Tony Blair ate my hot chilli peanuts

Grocery graveyards
I think all the major retailers have certain stores where stock gets sent to die. I found a stockpile of hot chilli peanuts at Tesco in Chorley on Saturday. I bought five bags; gave one to my friends to try (my generosity knows no bounds) and brought the remainder home for my parents, who'd only managed to avoid severe withdrawal symptoms by slowing their metabolism to a state where they slept 23 hours a day (or so it appeared).

MacShit
Actually, Tesco proved to be my saviour on Saturday. A running theme in here is my obsession with bowel movements - I have a very active digestive system that I'm actually rather proud of. Anyway, my friends have been working very hard on fitting a new bathroom and their toilet was out of action on Saturday while I was there. I managed to do a load of shopping in about 3 shifts so I could take advantage of the store's full range of facilities. On one visit, I even had a convenient nosebleed as I was entering the store (for real) and this gave me an excellent excuse to check out the the ladies' again! That's one good thing about modern retailers and fast food outlets: their reliable toilet facilities in times of need. Let's face it, not many folks like using public lavs when out and about and, at some point, most of us have skipped past the queue in McDonalds and headed straight for the loo. But don't bother with KFC because they've grown wise to it and you have to get the key from a staff member before you can go. "A chicken zinger burger and big massive poo please".

I blame Tony Blair and Gordon Brown for most things these days; I'm bound to be right a good proportion of the time. Mr Bleuuhhhrr has been in Manchester today and I actually saw two uniformed coppers in the city centre on my way home. He can come again!

Of course, The Mind Gym would tell us not to go around blaming others for things that we're not particularly satisfied with in our lives. We should look at things from a different perspective, turn a situation around as if we were a different person. Any way up, people would look at my life and agree that it's shite, as they would their own no doubt. And what do people in the Uk have in common? That's right! Tony Blair and Gordon Brown stealing their money and ruining the country.

Anyway, I don't want to descend into politics because others do that sort of thing so much better than me.

Cold
It seems to have been cold since September and dark since November. There are three months of hope for a decent summer around March, April & May, then this is followed by the growing disappointment and despair of realising that summer never actually happens here - you just get a slightly warmer brand of greyness and rain.

Running
Running is torture; I find it difficult to believe that anybody finds the activity exhilerating, or fun. It really hurts - everything really hurts when I run: toes, feet, ankles, lungs, calfs, tits. Running must be hard or they wouldn't have made Kelly Holmes a dame otherwise.

Other people's blogs
A lot of other people's blogs are very good and very entertaining. The contributors seem to spend a lot of time and effort on them. It makes you wonder when something goes from being a bit of fun that you add to every now and again to something that becomes a bit of a bind. Perhaps with the popular ones, there's a growing expectation from a captive audience, eager for more. The associated pressure could become rather stifling, I imagine (iyemagin).

And finally for today, a rant about ranting. Looking at these blogs, I've noticed a propensity for bloggers to describe or name their efforts using the words "rant", "rambling" and "random", and sometimes "musings" (could you see what I'd done with my "Over the rainbow" colour spectrum there?). I'd done it myself and I realised that ranting isn't particularly healthy and I didn't particularly want to join the massed ranks of Victor Meldrews that populate the interweb (thank ee, Mr Vavin sir). Ranting, rambling and musings I can understand, but why random? Random??? Surely if it was random, you'd just get a string of nonsense words or something? Having never been a student of philosophy, I can't have an argument with myself on this one, but I'd love to know what would happen if people wrote down every random thought they had. Surely it'd be something like Turette's ('scuse the spelling) syndrome or something. MOT. There, that's one and it's senseless. I suppose it comes from the same sort of mindset that would proclaim, "This random guy came up to me and I got most perturbed". Ah well, the musings of a ranting, rambling mind, eh.

Anyway, I've now gone for "goings on" instead. "Goings on" is quite a good description for the contents of a lot of blogs because people convey things that are going on in their lives. However, and here's the clever bit, "going on" is also a synonym for "ranting". Going on is that thing that mums do really well in a kind of sadistic payback for all the times they fell victim to our whining when we were kids.

Jeez, I'm a boring twat at times. The rest of the time, I'm not even boring; I'm just a twat.

Codeine is ace until it makes you want to vomit and bungs up your colon.

And I had another random nosebleed this evening. In Asda of all places. The indignity of it.

Blast...

...from the past

I used to enjoy going into the old MSN chatrooms, well one in particular that was a friendly place where no naughtiness was allowed. I've made a few real friends from there and others I still chat to in messenger. One was a feller who went by the name Metranil Vavin, or Vav, as he became known. He is lovely, or at least I think he is: completely outrageous and he always cheered me up just by be being "in the room". He and others also provided a virtual shoulder to lean on when I was going through a particularly difficult time in 2003. Anyway, Mr Vavin has found my blog (see comment below) and I'm absloutely delighted about it.



Blogging is something of a natural thing for me to do: I spent an entire year documenting my every day happenings in e-mails that I sent to my closest friend and I found writing down certain thoughts and happenings rather therapeutic. Despite not doing that anymore, I still found the idea of offloading certain things very attractive and then I discovered web logs. I tried to start one at the end of 2003, but I only had venomous thoughts to convey and it would've been destructive and unfair. Anyway, New Years and what have you gave me the desire for a new pet hobby and this is it! Perhaps one day I'll collate all this crap and publish a diary. I just hope that I never become famous, or get into a position of power, because this sort of ranting could land a person in hot water.



I think I'm getting a cold: my throat isn't sore, but it feels weird and tight; my nose and lips are dry and my sinuses are a little blocked.



I need to do a bit of work now. Humph.

Supermarket etiquette

I love Tesco! However, there are certain things about supermarkets that I cannot stand. I went to my local store this evening and the thing that always hits me there is the laziness of the customers: this is evident in the car park, with trollies strewn all over the place, taking up parking bays - all because people are such lazy bastards that they can't walk the 30 or so yard to the trolley park. Stupid twats. I think it's quite a well-to-do area (in comparison to where I live) and some of the customers must find that sort of thing beneath them. Either that or they're just inconsiderate and lazy. Second annoyance is changing stocks: you'll go there for ages, get used to a certain product and then you'll find it's been discontinued. I always find this with hair styling products and it really pisses me off - why do they do it? My family also became rather partial to Tesco's own brand chilli peanuts over Christmas and they too have been discontinued. There were a few confused and forlorn-looking punters scouring the salty snack aisle while I was there. A popular snack - gone! Yet there's a whole bloody aisle given over to Easter (25th March) and bastard Valentine's Day (14th February - I'm not bitter). I'm not just knocking Tesco for this premature assault of goods on its customers because all the supermarkets do it, but I wish they wouldn't. The year passes quickly enough as it is without bringing things forward months in advance. It won't be long before they start selling Christmas things again.



So I negotiated the shop (and they only had organic papardelle) and got to the till where the woman in front of me waited till she'd paid and my own goods were being scanned before she decided to think about packing her three items very slowly. I told the lad on the till to hang on a minute because our stuff was getting mixed up and she gave me such a glare. She was so slow and fucking retarded, but looked bright enough to know better, I could've killed her. All my stuff had been scanned by the time she picked up her bloody stuff and pissed off. I think she was one of these hippy types who refuses to be rushed by the pressures of the 21st century, but she was coming close to getting a slap - that'd have brought her into 2005! Stupid bitch. Then I got charged for three cans of borlotti beans and not two as I'd bought. Still, I should get them for free because of it.



I think I'm going to e-mail Tesco and tell them to start stocking their chilli peanuts again - they're DELISH!



Other stuff

What else has been happening in Tinaworld? Not much. It looks like the administration of my contract is finally getting shifted to my other base. It actually doesn't make any difference to my salary, but I get the right number of holidays and I trust this particular organisation to handle things much more fairly. My current host employer is basically shit and nobody in HR there seems to know their arse from their elbow - or they don't care.



Because of the impending shift of things, I made sure that I got six months' worth of travel expenses claim in today. Again, it doesn't make any real difference because it's money that's already essentially come out of my pocket, it's just nice to get an extra £300 in one month's salary. It also helps to clear the Christmas overdraft hangover. Helps to clear, unfortunately, it won't wipe it out.



Windows media player and the other similar PC media software packages are brilliant! It's great to have a load of music stored on your PC, play your stuff on shuffle play and use Media Player to play "beat the intro" against yourself. I'd like a hard drive portable jukebox thing to store all my music on, but they're a bit too expensive. I think I'd look at the iRiver models and avoid iPod like the plague. Then again, I wouldn't turn my nose up at one if I was given one as a pressie - I just don't think they're the best value for money and Apple always tend to concentrate too much on design and forget about functionality and reliability.



I basically hate anything to do with Apples and Macs after a torrid experience with a pink iMac that was forced on me. In an act of mercy, somebody kindly stole it from my office at work and I had better performance out of a crappy old PC than I ever achieved with the pink pest. Pile of crap, used by anally-retentive geek conspiracy-theorists who prefer style over substance. Saying that, the design of the things leaves a lot to be desired too. Everything about them is bobbins.



I think that will do for now. I want to get an early night because I'm shagged.



"Wham! Bam! I am, a man! Job or no job, you can't tell me that I'm not. Do you enjoy what you do? If not, just stop, just say no!" Wham rap is top notch. Eeeeh, takes me back. 22 years, can you believe it?

Cream doughnuts

I've just had a cream doughnut for my pudding after tea (dinner, supper) of marinated tuna steaks, that were "pan-fried" in a very hot frying pan, and a vegetable accompaniment of green beans and sprouts. Sprouts with tuna steak??? I had them after I'd finished the other bits. They weren't very nice today.



Cold

It's quite nippy here in England today. I wouldn't go as far as to say it was freezing, because it's not, it's just a bit cold. I just seem to be feeling it today. It must be my age.



Catnip

We had a very entertaining evening at the expense of our furry friends last night. I'd bought some catnip teabags from Wittards and I'd only just managed to get the cellophane off the box when the Moose started trying to get into it. I made a tea from one of the bags and gave a fresh one to gorgeous Max to play with: he was completely off his face; rubbing it, rolling round on the floor, rubbing anything it had touched. I brought some of the tea into the living room to see if he'd drink it, but he just tried to rub his face on it. Then Snotto got hold of the wet bag and lay with his chin on it for half any hour - Max found his neck very attractive after this. I've confiscated the bags for a couple of days until the effects wear off.



Brothers

As much as you love 'em, brothers are a pain. I don't think anybody with a brother would disagrees with me. My brother is impossible to buy presents for; or should I say, he asks for presents that are impossible to buy. It was his birthday on Sunday and he asked if I could get him a black Wrangler denim jacket. Well, no, I can't. Nowhere sells them: not in blue, not in black, for neither boys nor girls. Oh look, Jeans Direct on the internet sell one for £50. FIFTY QUID??? You can get a Levi's denim jacket from Costco for £20, but he wants a bloody Wrangler one! Tit. I'll see what he says. If it's what he really wants, I'll order it, but he'll have to pay a fair bit towards it.



I need another coffee.



Wrong number texts

I was knackered last night so I went to bed relatively early for me. I'd put the light out at about 11pm, and must've dropped off fairly soon afterwards. I was woken up by the message tone on my mobile at about 11.45pm: "Hey sexpot, i'm in bulford soon again 4 a week, wot r u wearing?x". I was very tempted to reply: "My pyjamas and a scowl. You've got the wrong number, dickhead", but I fell back to sleep.



How is it possible to send a text message to a wrong number? Surely somebody you'd call "Sexpot" would deserve a place in your mobile's phonebook and this would remove all possibility of keying in the wrong number. Unless you're a thick as pigshit, which let's face it, somebody who'd use abbreviations such as "wot", "r" and "u" probably is. Should I post the guilty party's number here for all you good folk(s) to call and message in the small hours? Tempting.



Subway

I had a subway sarny for my dinner today. It was OK, but I'd love to know what "BMT" means. I was going to have my usual cup-soup-soup, but the Tesco Express near work doesn't sell them. I obviously went for something with a similar calorific value!



Contact lenses

These bloody lenses are killing me this evening. I've not had them in for a couple of days and I put them in when I got in from work because I'm going the gym later and I want to get accustomed to them before going out. They feel like little bits of sand today. They're monthly torics and I think they're not as comfortable as the daily disposables are because they have to be sturdier.



Yes, off to the gym later, so I have to psych myself up for it - it takes all my energy doing that! Honestly, the things we have to put ourselves through as 21st century humans. At least there are curries, chips, doughnuts and salty snacks as compensation!

Well, well, well

I did a Google search for my blog this morning and it came up as listed within another search thing. I don't know whether I need to exercise caution from now on, but I don't think I'll be inundated with readers.



Today I managed to get out of bed at 9.30 - it's Saturday, you see. My back's a bit sore today and I'm hoping that it eases off within the next hour or so because I want (need) to go the gym.



This weekend could turn out one of many ways, with "really good", "not bad" and "terrible" being amongst the possibilities. I'm off out this afternoon to see some friends and there'll be curry for tea. If you're ever in Adlington, near Chorley, go the the Shapla takeaway, it's top notch. Tomorrow I'm going car hunting with my sister. I've no idea why anybody thinks I'm qualified to help anybody make a decision of this magnitude, but there you go. I think the car hunting thing could be quite an ordeal.



I need to delete the "Cannot find server" post - it was a test thing that I did when I couldn't access Blogger the other evening.



My breaksfast isn't particularly nice today - Shredded Wheat Bitesize and sugar-free Alpen. It's a bit of trial trying to eat it.

Cannot find server

Cannot find server

Humph!!!!

Palm powered

Well, It’s taken me three and a half years, but I’ve finally decided to start using my PDA properly. I tend to use it to transfer details of my diary and contacts between bases, and it’s really useful for that sort of thing. But apart from that, it’s just a toy. Anyway, with Outlook and stuff, it’s really easy to jot down notes in the “To do” list rather than just leaving bits of paper with scribbles hanging around. Indeed, the Mind gym advocates writing down all good ideas as soon as you have them; moreover, it says that some great innovations have come about by thinking of what you’ve got and then trying to think of the exact opposite (stuffed crust pizzas are an example). So yes, I’m starting to make notes in my PDA and categorising them according to projects or people and then I can bring up the tasks as and when. If I can be bothered of course.



Stuffed crust pizzas are something that I’ve never particularly fancied in all honesty, I’m more of a thin and crispy to tell you the truth. But I suppose they’re a huge marketing success so that’s what counts.



Carmelita here insists on saying “So you haven’t got access to his electronic?”, meaning “Has such and such given you rights to his Outlook diary?”. I guess there’s nothing wrong with saying “his electronic”, it’s just that when you hear it 40 times each day at very loud volume, it becomes rather tiresome. Also, it’s indicative of how backward some people’s working practices are: I didn’t realise people used anything other than electronic diaries at work these days, especially when lots of people need to know where the head honcho is.



She’s now talking about her latest holiday:she has about 5 foreign holidays each year, it’s amazing. Then again, she washes her clothes by soaking them in the bath and claims lieu time for simply hanging around work till 6pm, so she has the time and resources to do this.



Did I tell you about the swan? There’s a little pond near here and, last spring, it was home to a pair of mating swans, as well as the usual ducks. Some charming individual killed one of the swans and it caused a fair bit of outrage, quite rightly too. However, Carmelita’s suggestion to prevent such an unfortunate event happening again was to “move all the birds to the canal, drain the pond, fill it with concrete and use it for car parking!” Yes, because the people who killed the swan wouldn’t be able to find their way to the canal, would they? Honestly. I won’t go into the episode of litter on the expressway because my arteries can’t take the surge in blood pressure at the moment.



After a ranting e-mail to my line manager, after she’d expressed concerned about the disappearance of my usual friendly, happy-go-lucky persona and the manifestation of very grumpy one, I got a phonecall from her in which she tried to counsel me. I’m not knocking her and I think an awful lot about her, she’s great, but when you’re feeling completely crap about everything, it doesn’t help to be told: “At least you’ve got a job. And it could be much worse; at least you’re not in Thailand”. True, I’m not in Thailand, but it’s all relative, isn’t it? There are no exclusive rights to feeling wretched and in my current frame of mind, given my current situation, I feel bloody wretched.



So that’s me for the moment. I’m off to the gym tonight. I went on Tuesday evening and I didn’t half smell rotten by the time I’d finished; I made myself feel quite poorly so I felt quite sorry for the poor people that were either side of me when I was on the cross trainer – I didn’t do my arms though, so I tried to minimise the pollution as much as possible at least.

Blogging rocks!

I never thought that I'd be the type of person who'd say that something "rocked", but things are about to change! I've just received my copy of The mind gym, which is some sort of self-help, teach yourself how to be fantastic and popular book. We'll see. There are certainly things that I know I can improve on socially, but it's hard when you're ever so slightly autistic. I'm just incredibly shy and I don't have too much self confidence so I don't fair too well in certain situations, particularly those that require face-to-face interaction. I can't really be bothered with people.



Aside from being a social cripple (are you allowed to say "cripple" anymore???), I think I'm OK - people who are my friends seem to like me - I just like to keep myself to myself. Like I always say, clever people don't tend to have to talk about their intelligence because it just shows. And there's nothing clever about talking about yourself all the time, you just look a twat. I just wish I had the gall to come out and say that to certain people at work who are completely self absorbed to the point of me feeling embarrassed for them (admittedly not for long) whenever they open their mouths in public because they can't help but talk about themselves continuously. I tend to live my life through other people, mainly because I haven't really got much of a life of my own to talk about.



So yes, The mind gym! I'll be doing my workouts with great gusto. Or should that be guts? My Christmas tummy is still very much with me, but never mind. I will definitely be inflicting an hour or so of torture on this body of mine tonight. I think a target of mine for this year might be to get down to a size 12 on my arse by the summer. It's something to aim for at least. Then again, I think I'd be happier if I achieved something like being able to do a 5km Race for Life or something (that reminds me that I must look at the Race for Life diary for this year). Or perhaps even the Manchester 10km run.



Women's dress sizes

Now, this is a weird one. I used to be rather hefty and then I lost a lot of weight, starting about 5 years ago. I'd ballooned to about a size 28/30 (from Evans too) on my bum and I was about a size 26 in blouses. Now, Evans are very generous with their sizes too, so some might say that I was even bigger. I never weighed myself because it was too embarrassing (and I was past caring), but at an occie health checkup in '98, the words "seventeen and a half stone" were muttered. Cripes! Anyway, for one reason and another, I lost a lot of weight and I'm now about size 14 on my behind and a size 12ish on top. Not bad. So where was this leading me to? Yeah, stupid modern sizing for things. When will retailers stop using the S/M/L sizing guides? This means absolutely nothing, particularly when the sizes are so different - even between styles in the same shop. It's bad enough that a size 16 in one shop is a size 12 in another and a size 18 elsewhere. And then they throw metric things in to confuse the situation further! Or is it European? What exactly does "42" in a size 42 equate to? I suppose the best thing to do is to actually try the clothes on in the shop, but it's such a fart at times.



And then there's the eternal line from Prince's Kiss: "Act your age, not your shoe size". Well that's all well and good if you're American or British (I'm a size 5 or 4 using these systems), but what about if you're Italian? I'm a size 37. Act your age (34), not your shoe size (37) hardly has the interpretation then, does it? Stupid bloody Europeans. I can't believe we won the war and we're still in this position where we're being dictated to by them!



Better think about going to Fat Fighters. ... there, I've thought about it. No, I'm definitely going tonight. Although my shoulder is rather achy this evening. I walk with very round shoulders and, if I do so for long enough, they don't half hurt.

Cyclists and busdrivers

A favourite rant of mine is the poor standard of driving from other road users. We all have our pet hates about being road users, and some are common complaints: tailgating; middle lane hoggers; dawdling; poor lane discipline at roundabouts; not using indicators appropriately, etc, etc, etc! However, there are two breeds of road user that get my goat up more than any other: the cyclist and the busdriver.



I didn't go to Fat Fighters tonight, I had an errand to run at Dot P's and my knees and back are a little achy today so I figured it best to get the retail business sorted and hopefully I'll be feeling up to a gym visit a little more tomorrow evening. I digress! On my way back, I got to a mini roundabout: the traffic was clear from the right so I started my right turn, only to realise that a complete nob of a cyclist was hurtling onto the roundabout from the left. He showed a complete disregard, or even worse ignorance, of the rules of engagement at such junctions and was totally puzzled when I sounded my horn as a rebuke (and as a warning to him to not be such a twat again). And that is an example of the problem with cyclists: they don't have to know the rules of the road before they can get on their velocipedes like motorists have to do before they can use a car or motorbike; they're a danger to themselves and others; they complain constantly about a lack of cycle lanes. But how many cyclists pay road tax? None of them are insured. It needs to change and this is one of things that's on my "to do" list when I finally run the planet.



OK busdrivers. In all fairness, it's not the busdrivers that piss me off, it's bus lanes and the shear size of the bloody buses that take up all that space on the roads. One of the things about bus lanes that really incenses me is the way that the buses pull out into the normal traffic to get passed their mates who are dropping off or picking up - thus stopping the cars that are already squished into one lane because half the bastard road has been taken up by a bloody bus lane! But at least this happens in bus lanes that are actually used frequently. Around here, there have been quite a few 24hr bus lanes introduced on routes where there is only one bus every 10 minutes or so. This is stupid and has caused an awful lot of congestion where there previously wasn't that much. You see, you take away half of the road and the traffic backs up. It's just a pathetic mind game played by lefty town planners who get their kicks by persecuting motorists, because of course, we're all evil.



I don't know when governments will realise that congestion isn't eased by reducing the useable road surface (and now we're seeing 2+ lanes on the motorways - that's good for rush hour traffic for us poor bastards who have to commute to work because we can't afford to live in expensive cities). There are other sensible and fair methods for making most of the roads we've got and penalising the motorist is just going to piss everyone off even more and create more congestion. Stupid bastards. Of course, they can use their 2+ lanes because they're driven round by chauffeurs.



This thing hasn't got a spell check on it, I think you've probably gathered!



A Series of Unfortunate Events

Strangely enough, I'm not referring to my record-breaking FOUR massive poos yesterday - they were great! I've finally got myself a copy of the film soundtrack by Thomas Newman. Some is OK, some is great, some is a bit crap. But that's OK. I think it's the first CD I've bought in ages.



A final thing for this evening

I had an appraisal last week and I was told to think about personal development and going on some courses. Load of bollocks; it's not me that needs to change, it's everybody else. For goodness sake, if everybody went on the same personal development courses, we'd all be the same pathetic clones of psycho-babbling textbooks. The fun thing about work is coming across people who have different ways of doing things than you, either because it's so hilarious you can laugh at them for ages, or because you can learn from them. Needless to say, I ordered my copy of Mind Gym today. Goodness help us all - as if my friends didn't think I became a big enough twat when I started working for the NHS!



I could just go a pint of Strongbow and a fag.



Oh, and a quick PS. I'm currently reading The Number 1 Ladies' Detective Agency it's really good. And I can't figure out why the font's gone weird, but I don't really care. There, that's better.

And now, from Norwich, it's the Quiz of the Week!

Yes, Norwich. It's got to be the most inaccessible place in the country and some of my closest friends are moving there. What should be aabout a 2 and half hour journey takes nearly 5 because there are no motorways or dual carriageways within 100 miles of the place. Still, not to worry, it'll be great for holidays!



There was something that I'd intended to have a good old rant about, but I've forgotten what it was... can't have been particularly important or rant-worthy then.



I'm borderline hypoglycaemic... I NEED pastry!!!

And I think I do get quite badly affected when my blood sugar drops. Most people tend to feel a bit hungry then a little bit weak, but I just go from feeling Ok to getting shakes and cold sweats. I can't process information or stand up. I'm sure that's not right. It's been suggested that I check my wee for sugar - I suppose this makes a change from coffee or Pepsi Max.



TV nostalgia

I'm trying to find the theme tune for Sale of the Century to have as a ringtone for when my Norfolk-bound friends phone (if they'll still want to know me once they've moved on and up in the world). I've been to the TV Cream website a few times, but I never realised they had MP3s to download too: http://tv.cream.org/specialassignments/themes/4.htm I find these things are always good for a laugh. "And now, from Norwich, it's the Quiz of the Week!". Apparently, Trisha is filmed in Norwich too. Life's little trials always end up having some upsides to them.



Work

Well, I couldn't stay off the subject forever since I was back at work today after a ridiculously long weekend. Basically, it's shit and I'm so utterly pissed off with the way I've been (am being) treated that I really don't want to do anything at the moment. This is a shame because there are lots of things about my job that I love, but I don't see why I should waste any more of my effort when I get no reward or recognition for the things I've done. Appraisals are a waste of time unless there's a proper personal development plan drawn up and they're related to pay awards. Where's the incentive to develop your skills and show initiative when you don't get any reward for it? It's all a con and it's about time I stopped allowing myself to be treated like a mug.



That's about it for me then. I've got to go to Fat Fighters now because I haven't been in nearly a week. I'm really looking forward to it because my back and knees are killing me and I'm knackered. Fantastic. I love my life.

Eight hours a day

Just about half an hour until hometime, so I thought I’d make a contribution for those of us who like the smell of baking and confectionary.



Work

My day here has been a complete waste of time, as it is most days in fact – a real waste of petrol. However I did manage to get Mr Poe to write a definitive, no-nonsense, put it straight letter written to HR with respect getting some sort of conclusion over things. I end up no better off, but it might offer a few advantages in the longer term. I’m still very unhappy about the situation and I’m making more of an effort to find a new job. It’s a shame really because I do love many aspects of my work, mostly at my other base, and I’d hate to leave that, but without any real commitment from anyone in terms of securing my post full time on one site, it’s best that I try to move on.



Yes, so, I’m being very careful to avoid making defamatory statements about my employer, line managers, or colleagues. The line managers I like, most of the colleagues are fine, my employer is shite. It’s a complicated situation, compounded by me being rented out to another organisation - I essentially have a pretty schizophrenic working week that ranges from me enjoying the beginning to absolutely hating the end with a passion. My advice to anybody ever considering taking a post that is split between two distant sites and/or two organisations? DON’T EVEN CONSIDER IT!



However, the end of this week isn’t too bad because I’m going away for a few days. I have a meeting in York tomorrow, which means I’m travelling to friends’ in Leeds this evening and I’ll be taking Friday off too.



Toilets at work

I’ve not been to the toilet enough today and now I’m feeling rather uncomfortable. That’s another rubbish thing about being at work: toilets. You always feel really bad if you have to pass a solid, but what else can you do? You’re here for over 8 hours a day, with an hour’s journey at either end. It’s only natural that you have to go, but we all think ill of the people who’ve used the lav to have a poo, “I went to the ladies’ and somebody had done a poo!” You can see it on their faces as they're washing their hands, the side-ways accusing looks that say, “You’ve had a poo, you filthy woman!” Well, I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go. I’m not one of these weirdos who only goes once a month if there's a full moon.



At least I’ve managed to pass another ten minutes while composing this and I’m now 20 minutes away from homtime.

BBC NEWS | Technology | Looming pitfalls of work blogs

BBC NEWS Technology Looming pitfalls of work blogs



Well, this is interesting and will no doubt affect bloggers' musings regarding their employers and colleagues. I have been tempted to preserve my anonymity, but I decided to post my photo and that's kind of blown it I guess. I suppose it doesn't matter what you say about your work colleagues in a blog if you also say it to their faces!



I don't understand how this particular bloke was found out because, at least so far, it's difficult to find a blog unless you're told about one specifically.



If anything, I think employers should be made to be wary of the fact that they will be slagged off unless they treat their workers with respect and fairness, and to act accordingly so that people don't feel compelled to comment about them in blogs.



Of course, certain organisations don't need their employees to write web logs for adverse publicity because most are perfectly capable of creating enough on their own.

A photo of me

Well, this is me afterall. I was trying to figure out how to upload this pic to the bloggerspot webhost so I could use the URL for posting my photo in my profile, but I just can't fathom it out at all. So this will have to do. This is my passport photo that was taken in June 2004. It's just about the best photo that's been taken of me for some time; this is mainly because I've not had a haircut for ages and I now look like a tatty-haired mentalist. I decided to delete it after getting a bit twitchy.

Quite confused

I don't know, you think you're being clever by uploading a picture and you just end up getting in a pickle.



Anyway, if there happens to be a photo on this page, then yes, that's me. If there isn't a pic, then I don't suppose anybody is missing out. I tried to use that Picasa hello thing and I thought it was a webhost whatsit, but it automatically uploaded to the blog and it's all GONE WRONG! And I tried to remove it and it's still there, only it isn't.



But not to worry, there are more important things to worry about, like my finances and looking for a job where I won't be getting shafted - and the wellbeing of my family and friends (and the cats); these things are more important to me than anything else.



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Wind

It's been extremely windy here in the UK for the past day or so and it's starting to become rather tiresome. Not only do you find yourself being kept awake by the gale force winds, but there's also the racket caused by idiot neighbours' wind chimes. Wind chimes, I ask you! How bloody common can people get? Well, my neighbours are complete scumbags so I suppose it's the least I expect from them. Horrible, nasty people.



I have a very good friend who's a vicar and her local cemetary is high on a hill overlooking the town. She took me there once in the summer - it's a beautiful, peaceful place, but I was disappointed at the selfishness of certain families who'd adorned the graves of their loved ones with wind chimes. To me, this displayed a lack of consideration of other visitors' feelings; if I was to visit the grave of a friend or relative, I wouldn't want to be disturbed by the racket caused by those bloody things. People are just stupid and inconsiderate. Thank goodness for cremation, that's all I can say.





Romagna Mia

My dad's Italian and he moved to the Emila Romagna region from Lucania when he was a boy. I made him a CD of Romagnole music for Christmas and he's listening to it now, singing along to Romagna Mia. It's quite nice to know that the least expensive gift I gave this Christmas has brought so much pleasure to a bloke who's notoriously impossible to buy for.



I'm holding back on the rest of the collection that's waiting to be burned onto CD though: there's only so much Italian folk music that a girl can take!

Friday

Well, I made it through the first week back after Christmas and now it's Friday teatime.



It's odd that I seem to spend all week waiting for this particular moment and when it arrives, I find myself wondering what I'll be doing with my weekend. I suppose it's just nice to have the time to myself to do with as I see fit and if this means a couple of lie-ins and dossing around the house, then that's fine with me.



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It's now nearly bedtime and I thought I'd add a bit to this rather than starting a new post. The subject will be:



The Asian tsunami disaster

Well, it's been nearly a fortnight since the earthquake that led to tsunamis that caused such mass destruction in Asia and it's still as shocking as when the true horrors began to unfold in the immediate aftermath of the events on Boxing Day. The reports and photographs of the affected areas can only convey a fraction of the total devastation that has hit the area and it's difficult to imagine what it's really like there. It looks like a huge nuclear bomb has gone off near Sumatra and it's wiped out everything in its path. Amazing. Some of the before and after satellite images are pretty shocking.



It's difficult to know what else to put about these events because this is something that people of this generation will always remember without having to write about it in some daft blog that might be forgotten about in a couple of months. It just seems fitting to make some sort of note about it. I think that, apart from obvious shock, horror and sympathy for those affected, some of my main thoughts are strangely positive. It's good to see how the (people in the) rest of world has rallied to raise funds to try to help the stricken areas and the suspension of debt repayments by the affected countries is only right. But the enormity of the destruction puts into perspective the weakness of any supposed terrorist threat that our governments are trying to make us increasingly paranoid about. If those affected by the tsunami can recover and rebuild, and as a part of that, other nations work together for the good of those people, then surely we can all withstand any piddling attack by a bunch of bully-boy nutters. In fact, any atrocity conducted by terrorists must surely pale into insignificance in comparison and we must remember that people will always bounce back because they can't kill us all.



That's about it for Friday - a bit of a serious one to end the week on, but it's better than going on about hairdos or periods.

I need to rest now; my body needs time to recover from my week of torture at work and my mind needs time to prepare for a visit to Fat Fighters - I'm afraid I succumbed to chips, chocolate and salty snacks today (well, there's a load still hanging around after Christmas!).

Christmas cakesniffing

I've just finished the last piece of my Christmas cake, it was very nice. This was the first year that I'd ever made a Christmas cake - or any cake for that matter - and I ended up making two. I guess it's fitting that the final piece of cake is finished on 6th night. It's a symbolic end to the festive period along with the putting away of the decs (and associated pulled back as I try to shift heavy furniture to gain access to the loft).



Of course the end of the festivities also signals the need to get my lardy arse back to Fat Fighters in an attempt to shed the flab that appeared out of nowhere over the past couple of weeks. When I say "appeared out of nowhere", I actually mean it appeared from: 2 Christmas dinners; Christmas pud; panettone and other Christmas cake; kilos of salty snacks; pounds of chocolates and about 40 sausages of varying flavours that were knocking about (albeit briefly) at the Boxing Day running buffet. Not to mention the general overeating associated with December - all done with the "It's Christmas" justification - and general lethargy that comes from mid-winter.



I actually went to the gym the other night and it almost killed me; I only managed 2.5km running (that's about a mile and a half). Awful.



These weblogs are a bit weird because you never know how much to information to inflict on an unsuspecting (and probably non-existent) audience. Then again, I hope I'm protected by near anonymity and, amongst those who know me, only people I choose to tell will get to know about this. I can't figure out why it doesn't get a hit when I do a Google search for it though. It's probably for the best...

Aldi bargains

I have my own office here at work, but on the corridor there are a couple more "multi-user" offices: the one opposite my own is occupied by the most insane woman I've ever met (I'll call her "Carmelita" to keep in with the cakesniffer theme*) and her poor, long-suffering colleague; the other office has 4 occupants who seem to talk endlessly about the latest bargains at Aldi or Matalan, or kids, or general crap.



I seem to spend my time here being tortured mentally by these people - and a lot of the time they ignore me, which is pleasant of them. Better that than being spoken to in a patronising manner. I'm 34, I've got a PhD, I've seen and done a fair few things in my time, but I'm often spoken to as if I'm retarded. I guess it's just a reflection of their own lives and the things that are important to them. I suppose it's harmless and they're all decent, nice people, but we don't have much in common.



There'll be more tales to tell of my adventures here - I've got plenty archived and no doubt each day will provide more - but I'll leave things for now because I need to go out to the local shops to get warm: it's not particularly cold here today, but it's not that warm either and Carmelita has just opened the window in her office and it's drawing the heat out of mine. I'm surprised to find that she hasn't turned my radiator off to tell you the truth.



Bonkers. They're all mad!



*I'm tempted to use character names from the Unfortunate Events books as pseudenyms for all my colleagues - keep reading.

Here we go then

This is just a bit of a mess while I get started. I'm obviously not too sure what I'm doing at the moment, but I'll get there in the end... I hope.



Are these blogs copyrighted I wonder? What if somebody puts something in a blog and it's a fantastic idea for a book or something, do they get credit if somebody else picks up on it?



Anyway, I'm actually at work at the moment and I've just been playing text tennis with my friend who's still off work after the Christmas break. She doesn't want to go back and I'm not too keen about being here and we've been thinking of things that we can do with our lives. She mentioned starting a business, but I haven't got the skills, motivation or money for that sort of venture. However, I've always been told that I write quite well and that I should write a book. Most of what I write is actually just cut and paste stuff from official documents, but I seem to get away with it.



That'll do for a start I think. I just want to see what this looks like before I do something else.