I had a police car on it's way, possibly an ambulance, but no injured man. Just me and my chinese take-away (which by this point was starting to get cold).
My mobile rang. It was the police operator calling me back.
"I'm glad you called back. I think I've been caught out by some kind of scam or hoax. As soon as I hung up he ran off down Canute Road"
"Thought so", she replied, "You're the second call we've had tonight about a blood stained individual.
"I don't understand though, he never asked for money, he just seemed to want his wallet back, but I think he had it hidden in the bushes."
"Important thing is sir, do you still have your wallet?"
If only you could have seen my face then. Frantically I tapped all my pockets. Thankfully my wallet was still buried deep in my overcoat. The operator praised me for calling and after taking a description of the man she said it was ok for me to go home. I was worried that an ambulance was going to turn up and I would be charged with wasting police time, but the ambulance had been cancelled. A patrol car would circle the area to see if they could pick up the man. I think the operator was hungry because when I said I was off to warm up my take-away she kept me on the phone for another 2 minutes while she made me describe what I had ordered!
..but I'm still unsure as to what the scam or hustle was. Was he going to pick-pocket me? Was he going to try and get friendly with me and then ask to borrow taxi fare or something? Why did he let me call the emergency services if he was a crook? Guess I'll never know but...
...it has made me less likely to help out a stranger in the future.
...it was late - very late in fact, past midnight I think. I left the office and picked up a small chinese take-away from across the road. (If you need a full picture it was hot & sour soup, special foo-yung and a portion of chips) As I set off down the road I was approached by a man who walked with a distinctive swagger. If I didn't know better I'd say he was a little bit tipsy. As he got closer I noticed his face was caked in dried blood. Perhaps the swagger wasn't alcohol induced after all.
"Where's my wallet?"
That was his opening line. No "Hello, how are you?" or "Nice weather for the time of year", just
"Where's my wallet?"
Normally I would have politely replied and then quickened up my pace but the blood was worrying me. It wasn't fake and if he's lost his wallet this might not be the result of a bar fight. Perhpas he'd been mugged. In the back of my mind I knew we were only a few yards from where a yound girl had been badly attacked a few months back.
I decided to be firm and direct.
"Do you need help. Can I get the police or an ambulance for you?"
"Where's my wallet? Have you got my wallet?"
"No, I haven't seen your wallet but you need help. Do you want the police?"
"Some bastard has run off with my wallet" (sorry for the profanity but I'm trying to keep it as real as possible)
"Ok, I'm calling the police. Rest against the railings there."
At this point he seemed quite calm and waited whilst I spoke to the police. I did my best to describe the situation, the hardest part was when they asked for my location. In the end I directed the operator via the pubs I knew. (typical eh?)
As soon as I hung up I turned to the injured man and found him ferreting around in a small bush at the side of the railings. Within seconds he'd pocketed something and flew at top speed down the road. Now I was stranded. I had a police car on it's way, possibly an ambulance, but no injured man. Just me and my chinese take-away (which by this point was starting to get cold).
My mobile rang. It was the police operator calling me back.
"I'm glad you called back. I think I've been caught out by some kind of scam or hoax. As soon as I hung up he ran off down Canute Road"
"Thought so", she replied, "You're the second call we've had tonight about a blood stained individual.
"I don't understand though, he never asked for money, he just seemed to want his wallet back, but I think he had it hidden in the bushes."
"Important thing is sir, do you still have your wallet?"
If only you could have seen my face then. Frantically I tapped all my pockets. Thankfully my wallet was still buried deep in my overcoat. The operator praised me for calling and after taking a description of the man she said it was ok for me to go home. I was worried that an ambulance was going to turn up and I would be charged with wasting police time, but the ambulance had been cancelled. A patrol car would circle the area to see if they could pick up the man. I think the operator was hungry because when I said I was off to warm up my take-away she kept me on the phone for another 2 minutes while she made me describe what I had ordered!
..but I'm still unsure as to what the scam or hustle was. Was he going to pick-pocket me? Was he going to try and get friendly with me and then ask to borrow taxi fare or something? Why did he let me call the emergency services if he was a crook? Guess I'll never know but...
...it has made me less likely to help out a stranger in the future.
July 17, 2008
Tara
Another entry relating to my time off work! You'll be getting sick of these soon.
On the Sunday, Tara came to visit me. I haven't seen her for more than 5 years when she left the Isle of Man to relocate to Ireland. We worked together at HSBC for several years before that and always got on really well.
It was so lovely to see her again. The short time she was over just flew past as we reminised about old times and old friends. After a meal together in the local pub with Sarah and baby, We had the chance to stay out for a few more drinks in the evening, so we really made the most of the time we had. It was also the first occasion I'd been out in Southampton after hours since I got here, so that was an added bonus!
She left the next day, but hopefully it won't be long before I see her again. Could be a good excuse for a trip over to Ireland. :o)
She hasn't changed a bit. She was always a great friend and still is. I'm so glad she managed to track me down and make contact. Good friends don't come along very often, so it's important to hold on to them when they do.
She confirmed something for me too....
....my bed is impossible to sleep in successfully!
On the Sunday, Tara came to visit me. I haven't seen her for more than 5 years when she left the Isle of Man to relocate to Ireland. We worked together at HSBC for several years before that and always got on really well.
It was so lovely to see her again. The short time she was over just flew past as we reminised about old times and old friends. After a meal together in the local pub with Sarah and baby, We had the chance to stay out for a few more drinks in the evening, so we really made the most of the time we had. It was also the first occasion I'd been out in Southampton after hours since I got here, so that was an added bonus!
She left the next day, but hopefully it won't be long before I see her again. Could be a good excuse for a trip over to Ireland. :o)
She hasn't changed a bit. She was always a great friend and still is. I'm so glad she managed to track me down and make contact. Good friends don't come along very often, so it's important to hold on to them when they do.
She confirmed something for me too....
....my bed is impossible to sleep in successfully!
IOW vs IOM Part II
Well, not really a comparison between the islands this time, just an entry about my second adventure to the Isle of Wight.
On this occasion it was a spontaneous day visit on the fast-craft. I was really impressed with the efficiency of the loading and unloading of the boat. Considering the car ferry takes an hour for the trip over, with 30 minutes 'turn around time', the fast-craft is 23 minutes and only needs another 5 before it sets off again on the return leg. Granted it's only for foot passengers, and they can also get away without mooring it properly, but still... I was impressed.
The other major benefit of this vessle is that it docks in West Cowes. If you remember back to my previous Isle of Wight entry, the car ferry brings you into East Cowes - a proverbial dump. West Cowes, in stark contrast, is very beautiful. We just about had nice weather (a little chilly and overcast) but nothing to dampen our spirits.
After an energy boosting snack in a cafe, and a walk along the marina, we caught the bus to Newport, and then onto Ryde. Why has Ryde got so many charity shops? It was a little too windy for bucket and spades on the beach - and besides, I don't think Caoimhe's old enough to appreciate my sand sculptors just yet. After a constitutional drink, and a bit of window shopping we headed back to Newport.
Newport was surprisingly small. I somehow expected something a little 'bigger' considering it's the capital. After a look around the shops it was back to Cowes for the return ferry - home in time for tea. All in all a terrific day and I'm glad I decided to give the island a second chance.
....Eegon's cafe in West Cowes gets a big thumbs up for their bacon and egg butties.
On this occasion it was a spontaneous day visit on the fast-craft. I was really impressed with the efficiency of the loading and unloading of the boat. Considering the car ferry takes an hour for the trip over, with 30 minutes 'turn around time', the fast-craft is 23 minutes and only needs another 5 before it sets off again on the return leg. Granted it's only for foot passengers, and they can also get away without mooring it properly, but still... I was impressed.
The other major benefit of this vessle is that it docks in West Cowes. If you remember back to my previous Isle of Wight entry, the car ferry brings you into East Cowes - a proverbial dump. West Cowes, in stark contrast, is very beautiful. We just about had nice weather (a little chilly and overcast) but nothing to dampen our spirits.
After an energy boosting snack in a cafe, and a walk along the marina, we caught the bus to Newport, and then onto Ryde. Why has Ryde got so many charity shops? It was a little too windy for bucket and spades on the beach - and besides, I don't think Caoimhe's old enough to appreciate my sand sculptors just yet. After a constitutional drink, and a bit of window shopping we headed back to Newport.
Newport was surprisingly small. I somehow expected something a little 'bigger' considering it's the capital. After a look around the shops it was back to Cowes for the return ferry - home in time for tea. All in all a terrific day and I'm glad I decided to give the island a second chance.
....Eegon's cafe in West Cowes gets a big thumbs up for their bacon and egg butties.
Meeting the In-Laws
While Sarah and Caoimhe were with me, we all took a brief trip over to Jersey to visit her Father. He works there as a prison security guard. Understandably I was extremely nervous, it's always difficult to meet the family for the first time. To increase the tension, Sarah and her step-mother are not on very good speaking terms at the moment.
Thankfully it all seemed to go very well. Sarah's Dad was very pleasant towards me. I initially thought he was a little cold, but I was reassured that was just his way. The fact that he hadn't ripped off my arm and used it as a weapon against me was a good sign :o) We visited the war tunnels in the morning which was a fascinating experience and in the evening he cooked for us all. The tension was there but not as bad as it might have been. All in all it was a very pleasant trip. Ashley, Sarah's step-sister was very friendly and bubbly and everyone at the table kept the conversation flowing so there were no embarrassing silences.
Caoimhe was a star on the flights in and out of the island. On the first trip she was a little bit cranky before we took off, but on the return leg she slept right through. One thing to bear in mind though if you are planning a visit to the Channel Islands....
...Jersey airport security staff only have one brain cell between them.
Thankfully it all seemed to go very well. Sarah's Dad was very pleasant towards me. I initially thought he was a little cold, but I was reassured that was just his way. The fact that he hadn't ripped off my arm and used it as a weapon against me was a good sign :o) We visited the war tunnels in the morning which was a fascinating experience and in the evening he cooked for us all. The tension was there but not as bad as it might have been. All in all it was a very pleasant trip. Ashley, Sarah's step-sister was very friendly and bubbly and everyone at the table kept the conversation flowing so there were no embarrassing silences.
Caoimhe was a star on the flights in and out of the island. On the first trip she was a little bit cranky before we took off, but on the return leg she slept right through. One thing to bear in mind though if you are planning a visit to the Channel Islands....
...Jersey airport security staff only have one brain cell between them.
Anybody Miss Me?
You may have realised that there hasn't been any new entries for a while. I do have a valid excuse this time. Sarah and Caoimhe have been over to visit me for the past ten days so I took the time off work, and hence didn't have computer access.
It's been wonderful. A chance to spend time as a family. Just doing normal day to day tasks with someone else there has been a real treat for me. I'm missing them both already, but it's only about 6 weeks til we meet up again to go to Norfolk.
Having Sarah here has taught me a few things about myself too. Some I probably already knew, but others were an interesting revalation:
1. I hate shopping. I knew I wasn't a fan of it, but now I know it's officially one of my least liked activities.
2. I can't cook jacket potatoes properly. Well I can, but not when they are all different sizes.
3. I can't hum the high note of the Midsomer Murders theme tune without making my eyes pop out of my head. This alone is enough to put certain people into fits of hysterical laughter.
4. My impression of a startled rabbit on a motorbike is scarily accurate. This can also have the same laughter effect.
5. I am a lot better dealing with babies than I thought I was. I had no problems with the feeding, winding, cuddling and putting Caoimhe to sleep. I admit I only changed one nappy, but I was happy to deal with the nappy sacks and sick moments. It probably helped that she is such a well behaved child.
6. I like Tiramisu, despite the fact it's coffee flavoured and I can't stand coffee.
....and 7. I know far too much about Jonathan Creek
July 04, 2008
General Update
I feel I need to update the world on where I am right now.
Firstly, I've had more response to the 'blog removed' entry than I had to any other post. I suppose it's natural to want to know the details of something bad. Those that need to know, are now informed to the details of the missing text. If anyone else is still curious, then please feel free to let the matter pass.
Secondly, I have attempted two more omelettes since my master class attempt. Both failures. I really think I've peaked in the egg based department. I'l stick to fried and scrambled from now on.
Thirdly, my current persona is quite high. I'm no longer in a 'bad place'. Largely this is to do with Sarah and Caoimhe coming to visit, but it also can be contributed to Tara tracking me down too. Tara is an old work mate from the early HSBC days. Such a lovely person to work with, it's going to be great to have a chance to catch up on missed gossip.
I won't hide the fact that I don't like myself. I'm not proud of the way I've led my life, but I'm trying my best to get out of the rut. It's going to take time, and I'm not always confident I'm strong enough to make it, but every day that passes is a day closer to the end of the tunnel.
Thank you to everyone who has been there for me so far. Please remember though that this blog is a personal record for me. I welcome feedback, comments, support - even criticism if it's constructive - but please leave it as comments on the blog. My feelings are open, so any feeback you have should be open too. If you read something that you feel needs to be addressed then leave a 'comment'.
...I love you all x
Firstly, I've had more response to the 'blog removed' entry than I had to any other post. I suppose it's natural to want to know the details of something bad. Those that need to know, are now informed to the details of the missing text. If anyone else is still curious, then please feel free to let the matter pass.
Secondly, I have attempted two more omelettes since my master class attempt. Both failures. I really think I've peaked in the egg based department. I'l stick to fried and scrambled from now on.
Thirdly, my current persona is quite high. I'm no longer in a 'bad place'. Largely this is to do with Sarah and Caoimhe coming to visit, but it also can be contributed to Tara tracking me down too. Tara is an old work mate from the early HSBC days. Such a lovely person to work with, it's going to be great to have a chance to catch up on missed gossip.
I won't hide the fact that I don't like myself. I'm not proud of the way I've led my life, but I'm trying my best to get out of the rut. It's going to take time, and I'm not always confident I'm strong enough to make it, but every day that passes is a day closer to the end of the tunnel.
Thank you to everyone who has been there for me so far. Please remember though that this blog is a personal record for me. I welcome feedback, comments, support - even criticism if it's constructive - but please leave it as comments on the blog. My feelings are open, so any feeback you have should be open too. If you read something that you feel needs to be addressed then leave a 'comment'.
...I love you all x
July 02, 2008
The Holy Grail of the Kitchen
After years of trying, I conquered my demons and fulfilled my destiny. Last night I finally made a perfect omelette.
I'm not a bad cook. I know how to follow a recipe and I make a pretty decent Sunday lunch but I have never been able to make an omelette successfully. Every time I've tried, it's always turned into scrambled egg. There has always been an issue when it comes to the folding bit and no matter what I do the omelette has always broken up. The food hasn't gone to waste, it still remains edible, it's just the lack of presentation that was alluding me.
I had tried everything. Varying how hard I beat the eggs, adding the filling at different stages, using different sized pans, trying an array of heat settings - you name it, I've given it a whirl. Always the same result though... oeufs brouilles.
Last night as it approached midnight I decided I was hungry. I realised I hadn't eaten anything all day except for a small sausage roll and a chopped up apple at work. I needed something quick and easy so another attempt at a cheese omelette it would be. Resigning myself to the fact I would actually be snacking on an eggy mush I set to work.
Instead of going at it like a military operation I just went with what ever 'felt right'. Set the pan warming, added a little oil. Whilst that heated I beat three eggs in a pyrex jug and added a bit of black pepper. I grated some cheese in readiness and went for it.
Poured the eggs into the pan, moved it around, lifted the edge occasionally to allow excess liquid to flow. I added the cheese to one side and then lifted one side with my spatula....it lifted in one, light, piece.
I folded it over and the underside was a gorgeous golden brown, an even colour right across the whole of the base. I then lifted the folded omelette out of the pan, onto a plate and just stared at it. Why were there no witnesses to this monumental acheivement?
But how did it taste? Heaven. So light and fluffy in the middle. Just the right amount of seasoning and cheese....
...I'll take a picture next time! :o)
I'm not a bad cook. I know how to follow a recipe and I make a pretty decent Sunday lunch but I have never been able to make an omelette successfully. Every time I've tried, it's always turned into scrambled egg. There has always been an issue when it comes to the folding bit and no matter what I do the omelette has always broken up. The food hasn't gone to waste, it still remains edible, it's just the lack of presentation that was alluding me.
I had tried everything. Varying how hard I beat the eggs, adding the filling at different stages, using different sized pans, trying an array of heat settings - you name it, I've given it a whirl. Always the same result though... oeufs brouilles.
Last night as it approached midnight I decided I was hungry. I realised I hadn't eaten anything all day except for a small sausage roll and a chopped up apple at work. I needed something quick and easy so another attempt at a cheese omelette it would be. Resigning myself to the fact I would actually be snacking on an eggy mush I set to work.
Instead of going at it like a military operation I just went with what ever 'felt right'. Set the pan warming, added a little oil. Whilst that heated I beat three eggs in a pyrex jug and added a bit of black pepper. I grated some cheese in readiness and went for it.
Poured the eggs into the pan, moved it around, lifted the edge occasionally to allow excess liquid to flow. I added the cheese to one side and then lifted one side with my spatula....it lifted in one, light, piece.
I folded it over and the underside was a gorgeous golden brown, an even colour right across the whole of the base. I then lifted the folded omelette out of the pan, onto a plate and just stared at it. Why were there no witnesses to this monumental acheivement?
But how did it taste? Heaven. So light and fluffy in the middle. Just the right amount of seasoning and cheese....
...I'll take a picture next time! :o)
June 28, 2008
Note to All
There was another blog entry here earlier. It was posted for about 16 hours. It recalled an incident in my life from 18 months ago, and was posted as a reminder to myself.
I have chosen to remove it on the grounds that it could cause distress to other people. I am not a fan of censorship in any form, but in this case I feel it was justified. Some things are best left buried.
If you happened to read the entry whilst it was posted, then I apologise. I have kept the text, so I can read it to myself whenever I need to, but there is no need for other people to do likewise. If you did read it, please bear in mind it was 18 months ago. I was in a 'different place' back then.
...and thank you sis x
I have chosen to remove it on the grounds that it could cause distress to other people. I am not a fan of censorship in any form, but in this case I feel it was justified. Some things are best left buried.
If you happened to read the entry whilst it was posted, then I apologise. I have kept the text, so I can read it to myself whenever I need to, but there is no need for other people to do likewise. If you did read it, please bear in mind it was 18 months ago. I was in a 'different place' back then.
...and thank you sis x
June 23, 2008
Resolutions Part II
If you're wondering where part one is, you'll need to head back to a blog entry from December 20th
As we are approaching the half-way point of 2008, thought I'd review how my 4 New Year's resolutions have held up.
1. Visit IOM as often as possible. - Happy with this one. I've been back as often as money and work would allow. When there, I haven't wasted any time, always met up with the friends I planned to. Had it's benefits too. If it hadn't been for the trips back, I wouldn't have got together with Sarah. 1-nil to me.
2. Take time away from alcohol - Hmmm, not easy to judge this one. Yes I have had spells where I haven't been drinking, but I don't think I've quite acheived what I set out to do. Need to work on this, but if you've read the previous post to this one, right now I'm not in a good frame of mind for being positive about myself. I'm afraid I've lost out on this resolution so far, so that makes the current score 1-1.
3. Get the train away from Southampton and explore. - Well I definately haven't kept up with this resolution....BUT in hindsight it wasn't a promise it would be easy to keep if I also succeeded with number 1 above. I HAVE been to the Isle of Wight with my parents, and I HAVE been on the train several times to get back to Manchester, but money and work commitments means any other trips would be hard to accomplish. I'm putting this one down as a no score draw, so it's still 1-1.
4. Keep Bob alive. - Big success here. Bob is alive and well and still staring out of my bedroom window. He has two new flowers and a multitude of lush, green leaves. I never took his girlfriend home with me, she still lives in the office, but as far as the resolution goes this one is a big success. 2-1 to me.
My report card would say: Good start to the year, room for improvement in the second half. Need to concentrate on the alcohol issue.
...Grade? C+ Good, but could do better.
As we are approaching the half-way point of 2008, thought I'd review how my 4 New Year's resolutions have held up.
1. Visit IOM as often as possible. - Happy with this one. I've been back as often as money and work would allow. When there, I haven't wasted any time, always met up with the friends I planned to. Had it's benefits too. If it hadn't been for the trips back, I wouldn't have got together with Sarah. 1-nil to me.
2. Take time away from alcohol - Hmmm, not easy to judge this one. Yes I have had spells where I haven't been drinking, but I don't think I've quite acheived what I set out to do. Need to work on this, but if you've read the previous post to this one, right now I'm not in a good frame of mind for being positive about myself. I'm afraid I've lost out on this resolution so far, so that makes the current score 1-1.
3. Get the train away from Southampton and explore. - Well I definately haven't kept up with this resolution....BUT in hindsight it wasn't a promise it would be easy to keep if I also succeeded with number 1 above. I HAVE been to the Isle of Wight with my parents, and I HAVE been on the train several times to get back to Manchester, but money and work commitments means any other trips would be hard to accomplish. I'm putting this one down as a no score draw, so it's still 1-1.
4. Keep Bob alive. - Big success here. Bob is alive and well and still staring out of my bedroom window. He has two new flowers and a multitude of lush, green leaves. I never took his girlfriend home with me, she still lives in the office, but as far as the resolution goes this one is a big success. 2-1 to me.
My report card would say: Good start to the year, room for improvement in the second half. Need to concentrate on the alcohol issue.
...Grade? C+ Good, but could do better.
Back to Square One
It's all starting again. I don't know why but it feels like my life is on a slippery slope downwards.
I can't put my finger on what it is, but there is something fundamental that is dragging me backwards. I have that sensation that the light at the end of the tunnel has dimmed, and everything I do is ultimately pointless.
I'm having real trouble getting more than an hours sleep. I've started drinking unsocialably again. I hardly eat, and when I do it's usually something unsuitable. My psoriasis is back on my scalp - a sure sign I'm stressed about something.
What's really bugging me is I can't work out why this is happening. It's not money. I get paid this week, and I still have money left in my account. It's not my love life. I hate being apart from Sarah, but at least she is there for me. Last time I was this depressed I was completely alone. It's not that there is nothing to look forward to. I have Sarah and Caoimhe coming to visit in two weeks, then the boys for two race meetings, and the little Norfolk holiday of course.
It's having a knock-on effect too. I've started making fundamental errors at work. Some I've spotted myself and corrected, but others have been found by customers and staff in Germany. There is only so long the bosses are going to put up with me just saying 'sorry'. I usally take great pride in my high level of accuracy, but right now my work rate is shockingly low and of poor quality.
I'm also in a catch-22 situation with the lack of sleep. When I get into work at 7am I end up drinking American cola drinks for the high levels of caffeine. If I didn't I wouldn't make it through the morning. Trouble is, it's still in my system when it comes to night-time - it keeps me awake and I'm back to square one.
....I just want a dark corner I can curl up in and hide from the world.
I can't put my finger on what it is, but there is something fundamental that is dragging me backwards. I have that sensation that the light at the end of the tunnel has dimmed, and everything I do is ultimately pointless.
I'm having real trouble getting more than an hours sleep. I've started drinking unsocialably again. I hardly eat, and when I do it's usually something unsuitable. My psoriasis is back on my scalp - a sure sign I'm stressed about something.
What's really bugging me is I can't work out why this is happening. It's not money. I get paid this week, and I still have money left in my account. It's not my love life. I hate being apart from Sarah, but at least she is there for me. Last time I was this depressed I was completely alone. It's not that there is nothing to look forward to. I have Sarah and Caoimhe coming to visit in two weeks, then the boys for two race meetings, and the little Norfolk holiday of course.
It's having a knock-on effect too. I've started making fundamental errors at work. Some I've spotted myself and corrected, but others have been found by customers and staff in Germany. There is only so long the bosses are going to put up with me just saying 'sorry'. I usally take great pride in my high level of accuracy, but right now my work rate is shockingly low and of poor quality.
I'm also in a catch-22 situation with the lack of sleep. When I get into work at 7am I end up drinking American cola drinks for the high levels of caffeine. If I didn't I wouldn't make it through the morning. Trouble is, it's still in my system when it comes to night-time - it keeps me awake and I'm back to square one.
....I just want a dark corner I can curl up in and hide from the world.
June 20, 2008
Relativity
As promised, here is the other photograph I fell in love with. Nothing has been doctored or altered, it's just a clever use of angle. You can also see why it reminded me of Relativity by M.C. Escher.
Nighthawks
I thought I'd write a little entry about the picture I've used as my title background. I've copied it into the blog itself in case I change the title at a future date, and make this entry obsolete.Most of you know I am a keen user of Facebook. It's a wonderful way of sharing information with friends and former work colleagues as well as meeting new and interesting people. One such person is Andrea from Scunthorpe. I've never met her in person, and it's unlikely I ever will, but our profiles are linked together so we get to view each others photos and updates.
On one occasion, one of Andrea's friends posted a series of photographs onto the web. By the look of the pictures, this person works as a fashion photographer as most of the other entries were of models, clothes and shoes. In amongst those though were one or two landscape and 'artistic' shots - this one included. It was an instant hit with me. Everything about it was perfect. I want to know what the cafe customers are talking about. I can feel the warm rain on my face. The blurred person on the crossing gives an inanimate picture a sense of movement. It works so well in sepia too, I don't think I would have been so instantly drawn to it if it had been full colour. I got in touch with Andrea, who in turn got in touch with the photographer and she kindly gave me permission to reproduce it for my own use, including this blog.
You may wonder why I have called this entry 'Nighthawks'. It's the name of a painting by Edward Hopper that I first came across in 1986 in the film Ferris Bueller's Day off. Not long after that I saw a spoof version of the picture where the central figures were replaced by Marilyn Monroe, Elvis and James Dean. It wasn't until a few years ago that I found out the pictures title, thanks again to the movies, Hard Candy this time.
As you'll see, there isn't anything physically similar between the two, but when I saw the photograph, it reminded me so much of Nighthawks. Perhaps it's the fact that we have a cafe and street scene simultaneously in both...
...or perhaps I'm just going potty!
I may add another entry later concerning another photograph from the same source. They captured an image of a staircase and made it look exactly like an Escher painting.
June 15, 2008
Agatha Christie: The Case of the Missing Lightbulb
A curious thing has happened. A lightbulb has gone missing. Not the most dramatic of crimes I agree, but still confusing enough to have my little grey cells working overtime trying to figure it out. It all started on Wednesday when I returned from the cricket...
...now I admit I was a little worse for wear. Memory from the moment I stepped onto the bus home to the moment my pizza turned up is a little hazy, but I was still at a loss to explain where the hall lightbulb had vanished to.
Ok, the full story. I returned from the cricket just after 9pm and entered my flat. I do remember a lightbulb 'blowing' when I flicked on the switch sometime that night, but for the life of me I can't remember which one. The rest of the evening was just taken up with ordering pizza, eating pizza, watching TV and sleep.
Ok, jump forward to today, Sunday. I get up very early this morning to visit the bathroom and turn on the hall light. Nothing. Ah ha! I've found the blown bulb. It must have been the hall light that expired and now I can buy a replacement one. That would make sense too. I wouldn't have needed to turn on the hall light between Wednesday and today, so all is explained. All I need to do now is take out the old one, check if it's a bayonnette or screw fitting and I can buy a replacement....
....but the bulb isn't there. The hall light didn't come on because there is no bulb in the socket. Nothing. That really knocked me for 6. (sorry for the cricket pun!) Where had the bulb gone?
First thought. Maybe I took it out in my hazy state on Wednesday when it blew. That would mean the old bulb is sat on the dining table or is in the kitchen bin...... nope. The old bulb is nowhere to be found.
Second thought. The landlord has been round uninvited. No, too far fetched. He would phone first, and even if it was him, why remove a single lightbulb?
Third thought. Burglars. I have been worried about the lack of post recently. Has someone got unauthorised access to my flat and is stealing my mail? Surely not. Why steal a single lightbulb too?
Final thought (and the real answer). Last Wednesday it wasn't the hall light that broke, it was somewhere more vital. My bedroom. With the curtains drawn it can be pitch black in there, and my floor is a death trap of video cases and dirty laundry at the moment. Having no spares I 'borrowed' the hall light to replace the broken one knowing the hall one was less vital. My intention must have been to replace the hall bulb the next day - but by the time I woke the next morning all memory of the bulb swapping had been erased. It was only finding an empty socket this morning that set my brain in motion. Want to know how I knew this was the solution to the puzzle? Well I'll tell you anyway...
......The bulb in my bedroom had finger marks made from tomato and herb sauce on it which can only have come from my Wednesday night pizza. I knew I must have handled it shortly after handling my pizza. For the Poirot's or Marple's amongst you, you may be wondering what I did with the old bedroom bulb....
.....it was inside the old pizza box waiting to go out with the rubbish :o)
June 14, 2008
Wiiiiiiiiii
Shock horror! I've actually won a competition!
Well, more of a prize draw really, but it doesn't matter how I did it, the important thing is..... I won a Nintendo Wii !!
It must be fate. We've just had a widescreen TV installed in the office, and I asked for the console to be delivered there as well. If I had it sent to my home address I'd probably have to go and get it from the depot, and I've no idea where that is. Also, at the moment, there seems to be a problem with my post at home. I haven't had anything delivered for nearly a week. It's a bit worrying. Some Lovefilm DVDs are lost in transit somewhere.
But I'm straying from the point. The important thing is I can now stand in front of a telly making a complete idiot of myself while I swing an imaginary golf club through the air, or pretend to box an invisible opponent.
..I can't wait for it to arrive.
p.s. It comes with a few games, but I've ordered an Agatha Christie game off e-bay already. Something to relax to at the end of the day.
June 13, 2008
Twenty20 Cricket Ticket Part II
All done. I've used my Cricket Ticket, visited the Rosebowl and watched Hampshire get beaten to a pulp, but of course, it didn't all go to plan (does it ever).
I knew I had to catch the 8A bus. It's the only one that runs from Southampton City Centre to the stadium. From what I could deduce from the online timetable, the best bus to catch would depart from Vincent's Walk at 16:32 to arrive just after 5pm. Ok so far except for two minor drawbacks...
...I've no idea where Vincent's Walk is, and unless the Rosebowl is quite distinctive, I don't know where to get off at the other end. Thankfully, the latter problem never arose as the stadium is a huge, imposing structure that couldn't be mistaken for anything else. Oh, and there was a great big road sign that read "Welcome to The Rosebowl: Home of Hampshire County Cricket Club".
But what about where to get on the bus. I'd tried to pinpoint Vincent's Walk on an online map, but it appeared to just be a small alleyway behind Primark. My work colleague didn't seem to recognise the name either, but suggested the main road behind the shops would be the likeliest place. I decided to do the sensible thing, and go and investigate about an hour before my bus was due. Assuming I found it, I could always go for a pint before catching the bus.
I walked to the shops, went behind Primark, and lo and behold there were a whole line of bus stops. As I moved along the row, I saw an 8A bus pull up at the furthest stop. This is where I made a fatal mistake... I decided to get on it. It completely escaped my attention that I was going to arrive at about 3.30pm and the gates don't open til 5.
Sadly, The area around the ground is not awash with facilities. It's on the outskirts of the urban area with no shops, pubs or cafes in sight, I didn't fancy hanging around outside so I decided to try my luck... (it's currently 3.40pm, and the gates don't open til 5pm)
"Sorry Sir, gates don't open for at least another hour"
"Really? That's not what your website told me" - That's a complete lie, but he had no way of proving me wrong without going online himself. The website clearly told me gates open at 5pm for a 7pm game start.
"Do you have a hospitality ticket Sir? We can let hospitality ticket holders in from 4"
"I don't think so, I'm in M Stand. Is that hospitality?" - Now I'm trying the ignorance approach... but I added...
"It's my first time to the Rosebowl, that's why I checked the gate time online, and it said 4pm" - Compounding my original white lie, but his body language was telling me he was on my side and sympathetic. I guessed he's had problems with the website being inaccurate before.
"I'm sorry Sir, but normal ticket holders are permitted in from 5pm onwards. I'm sorry the website wasn't clear" - Looks like I'm not going to win this one, but then a flash of inspiration came to me. Something I vaguely remember reading on the website, but didn't pay much attention to.
"But how will I be able to watch the schoolchildren's Kwik Cricket games? Don't they start at 4.30?"
"Oh, are you with the children?"
"My cousin's son is due to play, so Yes" - If he asked to name the kid's team, or provide some kind of proof I was sunk, but so far, so good!
"Oh, well that's ok then. Stand M is just over there Sir, enjoy the game."
What a blag! I was in an hour before the gates officially opened, the bar was just taking the towels off and there was decent music pumping out of the loudspeakers. A great night, and thankfully the rain held off. Only bad thing was the only scoreboard I could see was far too small for me to read clearly so I was relying on score updates from the stadium announcer. But next time, I know where to sit to be able to see the main board.
I knew I had to catch the 8A bus. It's the only one that runs from Southampton City Centre to the stadium. From what I could deduce from the online timetable, the best bus to catch would depart from Vincent's Walk at 16:32 to arrive just after 5pm. Ok so far except for two minor drawbacks...
...I've no idea where Vincent's Walk is, and unless the Rosebowl is quite distinctive, I don't know where to get off at the other end. Thankfully, the latter problem never arose as the stadium is a huge, imposing structure that couldn't be mistaken for anything else. Oh, and there was a great big road sign that read "Welcome to The Rosebowl: Home of Hampshire County Cricket Club".
But what about where to get on the bus. I'd tried to pinpoint Vincent's Walk on an online map, but it appeared to just be a small alleyway behind Primark. My work colleague didn't seem to recognise the name either, but suggested the main road behind the shops would be the likeliest place. I decided to do the sensible thing, and go and investigate about an hour before my bus was due. Assuming I found it, I could always go for a pint before catching the bus.
I walked to the shops, went behind Primark, and lo and behold there were a whole line of bus stops. As I moved along the row, I saw an 8A bus pull up at the furthest stop. This is where I made a fatal mistake... I decided to get on it. It completely escaped my attention that I was going to arrive at about 3.30pm and the gates don't open til 5.
Sadly, The area around the ground is not awash with facilities. It's on the outskirts of the urban area with no shops, pubs or cafes in sight, I didn't fancy hanging around outside so I decided to try my luck... (it's currently 3.40pm, and the gates don't open til 5pm)
"Sorry Sir, gates don't open for at least another hour"
"Really? That's not what your website told me" - That's a complete lie, but he had no way of proving me wrong without going online himself. The website clearly told me gates open at 5pm for a 7pm game start.
"Do you have a hospitality ticket Sir? We can let hospitality ticket holders in from 4"
"I don't think so, I'm in M Stand. Is that hospitality?" - Now I'm trying the ignorance approach... but I added...
"It's my first time to the Rosebowl, that's why I checked the gate time online, and it said 4pm" - Compounding my original white lie, but his body language was telling me he was on my side and sympathetic. I guessed he's had problems with the website being inaccurate before.
"I'm sorry Sir, but normal ticket holders are permitted in from 5pm onwards. I'm sorry the website wasn't clear" - Looks like I'm not going to win this one, but then a flash of inspiration came to me. Something I vaguely remember reading on the website, but didn't pay much attention to.
"But how will I be able to watch the schoolchildren's Kwik Cricket games? Don't they start at 4.30?"
"Oh, are you with the children?"
"My cousin's son is due to play, so Yes" - If he asked to name the kid's team, or provide some kind of proof I was sunk, but so far, so good!
"Oh, well that's ok then. Stand M is just over there Sir, enjoy the game."
What a blag! I was in an hour before the gates officially opened, the bar was just taking the towels off and there was decent music pumping out of the loudspeakers. A great night, and thankfully the rain held off. Only bad thing was the only scoreboard I could see was far too small for me to read clearly so I was relying on score updates from the stadium announcer. But next time, I know where to sit to be able to see the main board.
June 04, 2008
Spring Break Part V - My time at home
Being at home was very subdued this time around. I spent a lot of my time in bed watching DVDs or catching up on sleep.
I did make the effort to do one or two things though. I spent a day in the Trafford Centre, touring the bars and watching the new Indiana Jones movie. (Quick review. Very spectatular, but they took the story one step too far. Still a good way to pass a couple of hours though).
I visited the new Chill Factor. It's an indoor winter sports hall which uses real snow. I was highly impressed. There were a few eataries/bars/retail outlets within the complex, and I can see other chains wanting to move there too.
I went to a musical play at the Lowry - Eurobeat. A camp send up of Eurovision with real voting and audience participation. Hilarious fun, highly recommended. Every member of the audience is allocated a country to support before the performance. If you get a chance to see the show, whatever you do...don't pick Iceland!
Best of all, on the Sunday I met up with Karl. I haven't seen him since I was at school, 16 years ago (I actually thought it was 18 years til he corrected me. Thought I was supposed to be the one with the Maths degree!). We had a mini tour of Central Manchester and spent the 4 or 5 hours we were together sharing memories from our school days. I was amazed how many of them we both remembered. I was really surprised at how many of them we had done together as well. When I've looked back in the past it's never really been with fondness, but reminiscing through someone eles eyes made me realise it wasn't all bad. It's taken me 16 years to get back in touch with a great school friend, but it certainly won't be the last time we meet up.
...oh, and I turned 34 whilst I was away. Bah humbug!
Spring Break Part IV - Sarah-Jayne
Travelling over to the IOM to meet Caoimhe also meant I got to spend lots of time with my girlfriend. I can use that word officially now, as I finally got round to asking her out in person. It was fantastic. Leaving her on the Wednesday was so painful, I love her more and more each day.
I could relate a funny story to you from when we were together that involves terrible abdominal pains - but she would kill me (no really, she would make my life a living hell). On a seperate note though, you should ask her how many 'R's there are in the word 'Bath' :o)
She is becoming a wonderful mother. She always seems to doubt herself and her abilities, but from what I've seen, she should be very proud of herself.
The last night we had together was lovely. Just curled up on the sofa in each others arms, with a Chinese take-away and the telly. I didn't want it to end, and I don't think she did either.
...I'm a lucky guy
p.s. Edited to add the Bath story. On having a conversation, the question was raised 'What's the difference between Bath and Barrrthroom then?'. Her answer? "One you visit - the other you tinkle in" :o)
I could relate a funny story to you from when we were together that involves terrible abdominal pains - but she would kill me (no really, she would make my life a living hell). On a seperate note though, you should ask her how many 'R's there are in the word 'Bath' :o)
She is becoming a wonderful mother. She always seems to doubt herself and her abilities, but from what I've seen, she should be very proud of herself.
The last night we had together was lovely. Just curled up on the sofa in each others arms, with a Chinese take-away and the telly. I didn't want it to end, and I don't think she did either.
...I'm a lucky guy
p.s. Edited to add the Bath story. On having a conversation, the question was raised 'What's the difference between Bath and Barrrthroom then?'. Her answer? "One you visit - the other you tinkle in" :o)
Spring Break Part III - Caoimhe
The main reason for my trip to IOM was to meet baby Caoimhe. She is gorgeous. Already she has a personality of her own and gives the greatest cuddles. As baby's go, she is also very quiet. Even when she is upset her volume level seems to be turned right down, and she can be placated really quickly.
We took her for a little adventure on the Tuesday. Sadly the weather was atrotious, but it was still wonderful being out and about as a family. I definately need to wear 'L' PLates when I'm pushing the three wheeled buggy, but I'm getting the hang of it.
...I miss her already, and can't wait til she comes to visit me in July. I love her to pieces
Spring Break Part II - Meeting Friends
The main reason for the trip to the Isle of Man was to meet Caoimhe, and spend time with Sarah, but I'd had this trip booked a little while before we got together and I had already arranged to meet up with friends.
On the Sunday, I went down to Castletown to meet up with Jackie and Zoltan and to meet Jackie's new beau. I know she doesn't need my seal of approval when it comes to her love life, but it did feel a bit like a daughter bringing her new fella home to meet her Dad! There was nothing to worry about. Ranald was a great guy, and we hit it off straight away. It was a lovely day. Drink, pool, drink, jukebox, drink, drink, strange photos, drink, Zolly going missing in The Sidings, drink and then last bus home.
On the Sunday, I went down to Castletown to meet up with Jackie and Zoltan and to meet Jackie's new beau. I know she doesn't need my seal of approval when it comes to her love life, but it did feel a bit like a daughter bringing her new fella home to meet her Dad! There was nothing to worry about. Ranald was a great guy, and we hit it off straight away. It was a lovely day. Drink, pool, drink, jukebox, drink, drink, strange photos, drink, Zolly going missing in The Sidings, drink and then last bus home.
On the bank holiday Monday, it was a chance to meet up with Rob, Rob and Andrew. I walked down from Willaston in blazing sunshine, and chose to pass through Summerhill Glen. I think in the 11 years I lived there, I never went into the Glen. I knew it was there, but just never took the opportunity to travel through it. It was beautiful. Hard to believe it's surrounded by major roads and heavy traffic - so tranquil.
The Robs and Andrew are coming to see me in Southampton to August to go horse racing. The conversation soon turned to that and as usual, arguments over who's round it was next. Nothing ever changes. It was great to see them though.
Spring Break Part I - The Travel
Hello all, sorry for the lack of posts over the past week or so, but as you can tell from the title of the new entry, I've had my first official break from work. About 10 days in total, half in the Isle of Man, half in Manchester with my parents. Rather than bore you all with one long post, I'll try to break it down into several smaller, and easily digestable, chunks.
Ok, Spring Break Part 1, The Travelling.
The first part of my journey was a pair of train trips. Southampton to Birmingham, then Birmingham to Manchester. Both trips passed fairly uneventfully, although it is a perfect way to study the psyche of the British public. Almost all long-haul train trips now come with a reserved seat, mine included. There are still people though who don't bother to use them, and sit wherever they please. The funniest thing about this is it always ends up with the person who has the seat reserved, apologising to the rogue occupant! The conversation usually goes something like:
"Excuse me. I'm really sorry but I think there's a chance you might be sitting in my seat"
"Really? I didn't see any sign"
"Oh, Sorry, there's a little screen above the seat. This is Coach C isn't it? I think you're in seat 28. Sorry"
"Oh I've moved once already"
"Oh dear, I'm sorry. erm, I'll see if I can find another seat".
Hilarious, happens over and over again :o)
A little note here to add that Birmingham New Street station is a disgrace, and the people there were arrogant, rude and obnoxious. I apologise to any genuinely nice Brummies who might read this, but the few occasions I've spent time at that station have all been times I regret.
The Ferry, ah what an adventure. Actually, It wasn't the ferry journey itself - that passed fairly routinely - it was the car journey to get to Heysham. The plan was for Dad to drive me after he finished work, at about midday. Get to Heysham in plenty of time to check in as a foot passenger for the 2:15pm sailing. But something wasn't right....
....it was Bank Holiday Weekend. The sun was out, and the route from Manchester to Heysham uses the M6 which meets up with traffic going to the Lake District AND daytippers off to Blackpool. What should have been a leisurely one hour journey was stretching towards two hours.
We arrived at the port with a screech of brakes and the faint aroma of burning tyre rubber. There had been a few dubious over-taking manouveres and the odd amber light, but it was 2.05pm and the boat was due to sail in ten minutes. I ran to check-in, put on my best puppy dog face and asked if it was too late. After a quick phone call confirming the gang-plank was still down she told me it was ok, but I'd have to run.
...Now, I assume you know what size I am, and what my fitness level is like. I did run, all the way to the gangplank, carrying an extremely heavy hold-all. I arrived at the entrance to the boat to be greeted by a smiling Steam-Packet worker.
"No need to hurry mate, we ain't sailing til half-past. Got some late cars to get on"
I was nearly physically sick with pain, and there was still 4 flights of stairs ahead of me. I got on, found a seat in the bar, drank half a pint of diet coke in less than 3 seconds and collapsed into a dripping, sweating mass.
The train home was a nice, journey. I was allocated a table, and opposite me was an old couple. I was doing his Sudoku in my head faster than he was whilst finishing off my Agatha Christie. I'm not sure if reading The 4.50 From Paddington about a murder on board a train gives off the wrong signals, but it was still a pleasant way to pass the time. I offered them a crisp when I opened my bag, which they politely refused.
....Did they offer me one of their Glacier Fruit sweets though? Did they bugger!
Ok, Spring Break Part 1, The Travelling.
The first part of my journey was a pair of train trips. Southampton to Birmingham, then Birmingham to Manchester. Both trips passed fairly uneventfully, although it is a perfect way to study the psyche of the British public. Almost all long-haul train trips now come with a reserved seat, mine included. There are still people though who don't bother to use them, and sit wherever they please. The funniest thing about this is it always ends up with the person who has the seat reserved, apologising to the rogue occupant! The conversation usually goes something like:
"Excuse me. I'm really sorry but I think there's a chance you might be sitting in my seat"
"Really? I didn't see any sign"
"Oh, Sorry, there's a little screen above the seat. This is Coach C isn't it? I think you're in seat 28. Sorry"
"Oh I've moved once already"
"Oh dear, I'm sorry. erm, I'll see if I can find another seat".
Hilarious, happens over and over again :o)
A little note here to add that Birmingham New Street station is a disgrace, and the people there were arrogant, rude and obnoxious. I apologise to any genuinely nice Brummies who might read this, but the few occasions I've spent time at that station have all been times I regret.
The Ferry, ah what an adventure. Actually, It wasn't the ferry journey itself - that passed fairly routinely - it was the car journey to get to Heysham. The plan was for Dad to drive me after he finished work, at about midday. Get to Heysham in plenty of time to check in as a foot passenger for the 2:15pm sailing. But something wasn't right....
....it was Bank Holiday Weekend. The sun was out, and the route from Manchester to Heysham uses the M6 which meets up with traffic going to the Lake District AND daytippers off to Blackpool. What should have been a leisurely one hour journey was stretching towards two hours.
We arrived at the port with a screech of brakes and the faint aroma of burning tyre rubber. There had been a few dubious over-taking manouveres and the odd amber light, but it was 2.05pm and the boat was due to sail in ten minutes. I ran to check-in, put on my best puppy dog face and asked if it was too late. After a quick phone call confirming the gang-plank was still down she told me it was ok, but I'd have to run.
...Now, I assume you know what size I am, and what my fitness level is like. I did run, all the way to the gangplank, carrying an extremely heavy hold-all. I arrived at the entrance to the boat to be greeted by a smiling Steam-Packet worker.
"No need to hurry mate, we ain't sailing til half-past. Got some late cars to get on"
I was nearly physically sick with pain, and there was still 4 flights of stairs ahead of me. I got on, found a seat in the bar, drank half a pint of diet coke in less than 3 seconds and collapsed into a dripping, sweating mass.
The train home was a nice, journey. I was allocated a table, and opposite me was an old couple. I was doing his Sudoku in my head faster than he was whilst finishing off my Agatha Christie. I'm not sure if reading The 4.50 From Paddington about a murder on board a train gives off the wrong signals, but it was still a pleasant way to pass the time. I offered them a crisp when I opened my bag, which they politely refused.
....Did they offer me one of their Glacier Fruit sweets though? Did they bugger!
May 17, 2008
Twenty20 Cricket Ticket
I've finally got hold of a ticket for a Twenty20 game at the Rosebowl down here in Hamsphire. The Hawks vs Middlesex Crusaders, June 11th. I love the new format of the game. I know the older generation of cricket fans think it is killing the sport, but I honestly believe it's breathing new life into it. More importantly it's getting people through the turnstiles for all games at all levels, and that can't be a bad thing.
Anyway, the point of the blog entry is to transcribe the phone conversation I had to endure to get this ticket. You would expect a stadium like the Rosebowl to have a professional booking service, either online or telephone based wouldn't you? After all, they are hosting R.E.M and Bon Jovi concerts this summer so they must be used to it by now.
They do have an online booking service, but for days, everytime I tried to book a seat, I got a garbled error message. After a week I decided to call their ticket office. Stupidly I called at the weekend, and got a recorded message "Sorry, the ticket office is currently closed. Our office hours are...." so I called back Monday morning instead. For the purposes of this tale, I have decided to call the operator Martha. I can't actually remember her real name, but she sounded like a 'Martha'
Martha: Good morning Hampshire Rosebowl Ticket office, how may I be of service
Me: Oh Good morning. I've been trying for some time to book a ticket for a Twenty20 game online, but I keep getting a strange error message. Is there any chance I can book a ticket through you?
Martha: I can fill out an application for you, but it will need to go to the bottom of the pile. Would you like me to proceed?
(Needless to say, this response stunned me into almost silence. I had no idea what she meant, or how big this 'pile' was...)
Me: Erm, Ok. Lets proceed.
Martha: Fine, I just need to take a few details
(At this point she took the usual name, phone number, address, inside leg measurement etc off me)
Martha: ..and which game were you looking at attending?
Me: Erm the game on June 11th, the Twenty20 game.
Martha: Ok, and how many tickets would you be requiring for this game?
Me: Just the one.
Martha: Oh, just one? Would you not like to bring someone? All seats are allocated so your friend's seat would be next to you?
(Now this is getting weird. Is she trying to psychoanalyse me now? is she trying to reach into the depths of my inner soul and find out why I'm travelling alone?)
Me: No, thant's fine it will just be me.
Martha: Ok, and where would you like to sit?
Me: I'm not familar with the Rosebowl, it'll be my first time there. Where would you recommend.
Martha: Would you like the North Stand?
Me: I'm not familar with the layout of the Rosebowl. Are those good seats?
Martha: It's inbetween the East and West stands
(I was going to make a comment here....but I'm still stunned she actually said that)
Me: When I was booking online I think I liked the look of Stand M, it's opposite the pavilion isn't it?
Martha: M stand. Yes that's part of the North Stand.
Me: Opposite the pavilion?
Martha: Next to East Stand
(I was close to giving up here, but I was desperate for the ticket)
Me: Ok, Stand M will be fine.
Martha: So that's one ticket only, North Stand for June 11th. £15 as it's an advance booking. Is that ok?
Me: That's fine.
Martha: So that's £16 to pay. How would you like to pay?
Me: Sorry, £16. I thought you said it was £15
Martha. All bookings are subject to a £1 charge for the booking process.
Me: Couldn't you just add the £1 to the ticket price instead? advertise that all tickets are £16 inc booking fees?
(There was a considerable pause here. I think I might have been the first person to question their booking fee)
Martha: ....All bookings are subject to a £1 charge for the booking process. So how would you like to pay?
(After giving her my debit card details etc the transaction was completed.
Martha: Thank you for your application. It is now at the bottom of the pile and will be processed within 7 days. You'll receive an e-mail confirmation that your application has been successful and then the ticket will follow shortly after in the post.
Me: Thank you very much.
Martha: Anything else I can help you with today Mr Gibson?
Me: Oh, just one little thing....
...Won't you need my e-mail address to send the confirmation to?
May 15, 2008
Caoimhe Gillian
Born 11.58am May 13th 2008
9lbs 1.5oz
...I've been smiling ever since.
(and before you ask, it's pronounced 'Keeva')
EDIT: Edited to add that Sarah-Jayne is heading home today from hospital. By the sound of it Caoimhe is already the size of a 3 month old, never mind 3 days! She could enter a milk drinking contest and win hands down. She can also do a perfect impression of Maggie from The Simpsons when she is asleep with her pacifier :o)
Just over a week til I get to meet her and hold her. I can't wait. Hopefully I'll be bringing her buggy over with me too, it's stuck in Preston at the moment.
9lbs 1.5oz
...I've been smiling ever since.
(and before you ask, it's pronounced 'Keeva')
EDIT: Edited to add that Sarah-Jayne is heading home today from hospital. By the sound of it Caoimhe is already the size of a 3 month old, never mind 3 days! She could enter a milk drinking contest and win hands down. She can also do a perfect impression of Maggie from The Simpsons when she is asleep with her pacifier :o)
Just over a week til I get to meet her and hold her. I can't wait. Hopefully I'll be bringing her buggy over with me too, it's stuck in Preston at the moment.
May 07, 2008
Damaged Bread Mix
Sorry to my loyal reader(s) for a quiet blog recently. Sadly, life down here hasn't been thrilling enough to warrent a new entry.
For the past week, it's all been about SJ, and waiting for baby to make it's debut appearance. My previous page about her going into labour turned out to be a false alarm. She's due to be induced sometime before the weekend though, so not long to wait now.
Other than Sarah, life has just been full work shifts, sofa surfing and making another casserole. I didn't trip the fuse this time, so there was no need to wander round the flat carrying the slow cooker under my arm.
I did do a naughty thing though at the start of the week. I got a delivery from Tesco, and as I was unpacking, I punctured a packet of granary bread mix with the corner of a tin of mandarin orange segments. Normally I wouldn't have done anything about it. The bread mix was still useable, and I hadn't spilt any of the powder....
...but they had forgotton my margarine. (this is connected, trust me). I called up the helpline to get a refund for the spread and was speaking to a nice Scottish girl. After she had called up my order and deducted the Utterly Butterly the conversation went on:
"Ok Mr Gibson, I have deducted the price of the margarine from your order. Is there anything else I can help with?"
Now the correct response would have been:
"No that's fine, thanks for your help". What I actually said to her was:
"Well there is something. When the driver was taking items off his delivery trolley, he was a little heavy handed, and two of my bread mixes got damaged. I think they are still useable, but they appear to have been punctured on a tin can of some kind." How naughty was I being! Not only do I blame someone else for the damage, I double the amount of bread mix that was affected!
"Oh I am sorry Mr Gibson. Was it just two of your bread mixes? I see you ordered 5?"
"Well I only noticed two." - See what I did there? She had given me an opening to make out there was even more damage, but I gave a subtle, open answer, and left it up to her as to how she interpreted it.
"Oh well I'll refund the cost of three of them, just to be sure. Please accept my apologies for that. Anything else?"
"No, that's fine, thank you very much for the refund. Bye for now"
So there you go. I accidently damaged a food item, blamed someone else and got a triple refund! I would say I feel a bit guilty, but I've seen the declared profit margins Tesco makes each year.
...a few refunded bread mixes isn't going to break them.
P.S. as a disclaimer I should point out that the delivery driver was very friendly, and the customer service I received was first rate. Thank you Tesco
For the past week, it's all been about SJ, and waiting for baby to make it's debut appearance. My previous page about her going into labour turned out to be a false alarm. She's due to be induced sometime before the weekend though, so not long to wait now.
Other than Sarah, life has just been full work shifts, sofa surfing and making another casserole. I didn't trip the fuse this time, so there was no need to wander round the flat carrying the slow cooker under my arm.
I did do a naughty thing though at the start of the week. I got a delivery from Tesco, and as I was unpacking, I punctured a packet of granary bread mix with the corner of a tin of mandarin orange segments. Normally I wouldn't have done anything about it. The bread mix was still useable, and I hadn't spilt any of the powder....
...but they had forgotton my margarine. (this is connected, trust me). I called up the helpline to get a refund for the spread and was speaking to a nice Scottish girl. After she had called up my order and deducted the Utterly Butterly the conversation went on:
"Ok Mr Gibson, I have deducted the price of the margarine from your order. Is there anything else I can help with?"
Now the correct response would have been:
"No that's fine, thanks for your help". What I actually said to her was:
"Well there is something. When the driver was taking items off his delivery trolley, he was a little heavy handed, and two of my bread mixes got damaged. I think they are still useable, but they appear to have been punctured on a tin can of some kind." How naughty was I being! Not only do I blame someone else for the damage, I double the amount of bread mix that was affected!
"Oh I am sorry Mr Gibson. Was it just two of your bread mixes? I see you ordered 5?"
"Well I only noticed two." - See what I did there? She had given me an opening to make out there was even more damage, but I gave a subtle, open answer, and left it up to her as to how she interpreted it.
"Oh well I'll refund the cost of three of them, just to be sure. Please accept my apologies for that. Anything else?"
"No, that's fine, thank you very much for the refund. Bye for now"
So there you go. I accidently damaged a food item, blamed someone else and got a triple refund! I would say I feel a bit guilty, but I've seen the declared profit margins Tesco makes each year.
...a few refunded bread mixes isn't going to break them.
P.S. as a disclaimer I should point out that the delivery driver was very friendly, and the customer service I received was first rate. Thank you Tesco
May 02, 2008
My Mum and The Towering Inferno
I've relayed the story I tell people about my Dad, well now it's the turn of my Mum. Another little tale I like to pass on about her past. Makes me smile to picture it.
DISCLAIMER: The jist of this story is completely true. As I wasn't there at the time however, some of the details have been 'added' to flesh out the story - Makes it a better anecdote :o)
Picture the scene. It's 1975. Fashion is short skirts, flaired trousers and terrible haircuts. Elvis is into his 'Las Vegas' phase and Abba are all over the charts. At the cinema, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest is picking up multiple oscars and disaster movies are proving to be great money spinners for the studios.
It's one such disaster movie that plays an important part in this little tale. The Towering Inferno. Now a fixture of every bank holiday weekend, it tells the tale of a newly opened tower block catching fire, trapping hundreds of party goers inside. With a cast-list full of Hollywood's finest, it was a guarenteed success at the box-office.
What has this got to do with my Mother? Well she saw the film over and over again. Not because she was a huge fan of Steve McQueen or Paul Newman, just because at the time she was working as a cinema usherette. Now a dying breed, an usherette's main duty was to carry a tray of ices and frozen drinks on a stick to sell during the interval. Even to this day she knows the exact moment during the film she had to leave her post to go and collect her tray. She reminds me everytime the film in shown on TV!
I need to digress here if I may. Remember this is the mid-70's. Cinemas at this time were huge, imposing buildings. There would only be one screen, but the seating would be on several levels. Stalls at the lower level, dress circle above, possibly even a balcony level above that. Going to see a film was akin to making a theatre trip. It wasn't til the 80's when they all got converted to either multi-screen or bingo halls, and the magic of a proper cinema visit was lost forever. As well as selling the ices, an usherette would also be on stand-by in one particular area. Checking tickets, keeping rowdy teenagers quiet during the love scenes, breaking up heavy petting on the back row etc. They would also have the responibilty of guiding customers out in case of an emergency evacuation. Now that I've painted the picture, I'll get back to the story.
As part of my Mum's training, she was given a few code words to learn. The idea being that if something happened, a message could be relayed to all the usherettes by calling out a single unrelated word. If you were a customer watching the film, would you think anything of it if someone called out the word 'rabbit' once? Of course not, but to the usherettes that could translate as "There is an underage youth in section 4, check tickets and if you find him, escort him off the premises" (ok maybe not that complicated, but you get the general idea).
So, back to the film. My Mum is guarding the upper circle of seats. Everyone has their lollies, the lights have dimmed, and the second half is under way. Richard Chamberlain has just fallen to his death, and no one is holding out much hope for Fred Astaire by now either. Just at this moment someone calls out....
"Jester!"
"Hmm", thinks my Mum. "I'm sure that means something, but I can't for the life of me remember what it is. Nevermind. If it's important I'm sure they'll shout it again."
Silence. No more shouting, no repeat of "Jester". Can't of been that important then. Carry on enjoying the rest of the film, her section of customers happily settled in for the big water-filled finale.
...."but what did 'Jester' actually mean?" I hear you ask. You didn't ask? Well I'll tell you anyway!
"Jester" was the code word for "Fire - Evacuate your section immediately and quickly." Quite appropriate considering the nature of the movie on show.
Naturally the codeword couldn't actually be "Fire". Could you imagine trying to get several hundred people to leave a cinema peacefully and calmly in the dark if someone is shouting out 'Fire'? The panic could quite easily cause more harm than the fire itself.
Within minutes the entire cinema was empty, except for one small section of the upper circle where my Mum was watching over a cluster of customers. The whole of the stalls below her now completely deserted. Outside the management is explaining to everyone what is going on, and calming down anyone with hysterics. Inside, 30 or 40 people are still watching a 900ft skyscraper burn to the ground.
...Thankfully it was only a drill, but I'm sure she was sent back in usherette training school after that one!
May 01, 2008
My Dad and the Serial Killer
My parents being over last week reminded me of a story I often tell about my Dad, from when he was younger. Always helps the conversation if it appears to be flagging.
When I was about to start University I asked my Dad one of those searching, probing questions that sons often ask their fathers:
"So Dad, what did you do for fun when you were my age?"
Well, the basic answer was along the lines of: "We'd get the bus to Belle Vue, watch the speedway, go to the circus there, and then on to the dance halls. Dance the night away before making sure we got the last bus home." - I should point out at this point that I think the 'circus' was more like a fairground, and the last bus home was essential. People came from all over the North West, but there was no such thing as mini-cabs in the mid-60's. My Dad was born in '42 so I assume this is the era we are talking about.
All pretty exciting stuff I'm sure you'll agree. Well the follow up question was obvious:
"So Dad, what was your chat-up technique like then?"
"Dead simple", came the reply. "Just ask them what bus they're on. If they weren't on your route, then you just moved on to the next girl. No point chatting up a girl if you can't see her home is there?"
A few years ago, one of the evilest women of the 20th Century, in fact of all time, died. Myra Hindley. (Bear with me here, this is relevant). At the time, think it was 2002, there were several documentaries about the life, crimes and death of her on television. One such documentary had the following information:
"Myra, born in 1942, would often spend her lesuire time in the 60's hanging around the circus and dance halls of Belle Vue in Greater Manchester"
Well! Wasn't that a turn up! Here was a woman, born just 4 months after my father, who spent her free time in exactly the same way as he did. My own parent could well have been drinking, dancing and even smooching with the queen of crime. Naturally I confronted him with the facts.
After a short pause of contemplation he said, in a calm and calculated voice:
"Doubt it. She was on the 19 to Cheadle, and I had to catch the 42 to Stockport."
..How different all our lives could of been if it hadn't been for the lack of public transport after hours.
When I was about to start University I asked my Dad one of those searching, probing questions that sons often ask their fathers:
"So Dad, what did you do for fun when you were my age?"
Well, the basic answer was along the lines of: "We'd get the bus to Belle Vue, watch the speedway, go to the circus there, and then on to the dance halls. Dance the night away before making sure we got the last bus home." - I should point out at this point that I think the 'circus' was more like a fairground, and the last bus home was essential. People came from all over the North West, but there was no such thing as mini-cabs in the mid-60's. My Dad was born in '42 so I assume this is the era we are talking about.
All pretty exciting stuff I'm sure you'll agree. Well the follow up question was obvious:
"So Dad, what was your chat-up technique like then?"
"Dead simple", came the reply. "Just ask them what bus they're on. If they weren't on your route, then you just moved on to the next girl. No point chatting up a girl if you can't see her home is there?"
A few years ago, one of the evilest women of the 20th Century, in fact of all time, died. Myra Hindley. (Bear with me here, this is relevant). At the time, think it was 2002, there were several documentaries about the life, crimes and death of her on television. One such documentary had the following information:
"Myra, born in 1942, would often spend her lesuire time in the 60's hanging around the circus and dance halls of Belle Vue in Greater Manchester"
Well! Wasn't that a turn up! Here was a woman, born just 4 months after my father, who spent her free time in exactly the same way as he did. My own parent could well have been drinking, dancing and even smooching with the queen of crime. Naturally I confronted him with the facts.
After a short pause of contemplation he said, in a calm and calculated voice:
"Doubt it. She was on the 19 to Cheadle, and I had to catch the 42 to Stockport."
..How different all our lives could of been if it hadn't been for the lack of public transport after hours.
April 29, 2008
Maltesers
Sorry to disappoint the chocoholics amongst you, but I'm referring to the people from the island of Malta.
I mentioned in passing in the last entry that the company I work for appears to be going places. That's certainly true, and might be all the way to the Mediterranean. Setting up the office here in Southampton and obtaining a UK gaming licence was done for commuting convenience. The local airport has direct flights to Germany, and office property here is slightly cheaper than say Manchester or Birmingham.
...but office property is even cheaper in Malta, and their taxes for gaming companies are far, far more beneficial.
Having an office there is definately what the big bosses want, but the decision hasn't been made yet whether the Southampton operation moves en masse, or if we will work across two sites. One thing is for certain if the new office opens, I will be going over there to train the new staff. Should take about 3 weeks, but if the weather's nice I'll see if I can stretch it out to the full month :)
This couldn't have come at a worse time. Right now all that is on my mind is Sarah, and the upcoming arrival of the baby. (oh, quick update. She is in some kind of slow labour, but if nothing has happened by May 8th, she will be induced). Thankfully I haven't been given a decision to make yet, but if I am, I really don't know what to do.
Option 1: I'm told that the Southampton office is shifting to Malta, new staff will be found and I train them and manage them. That would mean me relocating on a permenant basis. As it stands I'm already having a long distance relationship with Sarah, so things wouldn't change much. I could still visit her once a month. The hardest part there would be for our long term future.
Option 2: I'm told there will be two offices, I need to train the new Maltese staff, and then manage them, along with the Southampton staff too. Probably the best solution for me. Nothing changes in terms of my location, but my responsibility shoots up (and hopefully my wages). I will probably have to make regular trips to Malta at the company's expense. As far as my relationship with Sarah goes, nothing would change at all, except I might have more money :)
Option 3: Malta doesn't happen and we just stay as we are. Another promising option, but with a sense that the company doesn't want to grow. On a personal level, nothing is effected, but from a works point of view it would appear we are standing still, instead of speeding forward.
It's all up in the air at the moment, so there is no need for me to panic, or make plans. I'm just waiting for futher updates from the powers that be. In some ways I do hope the Malta plans do come together...
...if only so I can get a free holiday in the sun.
April 27, 2008
6 months
It almost slipped me by unnoticed. I've been in Southampton now for 6 months.
Looking back, not much has changed since I first arrived here. I still work long hours, I still have a broken sleep pattern, I still have 'bad' days and I still run out of money each month.
...but some things have changed. The hours maybe long, but the work is easier now I have an assistant. The sleep pattern maybe be broken, but at least I do actually sleep. There are 'bad' days but they no longer out number the good ones, and I may run out of money, but at least it's my money, not money I owe someone else.
I make the regular trips back to IOM I promised myself, I drink less (not sure if that's something I've done consciously, I think it's more to do with the fact the pub has closed down next to work), and now I have Sarah in my life, something I never thought would happen, even in my wildest dreams.
The walk to work is still the same, but now it's accompanied by Pink Floyd or The Hollies.
I have Twenty20 cricket to look forward to, and a holiday in Norfolk. It feels like the company is going places too, and thankfully I was in at the start.
...Life isn't perfect, but it's certainly getting better.
p.s. Don't forget readers, please leave a comment on the previous post. Even if it's just to say 'Hi'
Looking back, not much has changed since I first arrived here. I still work long hours, I still have a broken sleep pattern, I still have 'bad' days and I still run out of money each month.
...but some things have changed. The hours maybe long, but the work is easier now I have an assistant. The sleep pattern maybe be broken, but at least I do actually sleep. There are 'bad' days but they no longer out number the good ones, and I may run out of money, but at least it's my money, not money I owe someone else.
I make the regular trips back to IOM I promised myself, I drink less (not sure if that's something I've done consciously, I think it's more to do with the fact the pub has closed down next to work), and now I have Sarah in my life, something I never thought would happen, even in my wildest dreams.
The walk to work is still the same, but now it's accompanied by Pink Floyd or The Hollies.
I have Twenty20 cricket to look forward to, and a holiday in Norfolk. It feels like the company is going places too, and thankfully I was in at the start.
...Life isn't perfect, but it's certainly getting better.
p.s. Don't forget readers, please leave a comment on the previous post. Even if it's just to say 'Hi'
April 26, 2008
Random thoughts...
...of a 30-Something year old idiot.
This blog has evolved. When it first started, it was just me venting off my frustration at being alone on the South coast. As far as I knew, only one person read it, but it didn't matter, it was a great way to release ideas, thoughts, emotions and test my literary talents.
It's been over 5 months now since the first post, and the blog has definately taken a change of course. I'm no longer writing to amuse myself, by osmosis I suddenly have an audience. Family, friends, old flames, old drinking partners, pub buddies, random locals. In some ways it's quite exciting.
I have a request, to EVERYONE reading this, especially to those who have read the blog all the way through. PLEASE leave a comment on this post. Tell me honestly what you think of it so far. Be critical, or complimentary whatever is appropriate. I don't care who you are, how you know me (or even if you don't) just leave a comment on this particular post.
I have no intention of stopping this blog, in some ways it's helped me get through the loneliness of my existance, but I'd love some major feedback on what works, and what doesn't.
Thank you all in advance.
This blog has evolved. When it first started, it was just me venting off my frustration at being alone on the South coast. As far as I knew, only one person read it, but it didn't matter, it was a great way to release ideas, thoughts, emotions and test my literary talents.
It's been over 5 months now since the first post, and the blog has definately taken a change of course. I'm no longer writing to amuse myself, by osmosis I suddenly have an audience. Family, friends, old flames, old drinking partners, pub buddies, random locals. In some ways it's quite exciting.
I have a request, to EVERYONE reading this, especially to those who have read the blog all the way through. PLEASE leave a comment on this post. Tell me honestly what you think of it so far. Be critical, or complimentary whatever is appropriate. I don't care who you are, how you know me (or even if you don't) just leave a comment on this particular post.
I have no intention of stopping this blog, in some ways it's helped me get through the loneliness of my existance, but I'd love some major feedback on what works, and what doesn't.
Thank you all in advance.
April 25, 2008
Sarah-Jayne Part II
It must be love :o)
At 13:38 today I got a text of Sarah: I'm in labour, or should say early stages of labour.
Now, given the situation, the natural reaction should really be for me to offer her my love, wish her well and just wait til I hear more news. No. I've spent the rest of the afternoon with goosebumps, grinning like the Cheshire Cat, and trying desperately to find someone online who can provide me with updates. Work has taken a back-seat today. Even forgot to eat lunch (now that is a first!)
Thankfully Sarah has messaged me again. She's doing well, and it is very early stages. It's definately started though. I cannot believe how irritating it is being on a seperate piece of land to her. I actually feel helpless. I'm not even sure I could do anything if I was there, but the fact that I can't even offer, is really frustrating me.
...can't wait to meet the new arrival.
x x
At 13:38 today I got a text of Sarah: I'm in labour, or should say early stages of labour.
Now, given the situation, the natural reaction should really be for me to offer her my love, wish her well and just wait til I hear more news. No. I've spent the rest of the afternoon with goosebumps, grinning like the Cheshire Cat, and trying desperately to find someone online who can provide me with updates. Work has taken a back-seat today. Even forgot to eat lunch (now that is a first!)
Thankfully Sarah has messaged me again. She's doing well, and it is very early stages. It's definately started though. I cannot believe how irritating it is being on a seperate piece of land to her. I actually feel helpless. I'm not even sure I could do anything if I was there, but the fact that I can't even offer, is really frustrating me.
...can't wait to meet the new arrival.
x x
IOW vs IOM
I've recently returned from a day trip to the Isle of Wight. Thought I'd write a little entry comparing this island to the Isle of Man, my home for 11 years. Please bear in mind that my views of IOW are only based on a short visit, whereas my perspective of IOM is based on 11 years of residency. I do plan on going back to IOW again to see if my initial impression was accurate or not.
Firstly, the crossing. IOW wins here hands down. The ferry was a little haven of luxury, nice food, good bar service, comfy seats and a mulitude of panoramic windows to look out of. And there is actually things to view too. The trip to IOW takes you down an estuary, so there is land on both sides of you for the entire journey. There is also a lot of 'traffic' to keep you interested...and the cost? think it was £18 for three people and a car, each way. Oh and the boats sail every hour.
Compare that to IOM. Lucky if there is two ferries a day. Cost of taking a car requires a remortgage of your house, and the facilities on board lead a lot to be desired.
But what about when you get there. I'm talking now as a foot passenger, who has just stepped off the boat. Well, here it's an easy victory for IOM. Plenty of pubs, cafes, the horse tram and bus depot all within sight of the terminal doors. Taxis waiting for you if you want to go further afield. The main shopping area is less than 5 minutes away, as is the gorgeous Gaiety Theatre.
Disembarking in East Cowes in IOW was like stepping into a wild west ghost town. One pub - The White Hart Inn - (which looked as though it would fall down in a light breeze), one post office that also doubled as a supermarket, bank and is probably owned by 'local people' and about 5 other shops that all looked closed or uninviting. The only place for a foot passenger to get to would be West Cowes, which involved waiting 20 mins for a chain-ferry. West Cowes was slightly more appealing, with several eating and drinking establishments, but I never once saw a taxi rank, so travelling further away would require detailed knowledge of the buses.
After getting out of Cowes, I did see Ryde, one of the 'larger' towns on IOW. This had potential. A traditional sea-front with ice-cream vendors, amusement arcades and a beach. Shops that seemed a good mix of practical as well as 'touristy' and a few well placed watering holes. Coupled with the nice weather I got, this had given IOW a few extra points in the overall ratings.
But compared to IOM? no contest. The equivalent of Ryde on IOM, would probably be Peel, or Laxey. Laxey has the beautiful Glens on it's doorstep, Peel, the scenic backdrop of the castle and the traditional harbour. IOM wins again.
If there was a dream compromise, it would be taking the ferry trip to IOW (the cost, the travel time and the view), but instead of arriving in Cowes, I arrive in Douglas instead.
My second trip to IOW will be during the summer, and it will be as a foot passenger. I'll let you know if anything has changed to alter my opinion.
Firstly, the crossing. IOW wins here hands down. The ferry was a little haven of luxury, nice food, good bar service, comfy seats and a mulitude of panoramic windows to look out of. And there is actually things to view too. The trip to IOW takes you down an estuary, so there is land on both sides of you for the entire journey. There is also a lot of 'traffic' to keep you interested...and the cost? think it was £18 for three people and a car, each way. Oh and the boats sail every hour.
Compare that to IOM. Lucky if there is two ferries a day. Cost of taking a car requires a remortgage of your house, and the facilities on board lead a lot to be desired.
But what about when you get there. I'm talking now as a foot passenger, who has just stepped off the boat. Well, here it's an easy victory for IOM. Plenty of pubs, cafes, the horse tram and bus depot all within sight of the terminal doors. Taxis waiting for you if you want to go further afield. The main shopping area is less than 5 minutes away, as is the gorgeous Gaiety Theatre.
Disembarking in East Cowes in IOW was like stepping into a wild west ghost town. One pub - The White Hart Inn - (which looked as though it would fall down in a light breeze), one post office that also doubled as a supermarket, bank and is probably owned by 'local people' and about 5 other shops that all looked closed or uninviting. The only place for a foot passenger to get to would be West Cowes, which involved waiting 20 mins for a chain-ferry. West Cowes was slightly more appealing, with several eating and drinking establishments, but I never once saw a taxi rank, so travelling further away would require detailed knowledge of the buses.
After getting out of Cowes, I did see Ryde, one of the 'larger' towns on IOW. This had potential. A traditional sea-front with ice-cream vendors, amusement arcades and a beach. Shops that seemed a good mix of practical as well as 'touristy' and a few well placed watering holes. Coupled with the nice weather I got, this had given IOW a few extra points in the overall ratings.
But compared to IOM? no contest. The equivalent of Ryde on IOM, would probably be Peel, or Laxey. Laxey has the beautiful Glens on it's doorstep, Peel, the scenic backdrop of the castle and the traditional harbour. IOM wins again.
If there was a dream compromise, it would be taking the ferry trip to IOW (the cost, the travel time and the view), but instead of arriving in Cowes, I arrive in Douglas instead.
My second trip to IOW will be during the summer, and it will be as a foot passenger. I'll let you know if anything has changed to alter my opinion.
April 17, 2008
Sarah-Jayne
It'd be wrong of me not to write an entry about Sarah. She's becoming more and more a part of my life, and at the same time she's getting closer and closer to becoming a Mum.
We've had long chats about the situation, about the baby's father, about us living apart. After all the linen has been washed at 40 degrees with seperate softener and hung out to dry, we are still together.
I have no fears about becoming a 'Dad' to someone else's child. I remember when I was a bingo caller my Mum once said she could see me taking on a ready-made family :o) Of course I do have some concerns, it's a very tricky situation, but we are open with each other about everything. Thankfully, we are both taking it slow and steady, and even in these early stages, we are both enjoying it - Well I certainly am, and she definately seems to be!
My next visit to IOM will be after baby is born, and I've already made arrangements to spend a little time with them both. We are also going away as a family unit at the end of the summer for a UK break. One of those situations that will either break us or bond us.
The important thing is, I have those butterflies. My face lights up when my phone vibrates with a text. I giggle when I see her name in my e-mail inbox. It's like being a teenager all over again.
She sometimes gets a bad press in IOM, but no one has taken the time to dig beneath the surface. Sarah-Jayne is a lovely woman, and I'm a lucky guy.
...she's a twin too, and thankfully, I get on well with her brother. God job really because he's in the RAF, and I bet he's got big friends he could call on!!
We've had long chats about the situation, about the baby's father, about us living apart. After all the linen has been washed at 40 degrees with seperate softener and hung out to dry, we are still together.
I have no fears about becoming a 'Dad' to someone else's child. I remember when I was a bingo caller my Mum once said she could see me taking on a ready-made family :o) Of course I do have some concerns, it's a very tricky situation, but we are open with each other about everything. Thankfully, we are both taking it slow and steady, and even in these early stages, we are both enjoying it - Well I certainly am, and she definately seems to be!
My next visit to IOM will be after baby is born, and I've already made arrangements to spend a little time with them both. We are also going away as a family unit at the end of the summer for a UK break. One of those situations that will either break us or bond us.
The important thing is, I have those butterflies. My face lights up when my phone vibrates with a text. I giggle when I see her name in my e-mail inbox. It's like being a teenager all over again.
She sometimes gets a bad press in IOM, but no one has taken the time to dig beneath the surface. Sarah-Jayne is a lovely woman, and I'm a lucky guy.
...she's a twin too, and thankfully, I get on well with her brother. God job really because he's in the RAF, and I bet he's got big friends he could call on!!
I am a coward
I've always suspected it, but never owned up to the fact. Now I have proof that I'm a coward.
It all stems from the moral dilemma "What would you do if you heard a woman screaming for help?" Natually, I assumed I'd be the knight in shining armour, and run to her aid, but on Tuesday night I failed the test.
It was exactly 3am. I had been sound asleep, but something had woken me. I thought at first I'd left a horror film playing on my video, or it was music coming from next door, but it wasn't. It was a blood-curdling scream for help, coming from outside my window.
I lay there, still not sure of what I'd heard, but then it happened again. This wasn't a playful scream, or even a drunken woman playing games, this was a real cry for help . And what did I do? Nothing.
I listened intently for other sounds. I half expected to hear male raised voices, or even the sound of a fight, but there was nothing but the woman's intermitent out-crys. I tried sheepishly looking out of my bedroom window, but she must have been directly below me and I could see nothing. I moved into the lounge and tried looking out of the french windows, but I still couldn't see anything.
Then a man appeared from the flats opposite, holding back a huge dog on a leash. He was talking to the person who had been screaming, but he hadn't crossed the road. Conclusion: she wasn't alone, and she wasn't in need of medical attention. Something about the situation was dangerous though, if a man with a huge dog was avoiding approaching.
After that, it all died down. No more voices, no police sirens, no ambulances. I still don't know what actually happened, but all I do know is I didn't even have the guts to step out onto the safety of my balcony to see if anyone needed assistance.
Perhaps I've been too long away from big city life, perhaps IOM has softened me. I just felt so ashamed of not taking positive action. Is is a sign of our decaying society? Or is it just me that is sinking.
I still believe that if the circumstances were different I can still help someone in distress. If I walk along a cliff head and hear 'Help' from below, I know I wouldn't ignore it. If I came across a burning building and 'Help' came from inside, I know I was take some kind of action.
...but at 3am, a cry for help from a woman will remain unanswered because I am a coward.
It all stems from the moral dilemma "What would you do if you heard a woman screaming for help?" Natually, I assumed I'd be the knight in shining armour, and run to her aid, but on Tuesday night I failed the test.
It was exactly 3am. I had been sound asleep, but something had woken me. I thought at first I'd left a horror film playing on my video, or it was music coming from next door, but it wasn't. It was a blood-curdling scream for help, coming from outside my window.
I lay there, still not sure of what I'd heard, but then it happened again. This wasn't a playful scream, or even a drunken woman playing games, this was a real cry for help . And what did I do? Nothing.
I listened intently for other sounds. I half expected to hear male raised voices, or even the sound of a fight, but there was nothing but the woman's intermitent out-crys. I tried sheepishly looking out of my bedroom window, but she must have been directly below me and I could see nothing. I moved into the lounge and tried looking out of the french windows, but I still couldn't see anything.
Then a man appeared from the flats opposite, holding back a huge dog on a leash. He was talking to the person who had been screaming, but he hadn't crossed the road. Conclusion: she wasn't alone, and she wasn't in need of medical attention. Something about the situation was dangerous though, if a man with a huge dog was avoiding approaching.
After that, it all died down. No more voices, no police sirens, no ambulances. I still don't know what actually happened, but all I do know is I didn't even have the guts to step out onto the safety of my balcony to see if anyone needed assistance.
Perhaps I've been too long away from big city life, perhaps IOM has softened me. I just felt so ashamed of not taking positive action. Is is a sign of our decaying society? Or is it just me that is sinking.
I still believe that if the circumstances were different I can still help someone in distress. If I walk along a cliff head and hear 'Help' from below, I know I wouldn't ignore it. If I came across a burning building and 'Help' came from inside, I know I was take some kind of action.
...but at 3am, a cry for help from a woman will remain unanswered because I am a coward.
April 14, 2008
Street Cleaning
All the animals come out at night. Someday a real rain will come and wash all this scum off the streets. - Travis Bickle, Taxi Driver (1976)
I had the weekend off. Quite a novelty for me, usually I'm working - after all, Saturday and Sunday are the busiest days in the world of sport. But not this week. This week I was free to amuse myself, weather and money permitting.
Well sadly, both of those elements had a major contributing factor to my actions this weekend. Nevermind. There was a pile of laundry the size of K2 to do, a case of beer that was in danger of going past it's sell-by date, and a whole shelf unit packed with DVDs just aching to be watched.
I got an early night on the Friday, with the intention of starting my weekend with a well deserved lie-in. Guess which idiot forgot to turn his alarm off and was woken up at 6am?
By midday I was onto my 2nd load of washing, my 4th film, and my 5th beer. By early evening the flat smelt like a laundrette, I had become the world's leading expert on Hitchcock movies and I was singing the theme tune to 'Cheers' to myself.
I went to bed at about midnight. Surprisingly I'd had a really enjoyable day. For Sunday I planned on having the lie-in I'd missed out on that morning, and if the weather held up, I'd go for a walk to finally explore the surrounding area. Typically, I was kept awake by the usual Saturday sounds. It starts of with boistrous shouting as large groups head into town for a night out. A few hours later the city is filled with a deafening orchestra of police and ambulance sirens. The night is rounded off by the boistrous voices coming home, usually attempting to sing, kicking tin cans and talking to random lamp-posts at the top of their voices.
...but the next day started off beautifully. I woke early again (must be a sub-conscience thing). I went into the lounge and looked out of the window. The street was deserted but the rain was bucketing down. I stepped out onto the balcony, and just watched the downpour. It felt so fresh and cleansing. (It was at this point that I decided pyjama shorts and a t-shirt were inappropriate attire, so I nipped back in, got changed and went back out again)
The overhang of the roof was just enough to keep my dry, but if I stretched out my arm I could feel the water, so refreshing. The hum of traffic from the duel carriage way in the background almost sounded like a flowing river. I think I stayed there for about 15 minutes. When I went back inside I kept the french windows open so I could carry on listening to the water.
Sadly the rest of the day couldn't match that. I couldn't go out because I'd get soaked, so it was back to the sofa, back to the DVDs and a lot of texting. I did make an attempt to clean the bathroom at one point, and ran a vacuum cleaner over the lounge floor, but other than that I was a sofa slob.
Towards the end of the night I had two bizarre text momemts at almost the same time. Sarah-Jayne suggested I'd been having a fling with Leah from the Isle of Man (chance would be a fine thing... Leah is gorgeous!!) and Jackie suggested I was flirting with her when she told me her divorce had come through. I read the text back, and I still can't work out where the flirt is. I must be good. I can flirt subconsciously now :o) I'm glad I'm hundreds of miles away - I'd be getting slaps from a whole army of women otherwise, and I haven't even done anything (for once!)
So there you go. An uneventful weekend off, but a thoroughly enjoyable one. I'm off again on Tuesday and Wednesday and I get to see French and Saunders Live then. Life isn't always crap.
....sub note. If you want to make structures out of empty cans, don't drink a prime number of beers. When I had 11 empties there was always one left over or I was one short for whatever construction I tried to make. Stupidly I tried again after I'd had two more. 13 was worse than 11 !! Maybe that's why they sell them in multiples of 4.
April 09, 2008
Life is Crap
It's one of life's bitter ironies. I write a blog entry called 'Death of a Friend', and at the same time, a friend dies.
I've just found out that my old supervisor at the private bank I worked for has died of cancer.
Andrea was wonderful to work with. When she was training me, I thought she was really stern and had no sense of humour. By the time I left the bank 9 months later we were amazing friends. We both had the same taste in music and she also loved going horse racing. At that time, I was visiting race meetings about once a month and when I came back to work, she was always keen to find out how I got on and to find out what the track was like.
I know she backed me up behind my back to the bosses if I was a few minutes late for work, or took slightly too long for lunch. (although she always pretended she hadn't). She was really sympathetic to the fact I was having to work two full-time jobs. When I finally left, we kept in touch by e-mail right up until the end. She hated all my replacements at work, she once said none of them could match me :o) At one point when I was looking for work again, she arranged an interview for me back at the bank because she said she couldn't work without me! (well so she said anyway. )
The saddest news is that I've now found out she specifically asked her friend to get in touch with me to tell me she was dying when she found out it was terminal. She was concerned I'd be sending e-mails to her at work and she wouldn't be replying.
Andrea. You've been taken far too soon. I'll miss you x x
I've just found out that my old supervisor at the private bank I worked for has died of cancer.
Andrea was wonderful to work with. When she was training me, I thought she was really stern and had no sense of humour. By the time I left the bank 9 months later we were amazing friends. We both had the same taste in music and she also loved going horse racing. At that time, I was visiting race meetings about once a month and when I came back to work, she was always keen to find out how I got on and to find out what the track was like.
I know she backed me up behind my back to the bosses if I was a few minutes late for work, or took slightly too long for lunch. (although she always pretended she hadn't). She was really sympathetic to the fact I was having to work two full-time jobs. When I finally left, we kept in touch by e-mail right up until the end. She hated all my replacements at work, she once said none of them could match me :o) At one point when I was looking for work again, she arranged an interview for me back at the bank because she said she couldn't work without me! (well so she said anyway. )
The saddest news is that I've now found out she specifically asked her friend to get in touch with me to tell me she was dying when she found out it was terminal. She was concerned I'd be sending e-mails to her at work and she wouldn't be replying.
Andrea. You've been taken far too soon. I'll miss you x x
April 08, 2008
Death of a Friend Part II
This also follows on nicely from 'Fantasy Island', the previous blog entry to this one.
Pain: The Stone has officially closed
Pleasure: It has now changed to a free site available to anyone. The puzzles appear to be the same too
Pain: I had to re-register, so all my completed puzzles are no longer there and have to be resolved.
Pleasure: Something to do during the long, drawn-out midweek workshifts !
Pain: The Stone has officially closed
Pleasure: It has now changed to a free site available to anyone. The puzzles appear to be the same too
Pain: I had to re-register, so all my completed puzzles are no longer there and have to be resolved.
Pleasure: Something to do during the long, drawn-out midweek workshifts !
Fantasy Island
A few days ago I returned from another flying visit to the Isle of Man. This time, that is technically accurate as I did choose to fly this time. Makes a world of difference, especially as the planes in both directions were half empty and I could stretch my legs out. (or were they half full...?)
The reason I'm writing this blog entry is because of Newton's Third Law of Motion. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. In reality that can translate as: For every act of pleasure, there is an equal and opposite act of pain.
I was travelling this time to stay with Lee, Laura and Tyler and to meet the new arrival, baby Jake. Also on the "to meet" list were Jackie (of course), Ali, a face from the past, and Glenn, an old work mate and one of my most loyal drinking buddies. It's these last three that help define Newton's principal. Lets take them in alphabetical order:
I had arranged to meet Ali for a drink on the day I arrived. I don't honestly know what preconceived ideas I had about seeing her again. She has always been on my mind since our brief liason. I think it was that nagging doubt in my head telling me the first time might have worked out differently if it hadn't been bad timing. I needed to know if something was there. A phoenix from the ashes so to speak. Had things moved on, or was this a chance to start something new?
The meeting was fantastic. No embarassing silences, just lots of chat. Nostalgic in places, looking forward in others. She is still as beautiful as ever, and it didn't take me long to realise my feelings for her hadn't really changed. But time has past, and it was clear that there was no point even attempting a relationship. I'm no longer local and she is off travelling again soon. We parted on good terms, and I hope she keeps in touch. For the first part of Newton's Principal though, it had ended with a hint of sadness that a chapter in my life was closing, probably for good.
...the equal and opposite pleasure? I met some random friends after seeing Ali, Sarah-Jayne included. She is a lovely girl, and has been going through a tough time recently. She's heavily pregnant, but the father has all but abandoned her. We chatted for ages and I didn't realise but occasionally I was rubbing her bump. When she left to go home, I got a text message. It was Sarah-Jayne inviting me back to her's to keep her bump company. She had enjoyed chatting to me, and adored the belly rubs. To cut a long story short, I ended up keeping her 'company' all night (I'll leave out the details because my Mum is probably reading this!!) Now, we text and message constantly, and things seem to be developing at a nice steady pace.
Ok, Part II, Glenn. We arranged to meet in his lunch-hour on the Friday for a beer or three and to catch up. Seeing Glenn again after nearly two years was great. That's the pleasure part.
..and here's the pain. His nearest pub was the QuarterBridge and I was staying at the far end of Farmhill (for non-Manx people that's about 35 mins on foot). I got to the rendezvous slightly before him, and when he showed up the pub still hadn't opened. In fact it looked almost deralict. The QB is not exactly near any other pubs, but we trekked off to the next nearest, The Pinewood in Pulrose. (Not anyone's first choice of drinking establishment, but needs must when you've been walking all morning and you're gasping for a drink!). When we arrived there, the brewery delivery van was unloading, and the pub...... was closed!
"Doesn't open til about 4 mate", said the delivery driver.
Next nearest would have been the Heron which is in....Farmhill, three quarters of the way back to where I set off from in the first place. In total I had been walking for an hour and a half, almost non-stop. No drink, no food and I was wearing completely the wrong trainers. But at least I did get to catch up with Glenn.
Finally, Jackie. Pleasure is the easy bit. She came out after work on the Thursday, we stayed out til the pubs shut (including a short lock-in at the last pub) and I got a cab back to Lee and Laura's. Jackie has this ability to put a smile on the faces of everyone in the room, without even trying. It was a fantastic night. A bit of pool, a jukebox, random chatter... you can't ask for more than that. Sarah-Jayne came back out for a while, and I got Jackie's seal of approval on that situation too (which means a lot).
..and the pain? Jackie missed her bus back to Port Erin, came back to the pub, carried on drinking but refused every offer of a spare bed for the night. Instead she chose to use her office keys to sleep at work. Consequence? She has had the office keys taken off her, as well as her job. The guilt I feel for this situation is off the scale.
Extra examples of Newtons principal from the trip:
Pleasure: Saw Nev again now he's back from the USA. Didn't even realise he was back. A great bloke. As he was back working in the pub, managed to catch up fully.
Pain: Ant (another great bloke) split from his girlfriend during the trip.
Pleasure: Met up briefly with Julie and Jasmine, and found out things were going a bit better between her and Jonathan.
Pain: Martin and Emma have started living apart, and neither knows if things will work out between them anymore.
...isn't life complicated?
The reason I'm writing this blog entry is because of Newton's Third Law of Motion. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. In reality that can translate as: For every act of pleasure, there is an equal and opposite act of pain.
I was travelling this time to stay with Lee, Laura and Tyler and to meet the new arrival, baby Jake. Also on the "to meet" list were Jackie (of course), Ali, a face from the past, and Glenn, an old work mate and one of my most loyal drinking buddies. It's these last three that help define Newton's principal. Lets take them in alphabetical order:
I had arranged to meet Ali for a drink on the day I arrived. I don't honestly know what preconceived ideas I had about seeing her again. She has always been on my mind since our brief liason. I think it was that nagging doubt in my head telling me the first time might have worked out differently if it hadn't been bad timing. I needed to know if something was there. A phoenix from the ashes so to speak. Had things moved on, or was this a chance to start something new?
The meeting was fantastic. No embarassing silences, just lots of chat. Nostalgic in places, looking forward in others. She is still as beautiful as ever, and it didn't take me long to realise my feelings for her hadn't really changed. But time has past, and it was clear that there was no point even attempting a relationship. I'm no longer local and she is off travelling again soon. We parted on good terms, and I hope she keeps in touch. For the first part of Newton's Principal though, it had ended with a hint of sadness that a chapter in my life was closing, probably for good.
...the equal and opposite pleasure? I met some random friends after seeing Ali, Sarah-Jayne included. She is a lovely girl, and has been going through a tough time recently. She's heavily pregnant, but the father has all but abandoned her. We chatted for ages and I didn't realise but occasionally I was rubbing her bump. When she left to go home, I got a text message. It was Sarah-Jayne inviting me back to her's to keep her bump company. She had enjoyed chatting to me, and adored the belly rubs. To cut a long story short, I ended up keeping her 'company' all night (I'll leave out the details because my Mum is probably reading this!!) Now, we text and message constantly, and things seem to be developing at a nice steady pace.
Ok, Part II, Glenn. We arranged to meet in his lunch-hour on the Friday for a beer or three and to catch up. Seeing Glenn again after nearly two years was great. That's the pleasure part.
..and here's the pain. His nearest pub was the QuarterBridge and I was staying at the far end of Farmhill (for non-Manx people that's about 35 mins on foot). I got to the rendezvous slightly before him, and when he showed up the pub still hadn't opened. In fact it looked almost deralict. The QB is not exactly near any other pubs, but we trekked off to the next nearest, The Pinewood in Pulrose. (Not anyone's first choice of drinking establishment, but needs must when you've been walking all morning and you're gasping for a drink!). When we arrived there, the brewery delivery van was unloading, and the pub...... was closed!
"Doesn't open til about 4 mate", said the delivery driver.
Next nearest would have been the Heron which is in....Farmhill, three quarters of the way back to where I set off from in the first place. In total I had been walking for an hour and a half, almost non-stop. No drink, no food and I was wearing completely the wrong trainers. But at least I did get to catch up with Glenn.
Finally, Jackie. Pleasure is the easy bit. She came out after work on the Thursday, we stayed out til the pubs shut (including a short lock-in at the last pub) and I got a cab back to Lee and Laura's. Jackie has this ability to put a smile on the faces of everyone in the room, without even trying. It was a fantastic night. A bit of pool, a jukebox, random chatter... you can't ask for more than that. Sarah-Jayne came back out for a while, and I got Jackie's seal of approval on that situation too (which means a lot).
..and the pain? Jackie missed her bus back to Port Erin, came back to the pub, carried on drinking but refused every offer of a spare bed for the night. Instead she chose to use her office keys to sleep at work. Consequence? She has had the office keys taken off her, as well as her job. The guilt I feel for this situation is off the scale.
Extra examples of Newtons principal from the trip:
Pleasure: Saw Nev again now he's back from the USA. Didn't even realise he was back. A great bloke. As he was back working in the pub, managed to catch up fully.
Pain: Ant (another great bloke) split from his girlfriend during the trip.
Pleasure: Met up briefly with Julie and Jasmine, and found out things were going a bit better between her and Jonathan.
Pain: Martin and Emma have started living apart, and neither knows if things will work out between them anymore.
...isn't life complicated?
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