Five things

Things that have flittered through the cobwebs of my mind in the last few days

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1: I have a play to do.

A play I feel totally unprepared and under rehearsed for. When on stage, I feel like I'm really acting. That sound big headed and wrong, let me explain. I feel like there's no naturalness to my character. It all feels quite shallow in meaning. Like I'm just reading the lines from a book. I'm trying my hardest but I just look back over my last scene and think to myself 'That was obvious acting, and, even more worrying, not very good obvious acting.

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2: My basic academic skills have failed me big time.

Standing at the till point, the transaction comes to £4.50. The customer gives me a £10 note and a 50 pence piece. I press the £4.50 button then can't for the life of me work out how much change to give the customer back. The till display is saying no change due to wrong button pressing and I'm left staring into my till drawer thinking 'so 10 take away fifty is nine fifty. plus four pound fifty is twenty seven divided by pi is...'

It's not difficult woman! Seriously. To make matters worse, I look to the customer and say (and I quote) 'Sorry, my mathematical skills are badder than I thought.' Badder? That's not even a word! Go back to school dipshit!

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3: My arm muscles are starting to look like they could do some damage.

My new job demands more heavy lifting than my last job. In Gunwharf, I had about 9 men that could carry a box for me if i promised them tea. Now, I have no one so it's down to 5 foot 2 me to lug crates of notebook down a flight of stairs. Because of that, my arms are starting to muscle up a bit. Now, I must confess, it's nothing compared to the Fabulous Calves Of Finch™ but I'm quite proud of them. 

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4: The sun is shining

This makes me smile. Enough Said

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5: He comes home on Tuesday. This is a very Very VERY good thing.  

A Year

In roughly two weeks time, I'll never (touch wood) have to live at opposite sides of the country from McBride again. Never have to wake up and wonder what he was up to, if it was raining where he was, if the sky was the same colour.

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Because in a couple of weeks, I'll be able to just roll over and see him, frowning in his sleep.

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A year has past. Where the flip did it go? OK so it's not been a whole year but near as damn. I've been reading back over past posts and looking back with a smile. That feeling in the pit of my tummy when I got on that train back in September. That feeling of total insecurity, longing, loneliness. There was a fair sized chunk of me that got left behind on that platform. And another fair sized chunk that was frightened about the year to come. Frightened of almost everything. Being alone, Him finding someone else, Him realising I wasn't all that I was cracked up to be. Terrified of just drifting through the year, never really knowing where or who I was. I was terrified of having to stand on my own two feet with no arm at my side to grab onto when it got slippery.

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And now I'm here, typing about the fact that I won't have to do it again. A year has just flown by and I've grown in so many way (except physically). I'm a manager. I can drive (almost) I feel like I've grown up. I know now I can stand on my own two. and I can stick out my chest and say "Well bloody go me! Aren't I awesome?" (what's also good is the fact I remained modest throughout)

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Then I think back to all the times I've had to say goodbye to him. Airports, Bus Stations, Train Platforms. Too many times, I was so caught up thinking about the next goodbye that I took for granted that magic moment when we said hello. So the last time he came home (about a month ago) I made sure that all I thought about was that moment.

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Now it gets soppy.

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It's when his hands touch either side of you face and he holds it like a glass flower.

Its when he smiles that little smile that only you seem to see.

It's when he strokes the hair off your face and says "Hey you"

It's when he kisses you and your legs go fizzy

It's when he looks at your tear streaked face and whispers "Don't cry beautiful"

It's when he holds your hand and you remember how much you missed it, but at the same time, it feels like it's been there the whole time.

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Wow, I should write poetry.

The next post will be less gag inducing

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Promise

England's Bid

A few people I'd like to have a word with.

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Mr Capello

You're mind games with the team have NOT worked. Leaving it until two hours before the game to tell which players are starting is NOT a good tac tic. The players will not respect you, they will not like you. Neither will the fans.

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Mr Rooney

It is not your god forsaken right to wear that shirt. It is an honour and a privilege. Don't prance around like a fairy and then cry when the fans boo you. You have not made a single impact in what we laughingly call and attempt at the world cup. Don't pretend you are god. You are not!

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Mr Official

The ball was sodding in. there is no way in hell it was out. Technology is there for a reason. Use it!

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Mr England Fan

You spent £1000 pound to get across the world. Hotels, merchandise, tickets for the game, kit, sunscreen, whatever. It was all bought in the hope that we would win. I'm sorry the team we all support is so poor.

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For 4 years we have waited. For 4 years we have hoped for that second star. And once again, 11 overpaid, underachieving morons have let us down.

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And yet, in 4 years time, we'll all be there again, Thinking about 'what could be'.

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I'll be in Scotland by then, Wishing we'd qualified.

Stupid Moment

A short post but a post I feel I need to share.

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I've been interviewing possible staff members all day today. All applicants were sweet, charming girls and I feel a little bad that I can't hire them all.

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That's not the point

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The point is this.

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The first question in the interview is 'tell me about yourself.' The usual answers always pop up, sociable, friendly, enjoys films etc. But one girl said "I'm a twin"

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The words fall out. I can feel them falling from my tongue but I can't stop them. The second I say it, the little voice in my had goes 'tit'

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'Oh a twin, that's cool, Siamese?'

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See, tit!

Giving Blood (Or Not)

Two posts in one day. Lucky you.

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So, it's been four months since I last handed over (via my left arm vein) a big bag of O positive. So after work today, Steffi and I head over to the local community centre to partake in a lovely blood giving type party. Well, that was the plan.

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We arrive, have the compulsory glass of water and sit down before each being taken being a blue screen and asked out date of birth, if we've taken asperin in the last 7 days and if we've ever had sex with someone who injects themselves with blueberry juice whilst driving a heavy goods vehecle. All everyday questions.

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Then the mini needle comes out. They prick the end of your finger and drop the blood into a small test tube full of blue liduid. Only my finger won't bleed. My poor circulation has once again come up trumps. the poor nurse is squeezing my finger so tight that hers are turning blue. We finally get enough claret and she plops (strange word that) it into the tube. It's supposed to sink, mine does not. Fab!

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So it's onto the next table to have a blood test. A slightly bigger needle comes out to play and another lovely nurse takes a bit more blood. Then puts in in a machine before shaking her head and sighing.

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"OK, so your iron levels are not quite up at where they need to be. We need them to be at least 125."

"And mine is?"

"111"

"Oh, Bloody hell." (No pun intended)

" Yeah so you can't give today I'm afraid, you'll have to give it a year before you can donate again"

Bollocks!

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So, instead of getting myself prepared to give blood, I take the 'Iron Levels Down?' leaflet and sit nxt to Steffi (who also had to have an iron test but passed.)

She is mental and has to have a local anaesthetic to be able to give blood. A needle to stop the needle hurting, yeah that's brainy! But she's soon given her bag and is sitting up ready to head over to the food table to have a glass of squash and a penguin.

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Then she goes grey.

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She's quickly ushered back onto the bed and her feet are placed on a big pillow. Bloodyhell (there it is again) talk about drama queen. She's shaking like shaky thing and is a grey as a grey thing. I think it's time to call Gary. It's about ten minutes before she back sitting up again, swinger her legs over the side of the bed like a small child. Apparently she's desperate for the loo. All that water beforehand has made it's way through. So slowly, hand in hand. The two of us, the one who couldn't and the one who did but then went crazy, hobble to the loos.

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"Do you mind if I blog about this? I ask

"Just don't take my picture and put it on facebook. If you hear a thud from the cubicle, I've gone again, climb over and get me."

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Loves My Steffi

Mondays

So it's Monday. Mondays are always so bloody hectic I almost wish they were at the end of the working week so I can relax afterwards.

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Take today for example.

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Get into work at half eight. (after sitting on a bus full of students who think they're rock stars when in fact all they can play on the guitar is the intro to 'Stairway to Heaven') and sign in. Put my bag in my locker (turn off phone to avoid rubbish iPhone battery running out) Pick up post and sigh at yet more CV's that i didn't ask for. Over to my shop.

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Sign into the till, check till float and grab paperwork. Take paperwork up to first floor and get Saturdays taking from the blue folder in the canteen. Work out how we did against target and take all paper work up to top floor.

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wait whilst another staff member uses the only computer. Then sign on and fill out Monday Morning Feedback. (a long process full of targets, percentages and equations. never the best thing so early on a Monday.

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During this time, I also check emails. Plead vie email, apologise via email, beg via email and so on. before printing off any thing 'important' and photocopying anything necessary.

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Then I head back down to the ground floor before taking a left into my stockroom (which is down yet another flight of stairs) I check for anything I may need (paperwork wise) during the day and then head to dispatch to make sure my pick up was indeed picked up.

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Then it's back over to my till to count stamps and see what today's target is. Then look around the shop for anything that

a: links to any of the 'important' paperwork, things to be taken off etc

b: Is untidy and needs to be put right

c: needs to be replenished with stock.

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After establishing point C, it's back down to the stockroom to get said stock. Then it's back up to the shop. And it's still only 9 o'clock.

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It's going to be a long day!

I'M ON THE TRAIN

Attention please, this is a platform alteration. The 18:45 train to Portsmouth Harbour is now arriving on platform 5.
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By the time I've heard this message, I was about ready to strangle myself with my own ear phones. This really wasn't my day. It had started at 5:45 this morning and I still had to get from Guildford, then from Portsmouth and Southsea station, then (and this is the worst bit) from the bus stop at the end of the road!

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Area Meeting.

All Managers To Attend.

GW Functions and Meeting Rooms

Swindon.

9:45 for a 10:00 start

Lunch Included.

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I'll be honest, the journey up was ok. Apart from the fact I sat in bubble gum on th station at Winchester (change one of two on the way). I arrived in good time and got myself a hot chocolate. Other managers turned up and this is where the day started to go in a downwards direction. We had to sit around a large tabe with everone in a big leather apprentice style chair. Well, all except whoever got the chait in the corner. a chair with an 'office world' quality, no arms and a lot lower than the others. I didn't know this before we entered the room and chose to go to the bathroom. Only joining the room to find that I was the one in the baby seat. Looking like the small child at the end of the christmas table, with a plastic plate and non sharp cutlery.

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Free water, thats nice, free biscuits, thats even better. So I sit in my corner, taking notes and nibbling on custard creams. Before the first hour is up, I've drunk two bottles of water. And now I need the loo. And I can't get out. Serious crossings of legs and holding stomach in the hope I don't 'leak'.

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Toilet time, lunch time. nom nom nom. All very normal and sofisticated. Nice little sandwiches, nice plate of fruit, nice glasses of juice, niceness.

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The remainder of the meetinggoes just a smoothly and by five, I'm back out and waiting for a train to take me to Reading, then Guildford, then home. Train one is ok. I sit with the Southampton store manager and the time travels quickly. Once in Reading, we say our goodbyes and I pelt over to platform 2.

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This train is not so nice. On the inside, it looks more like a bus. Never mind I'll just sit here infront of this guy on his DS, he won't bother me, he seems....Whats that smell? Bacon? yes, said guy behind me is suddenly munching on a bacon sandwich and...chewing with his mouth wide open. Masticating like a frigging cow. Nice noise! time for headphones. So I stop heaing chompchompchomp and start hearing Mumford and sons...And the guy starts kicking the back of my chair. For Christ's Sake! You're an adult. keep your sodding feet still. Put them on the floor and...

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Oh great. He's on the phone. Loudly and in Polish, or French, or Japanese. I don't care what language it was, it was loud and...bloody well loud. Shut up, shut up SHUT UP. The kicking by now is almost like a heart beat. The voice is naisle and annoying and the train carraige still smells of dead smoked pig. Yummy!

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Guildford. Thank god. I step onto the platform and look around. only 5 minutes until my train. let's just hope there's no platform alterations.