I started a new job today and, hallalujah, they all have a sense of humour...hurrah!!! Shame it's only a five week temp job, but five weeks is better than none. I realised I was on to a good thing when the lady who's helping to show me the ropes bought me a packet of Quavers. I'm on a diet at the moment and as I smelt a roast dinner lunch coming from the other room as I tucked into my shitarse salad sandwich...I could've wept. So, as you can imagine, when this lovely wonderful woman bought me in a packet of Quavers...after I'd commented earlier that I really fancied a bag of Quavers, I could literally have leapt across the desk and kissed her quite passionately. But I decided to myself that this was an action probably best left to wait until at least my 4th or 5th day.
I had my interview yesterday and I knew as soon as we started chatting that I would probably enjoy working there. It's always nice to meet like-minded people (who buy you packets of Quavers) who don't live by the rule that work shouldn't be fun. I had a good, productive day today and picked up things fairly quick, whilst at the same time having a chat with my colleagues and joining in with their larking about. I wish all employers could see that if you enjoy your job it makes you more productive.
On a slightly disappointing, and frustrating, note; I was all prepared to march down (well, drive down to be exact, it's less physically demanding...) to Lidl and make the move on "you know who". It wasn't to be. Again. I got a call yesterday afternoon asking if I could start work today. Even I wouldn't be stupid enough to miss a days pay just to give my number (but probably wuss out) to a man! I'm going down there Saturday with a mate to buy some pizza (a smokescreen of course, the pizza we want is actually in Tesco...) and hope that he's working. All this is sooooo much effort that, if I ever manage to give him my number and if he ever actually calls, I'm half tempted to make sure he pays for everything for at least a month just to make up for all the money I've needlessly spent in Lidl....!
Wednesday 29 February 2012
Tuesday 28 February 2012
Keep Calm and Carry On
Disaster has struck in the form of microwave-breakage. I mean this is ridiculous, how is one expected to make a decent latte in their own home without the assistance of hot milk?? If I were a student I'd be starving right now!
I'm reading the second book following on from Jennifer Worth's Call the Midwife and they've both really made me think - I hate it when I have to think. But they're fascinating to read - although I would strongly suggest to anybody with a weak stomach to get somebody to have a quick read through first and veto certain things. Occassionally it goes into very gory detail regarding the tenements in London and how, for quite some time before they were demolished, hundreds and hundreds of people in the tenements were all going down to use the same few toilets in the yard outside. I'm sure I don't need to elaborate here. Plus there's a particular heavy section where she talks about some of the prostitutes on Cable Street and what they had to endure. The story about the young prostitute who became pregnant was particularly harrowing; abortions were a back-street botch job and death tolls were high.
The thing which struck me most reading these books was how families in post-war London used to cope with everyday problems, which a lot of us nowadays make a big deal of. Women were popping babies out nineteen to the dozen! Mainly because the men refused to wear any kind of protection. But it seemed to be the norm for eveybody to have a family of 3+ children and some of the families spoke of in this book were taking care of up to 10 children. A lot of these Cockney families had virtually no money and lived in squalid conditions, but they just got on with it. The theme seems to have been "Don't let the bastards get you down". Health & Safety laws were virtually non-existant and a lot of mothers didn't have time for sterilising bottles. They certainly didn't have the facilities to wash the baby clothes and blankets on a 60 degree wash to "kill bacteria". Homes didn't have the fancy washing machines we have now so it was a case of "bung the kettle on" and boil the laundry.
Whilst begging the microwave to "pleeeeeease work...pleeeeeeeease".......I suddenly develop a huge respect for those people who lived in slums and had to "Make do and Mend". If I had lived through the 40's and 50's I'd be grateful for everything. We take so much for granted nowadays and, as much as it doesn't make my need for hot milk grow any less desperate, it certainly makes me wonder if maybe I should just chill out a bit more and appreciate he fact that compared to 50 years ago our lives are very much priviledged!
Maybe I'll just stick to PG Tips.
I'm reading the second book following on from Jennifer Worth's Call the Midwife and they've both really made me think - I hate it when I have to think. But they're fascinating to read - although I would strongly suggest to anybody with a weak stomach to get somebody to have a quick read through first and veto certain things. Occassionally it goes into very gory detail regarding the tenements in London and how, for quite some time before they were demolished, hundreds and hundreds of people in the tenements were all going down to use the same few toilets in the yard outside. I'm sure I don't need to elaborate here. Plus there's a particular heavy section where she talks about some of the prostitutes on Cable Street and what they had to endure. The story about the young prostitute who became pregnant was particularly harrowing; abortions were a back-street botch job and death tolls were high.
The thing which struck me most reading these books was how families in post-war London used to cope with everyday problems, which a lot of us nowadays make a big deal of. Women were popping babies out nineteen to the dozen! Mainly because the men refused to wear any kind of protection. But it seemed to be the norm for eveybody to have a family of 3+ children and some of the families spoke of in this book were taking care of up to 10 children. A lot of these Cockney families had virtually no money and lived in squalid conditions, but they just got on with it. The theme seems to have been "Don't let the bastards get you down". Health & Safety laws were virtually non-existant and a lot of mothers didn't have time for sterilising bottles. They certainly didn't have the facilities to wash the baby clothes and blankets on a 60 degree wash to "kill bacteria". Homes didn't have the fancy washing machines we have now so it was a case of "bung the kettle on" and boil the laundry.
Whilst begging the microwave to "pleeeeeease work...pleeeeeeeease".......I suddenly develop a huge respect for those people who lived in slums and had to "Make do and Mend". If I had lived through the 40's and 50's I'd be grateful for everything. We take so much for granted nowadays and, as much as it doesn't make my need for hot milk grow any less desperate, it certainly makes me wonder if maybe I should just chill out a bit more and appreciate he fact that compared to 50 years ago our lives are very much priviledged!
Maybe I'll just stick to PG Tips.
Monday 27 February 2012
Sweet Child O'Mine
My favourite subject of conversation came up yesterday: children. It's hard to get sarcasm across in a blog but believe me, I'm being sarcastic.
I was in a charity shop (don't tell anyone) and it was quite nice and peaceful. I was browsing happily through the tacky china section when a scruffy woman and an equally scruffy partner walked in with two little brats, er boys. The boys started running around the shop, they must've been around 8 or 9 years old, and upon finding the toy section one of them screamed out "MUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUM I'VE FOUND THE TOYS"! I thought maybe his mother was deaf, but I realised he was just being annoying. "DON'T BLOODY WELL TOUCH ANYTHING UNTIL I GET THERE" she screeched as she struggled to get her skanky arse across the shop. I carried on browsing into the paperback section. Ooo...a Michael J Fox autobiography......
The two brats carried on yelling at each other and their father knelt down to scramble through the toy box with them. Then, quite loudly, the mother grabbed one of the boys and said to him; "Stop farting, I already told you about that in the other shop"! I'm not quite sure if she said it loudly on purpose in the hope that the people around them would find it amusing, but I can assure you - nobody laughed. I found myself getting the urge to whack her round the head with the "Historic Castles of Britain" book I had in my hand...but I resisted. One of the boys then found a plastic helicopter and demanded his father buy it for him. "You're not having it" the father said, "You've had lots of things today, you're not having no more" (fantastic English). This caused the brat to throw himself down on the floor and go into a mega screaming fit. I'd had enough. I grabbed my second-hand shit and rushed to the till. As I was paying I over-heard the father say "Alright, alright, you can have it, calm down. Pick it up and I'll go pay for it". Some parents are so stupid.
So I was having this converstion yesterday and was asked; "So are you thinking about children"?
"In what way"? I asked, knowing full well what she meant.
"Well, when are you planning on having them"
I don't even have a boyfriend and she's selling me down the river with 2.4 children already. I gave the same answer I always give when people ask me this question;
"Never. I don't really appreciate children".
This is usually followed by a stunned silence and a look that would make you think I'd just answered their question with "Never, children are little balls of shit and piss and I'd spit on every one of them if I had the chance".
"Oh" she said. "Never? Really? Oh well I'm sure you'll change your mind".
If Jesus Christ appeared before me and told me I could be responsible for making world-peace last forever because I was going to give birth to the next miracle...I'd still tell him to fuck off and bug someone else. If I were among the last 10 people alive on this earth and having children would re-establish the human race...I'd still say I'm happier on my own anyway, after all; less people = shorter queues at McDonalds.
Ignorant people say that a problem child is the result of bad parenting. This is not always true. I know several people who were complete bastards when they were young and they had fantastic parents. Sometimes you can do everything right and they still turn out wrong. Several things are to blame for this; hanging out with the wrong crowd, being naturally naive and impressionable, and upset brain chemicals. Don't try to tell me that watching slasher movies and playing blood'n'guts video games turns a kid into a psycho killer...I watched many slashers growing up and Resident Evil and Doom were my favourite video games; I never once had the urge to rip my brother's head off. Not in the literal sense anyway. It's all down to brain chemicals.
One of the reasons I don't want kids is because I don't want to risk giving birth to the next Anti-Christ. Another reason, is that I like to spend money on myself. I like to spend money on others when I choose to do so - not because I have to. I also like the freedom of being able to go wherever I want and do whatever I want to do. If I wake up one day and think "I'm gonna hop on train and go up the West End", I don't want the hassle of having to try and find a baby sitter...or risk not being able to go at all if I can't find one. My stomach can't handle other people's puke, shit, piss...or screaming fits! On another note; I have zero tolerance and absolutely zero patience. I am sick to high heaven of people with children asking me "Soooooo when are you thinking about babies"?? Trust me, I will never change my mind, so please don't patronise me.
So bear this in mind the next time you ask a single girl if she's thinking about babies soon; If she looks bright and happy, her clothes look reasonably expensive, she doesn't smell of sick, and she tells you she's just off to have a nice quiet read of her book over a mug of Starbucks latte, the answer is no....she's not.
I was in a charity shop (don't tell anyone) and it was quite nice and peaceful. I was browsing happily through the tacky china section when a scruffy woman and an equally scruffy partner walked in with two little brats, er boys. The boys started running around the shop, they must've been around 8 or 9 years old, and upon finding the toy section one of them screamed out "MUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUM I'VE FOUND THE TOYS"! I thought maybe his mother was deaf, but I realised he was just being annoying. "DON'T BLOODY WELL TOUCH ANYTHING UNTIL I GET THERE" she screeched as she struggled to get her skanky arse across the shop. I carried on browsing into the paperback section. Ooo...a Michael J Fox autobiography......
The two brats carried on yelling at each other and their father knelt down to scramble through the toy box with them. Then, quite loudly, the mother grabbed one of the boys and said to him; "Stop farting, I already told you about that in the other shop"! I'm not quite sure if she said it loudly on purpose in the hope that the people around them would find it amusing, but I can assure you - nobody laughed. I found myself getting the urge to whack her round the head with the "Historic Castles of Britain" book I had in my hand...but I resisted. One of the boys then found a plastic helicopter and demanded his father buy it for him. "You're not having it" the father said, "You've had lots of things today, you're not having no more" (fantastic English). This caused the brat to throw himself down on the floor and go into a mega screaming fit. I'd had enough. I grabbed my second-hand shit and rushed to the till. As I was paying I over-heard the father say "Alright, alright, you can have it, calm down. Pick it up and I'll go pay for it". Some parents are so stupid.
So I was having this converstion yesterday and was asked; "So are you thinking about children"?
"In what way"? I asked, knowing full well what she meant.
"Well, when are you planning on having them"
I don't even have a boyfriend and she's selling me down the river with 2.4 children already. I gave the same answer I always give when people ask me this question;
"Never. I don't really appreciate children".
This is usually followed by a stunned silence and a look that would make you think I'd just answered their question with "Never, children are little balls of shit and piss and I'd spit on every one of them if I had the chance".
"Oh" she said. "Never? Really? Oh well I'm sure you'll change your mind".
If Jesus Christ appeared before me and told me I could be responsible for making world-peace last forever because I was going to give birth to the next miracle...I'd still tell him to fuck off and bug someone else. If I were among the last 10 people alive on this earth and having children would re-establish the human race...I'd still say I'm happier on my own anyway, after all; less people = shorter queues at McDonalds.
Ignorant people say that a problem child is the result of bad parenting. This is not always true. I know several people who were complete bastards when they were young and they had fantastic parents. Sometimes you can do everything right and they still turn out wrong. Several things are to blame for this; hanging out with the wrong crowd, being naturally naive and impressionable, and upset brain chemicals. Don't try to tell me that watching slasher movies and playing blood'n'guts video games turns a kid into a psycho killer...I watched many slashers growing up and Resident Evil and Doom were my favourite video games; I never once had the urge to rip my brother's head off. Not in the literal sense anyway. It's all down to brain chemicals.
One of the reasons I don't want kids is because I don't want to risk giving birth to the next Anti-Christ. Another reason, is that I like to spend money on myself. I like to spend money on others when I choose to do so - not because I have to. I also like the freedom of being able to go wherever I want and do whatever I want to do. If I wake up one day and think "I'm gonna hop on train and go up the West End", I don't want the hassle of having to try and find a baby sitter...or risk not being able to go at all if I can't find one. My stomach can't handle other people's puke, shit, piss...or screaming fits! On another note; I have zero tolerance and absolutely zero patience. I am sick to high heaven of people with children asking me "Soooooo when are you thinking about babies"?? Trust me, I will never change my mind, so please don't patronise me.
So bear this in mind the next time you ask a single girl if she's thinking about babies soon; If she looks bright and happy, her clothes look reasonably expensive, she doesn't smell of sick, and she tells you she's just off to have a nice quiet read of her book over a mug of Starbucks latte, the answer is no....she's not.
Sunday 26 February 2012
It's Now or Never. Looks like never....
I felt it was time to bite the bullet at Lidl....
My first stumble block; he wasn't there. Always a problem. So, deflated, I went to the next available till and sulked. Just as it was almost my turn, guess who appeared and opened up the next till....? Yep, you guessed it. Damn!!! Now it'd look weird if I suddenly picked up my stuff and changed tills, so I had to stay where I was. I kept glancing up at him and trying to think up how I could find an excuse to talk, ideas whirring around in my head. I could pick up a pear from the conveyor belt and throw it to him..."Whoops, sorry, I picked it up to make sure it was fresh and it slipped out of my hand". No. Wouldn't work. I'm pretty sure it'd be impossible to make it "slip" that far away. Then a group of young lads loaded up at his till. I definitely can't say anything now whilst they're there, I'd embarrass us both. If they hadn't had been there I could very well have just walked over to him and said my piece. As I walked past him my stomach flipped and I could feel my face burning up. Definitely can't speak to him now, I was wearing red jeans yesterday and it doesn't look very cool to have the same colour face as your jeans (although I do feel more comfortable when I'm colour coordinated).
So here I am, very aware of the fact that he's clocked me in Lidl at least 3 times already this week and if I go in again today I could be looking at a restraining order; never a good way to start a relationship. The good news however, is that I found out a friend of mine knows him and confirms that he is not married, nor is he a weirdo. Phew! I now have a cunning plan, involving my friend - and one last shop to Lidl. Hopefully. After all, you can only do with so many bags of caster sugar, flour, jars of jam, etc.....
My first stumble block; he wasn't there. Always a problem. So, deflated, I went to the next available till and sulked. Just as it was almost my turn, guess who appeared and opened up the next till....? Yep, you guessed it. Damn!!! Now it'd look weird if I suddenly picked up my stuff and changed tills, so I had to stay where I was. I kept glancing up at him and trying to think up how I could find an excuse to talk, ideas whirring around in my head. I could pick up a pear from the conveyor belt and throw it to him..."Whoops, sorry, I picked it up to make sure it was fresh and it slipped out of my hand". No. Wouldn't work. I'm pretty sure it'd be impossible to make it "slip" that far away. Then a group of young lads loaded up at his till. I definitely can't say anything now whilst they're there, I'd embarrass us both. If they hadn't had been there I could very well have just walked over to him and said my piece. As I walked past him my stomach flipped and I could feel my face burning up. Definitely can't speak to him now, I was wearing red jeans yesterday and it doesn't look very cool to have the same colour face as your jeans (although I do feel more comfortable when I'm colour coordinated).
So here I am, very aware of the fact that he's clocked me in Lidl at least 3 times already this week and if I go in again today I could be looking at a restraining order; never a good way to start a relationship. The good news however, is that I found out a friend of mine knows him and confirms that he is not married, nor is he a weirdo. Phew! I now have a cunning plan, involving my friend - and one last shop to Lidl. Hopefully. After all, you can only do with so many bags of caster sugar, flour, jars of jam, etc.....
Friday 24 February 2012
Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No it's...er....oh, hold on.....
Apologies to my fellow blogheads (that's what I'm officially calling you!) for my lack of postage yesterday. I had a bad attack of the dizzies, and no I don't mean Rascal. I figure when you look up and see the PC screen multiplying it's probably time to lie down. I felt a bit cheated really, I was completely sober.
So I was thinking about superpowers yesterday. Not in the political sense, but in the kinda X-Men, Superman sense. I bet when asked which power you could have, 8 out of 10 people would say invisibility; most of which will be men. You can just see their eyes glaze over as they imagine walking unchallenged into the ladies locker room, like the opening scene from Carrie. But probably with a bit less lady muff. The other 2 out of 10 would choose telepathy; definitely a woman's choice. Imagine being able to read your mans thoughts as you walk down the street, or sit on the beach, or whilst watching a Angelina Jolie film. I reckon that particular superpower would result in a large increase of divorces across the country.
The ability to fly would be amazing - I'd save a fortune on petrol and air fares. Being invisible would serve me no real purpose - I have too much of a conscience to rob or steal even if I had no chance of getting caught (yes I know I'm pathetic). Telepathy could have it's uses, as could the ability to control the weather.
But my superpower however, would be to have a database of witty one-liners and put downs in my head...and the ability to pick one out whenever the occasion calls for it. I'd leave the great Joan Rivers standing! (can she still stand un-aided...?). Think about it; how often have you been confronted by your wanky boss, headmaster, ex-boyfriend etc, and not been able to think of a single clever thing to say? What's worse is when you think of something absolutely hilarious and totally genuis to retort back with....10 minutes after the confrontation. Too late then. It'd be like a comedian starting to tell a joke and then going off for a drink and coming back later to tell the punchline. It's not big and it's not clever.
Oh the amount of times I've been put down and my minds gone blank, only to retort back with (in desperation) "yeah well it's not my problem you're a c*nt". Hmm, nice one Leigh, Bob Hope would be really proud. Or should I say...Bob Hope's writers would be proud! Yes I should take comfort in the fact that even the world's greatest comedians couldn't think of their own jokes and one-liners. Just look at that memorial concert for Diana, where Ricky Gervais had to use off-the-wall material for 10 minutes after a technical problem meant the next act was delayed. He was stuck. Absolutely useless. You could see the panic on his face and the situation was very uncomfortable to watch. But I bet he was kicking himself 10 minutes after he left the stage when he undoubtably thought of something hilarious to say about Simon Le Bons trousers.
To have this superpower would make you offically the funniest person on earth. Although, every great comedian says the secret is in the delivery. Ah. In that case...am I allowed two superpowers please...?
So I was thinking about superpowers yesterday. Not in the political sense, but in the kinda X-Men, Superman sense. I bet when asked which power you could have, 8 out of 10 people would say invisibility; most of which will be men. You can just see their eyes glaze over as they imagine walking unchallenged into the ladies locker room, like the opening scene from Carrie. But probably with a bit less lady muff. The other 2 out of 10 would choose telepathy; definitely a woman's choice. Imagine being able to read your mans thoughts as you walk down the street, or sit on the beach, or whilst watching a Angelina Jolie film. I reckon that particular superpower would result in a large increase of divorces across the country.
The ability to fly would be amazing - I'd save a fortune on petrol and air fares. Being invisible would serve me no real purpose - I have too much of a conscience to rob or steal even if I had no chance of getting caught (yes I know I'm pathetic). Telepathy could have it's uses, as could the ability to control the weather.
But my superpower however, would be to have a database of witty one-liners and put downs in my head...and the ability to pick one out whenever the occasion calls for it. I'd leave the great Joan Rivers standing! (can she still stand un-aided...?). Think about it; how often have you been confronted by your wanky boss, headmaster, ex-boyfriend etc, and not been able to think of a single clever thing to say? What's worse is when you think of something absolutely hilarious and totally genuis to retort back with....10 minutes after the confrontation. Too late then. It'd be like a comedian starting to tell a joke and then going off for a drink and coming back later to tell the punchline. It's not big and it's not clever.
Oh the amount of times I've been put down and my minds gone blank, only to retort back with (in desperation) "yeah well it's not my problem you're a c*nt". Hmm, nice one Leigh, Bob Hope would be really proud. Or should I say...Bob Hope's writers would be proud! Yes I should take comfort in the fact that even the world's greatest comedians couldn't think of their own jokes and one-liners. Just look at that memorial concert for Diana, where Ricky Gervais had to use off-the-wall material for 10 minutes after a technical problem meant the next act was delayed. He was stuck. Absolutely useless. You could see the panic on his face and the situation was very uncomfortable to watch. But I bet he was kicking himself 10 minutes after he left the stage when he undoubtably thought of something hilarious to say about Simon Le Bons trousers.
To have this superpower would make you offically the funniest person on earth. Although, every great comedian says the secret is in the delivery. Ah. In that case...am I allowed two superpowers please...?
Wednesday 22 February 2012
There's something fishy going on....
It's official. My life is boring.
I went on a little trip to Southwold with my parents today. Everybody seems to go on about Southwold like it's the best place in England. I can tell you this; unless you're 75 years old and retired, or an anorexic seagull, I'm pretty sure it's not the place for you. Apparently they have fish and chip shops, yet driving along the seafront and through the town (it shouldn't be allowed to call it a town, more like a village suitable if you're a Borrower) I didn't pick up the alluring smell of grease anywhere. There are no decent shops for youngsters, or even someone my age. If you're old and don't like children then you should move to Southwold, you'll love it. The place was abandoned. The locals all looked at us like we had no faces; strangers??? In our town??? I kept looking around me, fearing the sight of a giant man made of wicker.
I'm sure it's a bit different in the summer, but I still wouldn't recomend to it to anyone who likes to have fun.
On our way back we stopped at a fish warehouse to see what they had (yes I know. Fish. I was talking about bargains). I spotted a freezer which had a notice on it saying "Everything in this freezer = 99p". I peered inside and suddenly a little glow shone out from my eyes. Bags and bags of conger eel, tuna steaks, swordfish, prawns, whiting, tope and much more. Dated today but frozen solid so they'll keep for an age. Now you have to understand; I am addicted to shopping. Whilst out of work I have to stay in the house. I lock all the doors and hide my car keys. Some days the temptation to spend money is so great I have to pop down to Tesco and buy a magazine. Or a box of cereal. Anything at all, just to feed my addiction. I instantly feel a sense of relief once the item is purchased. I read Confessions of a Shopaholic last year and couldn't understand why it was filed under "comedy fiction" instead of "thriller".
So, whilst I have very very limited income at the moment, I'm unable to go clothes shopping at the weekend. Unable to even allow myself on eBay to find some bargains. I can't spend anything. So you can understand how this magical freezer of fishy treasures must have appealed to my addictive nature. TWO WHOLE PLAICE ON THE BONE!! 99P!!!! A PACKET OF 6 GREAT BIG CHUNKS OF CONGER EEL...99P!!! This is madness!!! I was actually excited! Or maybe it was just that Southwold was so shit boring it made practically everything else happening this afternoon to be like a trip to Disneyworld.
Either way, we're gonna be having fish medley pretty much every day this week......
I went on a little trip to Southwold with my parents today. Everybody seems to go on about Southwold like it's the best place in England. I can tell you this; unless you're 75 years old and retired, or an anorexic seagull, I'm pretty sure it's not the place for you. Apparently they have fish and chip shops, yet driving along the seafront and through the town (it shouldn't be allowed to call it a town, more like a village suitable if you're a Borrower) I didn't pick up the alluring smell of grease anywhere. There are no decent shops for youngsters, or even someone my age. If you're old and don't like children then you should move to Southwold, you'll love it. The place was abandoned. The locals all looked at us like we had no faces; strangers??? In our town??? I kept looking around me, fearing the sight of a giant man made of wicker.
I'm sure it's a bit different in the summer, but I still wouldn't recomend to it to anyone who likes to have fun.
On our way back we stopped at a fish warehouse to see what they had (yes I know. Fish. I was talking about bargains). I spotted a freezer which had a notice on it saying "Everything in this freezer = 99p". I peered inside and suddenly a little glow shone out from my eyes. Bags and bags of conger eel, tuna steaks, swordfish, prawns, whiting, tope and much more. Dated today but frozen solid so they'll keep for an age. Now you have to understand; I am addicted to shopping. Whilst out of work I have to stay in the house. I lock all the doors and hide my car keys. Some days the temptation to spend money is so great I have to pop down to Tesco and buy a magazine. Or a box of cereal. Anything at all, just to feed my addiction. I instantly feel a sense of relief once the item is purchased. I read Confessions of a Shopaholic last year and couldn't understand why it was filed under "comedy fiction" instead of "thriller".
So, whilst I have very very limited income at the moment, I'm unable to go clothes shopping at the weekend. Unable to even allow myself on eBay to find some bargains. I can't spend anything. So you can understand how this magical freezer of fishy treasures must have appealed to my addictive nature. TWO WHOLE PLAICE ON THE BONE!! 99P!!!! A PACKET OF 6 GREAT BIG CHUNKS OF CONGER EEL...99P!!! This is madness!!! I was actually excited! Or maybe it was just that Southwold was so shit boring it made practically everything else happening this afternoon to be like a trip to Disneyworld.
Either way, we're gonna be having fish medley pretty much every day this week......
Tuesday 21 February 2012
They call me The Wanderer, yeah The Wanderer...
I've been struggling to understand this countrys sudden surge of interest in Gypsies. Actually no, not Gypsies...pikeys. Because that is what they are. Dirty scummy pikeys leeching off the system.
Gypsy originates from the Greek word for Egyptian. It was widely believed that Romanies (Gypsies) originated in Egypt. You'll notice on job application forms that they are now recognised as an "ethnic group". Real Romani people don't like being described as Gyspies because they see it as derogatory. Judging from Channel 4's recent spate of Gypsy programmes, I can understand why. These people aren't real Romanies, they're Irish Travellers who pretend to the camera that they're true-hearted people, embodying the traditions of Romanies (most of which are pretty unsavoury anyway!), but to me they come across as the many pikeys I've met before; dirty, uneducated, tax-dodging, scumbags. Why does Channel 4 romantacise these cretins? Is Channel 4 run by a family of pikeys? It wouldn't surprise me. I once knew someone who spent thousands of pounds one year, just cleaning up all the shit from his back garden when pikeys hitched up their scummy caravans in the field at the back of his house. They would throw all their litter, and various stolen bits of crap they no longer wanted, over his fence. Did the police follow up on it? Did they hell.
I read an article in the Sunday papers about scrap metal and how the Government are going to declare it illegal for people to sell to scrap metal merchants. Their reasoning is that it will help them catch the people who are going around stealing metals to make money. The reporter who was undercover in this article said he spoke to an "Irish traveller" who declared the law would mean nothing to him and he would continue to steal and squander for as long as he lived. That pretty much says it all.
What really confuses me, is that these "Big fat gypsy weddings" are costing them (us) hundreds of thousands of pounds. Hey Mr Tax Man, how do you reckon these work-shy, tax-shy people made this possible? I reckon ole Harry Redknapp should go get some advice from these people, he could be on to a winner....
Gypsy originates from the Greek word for Egyptian. It was widely believed that Romanies (Gypsies) originated in Egypt. You'll notice on job application forms that they are now recognised as an "ethnic group". Real Romani people don't like being described as Gyspies because they see it as derogatory. Judging from Channel 4's recent spate of Gypsy programmes, I can understand why. These people aren't real Romanies, they're Irish Travellers who pretend to the camera that they're true-hearted people, embodying the traditions of Romanies (most of which are pretty unsavoury anyway!), but to me they come across as the many pikeys I've met before; dirty, uneducated, tax-dodging, scumbags. Why does Channel 4 romantacise these cretins? Is Channel 4 run by a family of pikeys? It wouldn't surprise me. I once knew someone who spent thousands of pounds one year, just cleaning up all the shit from his back garden when pikeys hitched up their scummy caravans in the field at the back of his house. They would throw all their litter, and various stolen bits of crap they no longer wanted, over his fence. Did the police follow up on it? Did they hell.
I read an article in the Sunday papers about scrap metal and how the Government are going to declare it illegal for people to sell to scrap metal merchants. Their reasoning is that it will help them catch the people who are going around stealing metals to make money. The reporter who was undercover in this article said he spoke to an "Irish traveller" who declared the law would mean nothing to him and he would continue to steal and squander for as long as he lived. That pretty much says it all.
What really confuses me, is that these "Big fat gypsy weddings" are costing them (us) hundreds of thousands of pounds. Hey Mr Tax Man, how do you reckon these work-shy, tax-shy people made this possible? I reckon ole Harry Redknapp should go get some advice from these people, he could be on to a winner....
Monday 20 February 2012
Grease was the word
I'm off to the theatre tonight (oh yes I'm very cultured me). Dreamboats & Petticoats is what I'll be seeing; not a hit with my mates but thankfully I have old fashioned taste in music like my Mum so I'm going with her. Obviously I don't get a chance to dress up very often so I already sorted my outfit a month in advance (maybe a slight exaggeration). I decided to watch Grease to get some hints on accessories. For those of you who've never heard of Dreamboats, it's a musical set around all the best hits of the 50's and, I think, early 60's. Whilst watching Grease it got me thinking about fashion in the 21st century.
Back in the fifties everybody dressed as proper ladies and proper gents should dress. The youngsters were Teddy Boys and had their perfectly coiffed hair, cool leather jackets and drainpipe jeans. But the slightly older generation were a tad classier. Even the lower class wore shirt and ties on Sundays. I don't recall ever seeing a photograph of my Grandad in a t-shirt. I visited the theatre a few years ago and was shocked to see what some people were wearing. In my mind, you go to the theatre - you wear your best. If you were going to see a comedian then obviously a ball gown would look a tad ridiculous, but at least wear something smart/casual. I've seen people turn up in shorts and t-shirts! My Grandad would turn in his grave if he saw what the youth of today has become.
Thankfully, fashions from the past always make a comeback. Just recently it was fashionable to bring back the forties era; sheer blouses and high waisted palazzo pants etc. Last Summer we were back rocking the prom dresses and capri pants. The sixties is always a popular fashion trend which keeps bouncing back to life. But instead of waiting for these trends to make a comeback, can't people just start dressing smart every day in general? People knock the 80's for it's crap fashion, but nowadays people can't get enough of puff-ball skirts, leggings, coloured tights and harem pants. It makes me wonder; what have the noughties got to offer fashionistas in the future? Mis-matching tracksuits? Leggings with everything? The classic T-shirt and jeans combo? I don't believe we'll ever make a fashion mark on future generations, all we do is keep bringing back older, tried and tested trends. Which, to be honest, is perfectly fine with me.
Back in the fifties everybody dressed as proper ladies and proper gents should dress. The youngsters were Teddy Boys and had their perfectly coiffed hair, cool leather jackets and drainpipe jeans. But the slightly older generation were a tad classier. Even the lower class wore shirt and ties on Sundays. I don't recall ever seeing a photograph of my Grandad in a t-shirt. I visited the theatre a few years ago and was shocked to see what some people were wearing. In my mind, you go to the theatre - you wear your best. If you were going to see a comedian then obviously a ball gown would look a tad ridiculous, but at least wear something smart/casual. I've seen people turn up in shorts and t-shirts! My Grandad would turn in his grave if he saw what the youth of today has become.
Thankfully, fashions from the past always make a comeback. Just recently it was fashionable to bring back the forties era; sheer blouses and high waisted palazzo pants etc. Last Summer we were back rocking the prom dresses and capri pants. The sixties is always a popular fashion trend which keeps bouncing back to life. But instead of waiting for these trends to make a comeback, can't people just start dressing smart every day in general? People knock the 80's for it's crap fashion, but nowadays people can't get enough of puff-ball skirts, leggings, coloured tights and harem pants. It makes me wonder; what have the noughties got to offer fashionistas in the future? Mis-matching tracksuits? Leggings with everything? The classic T-shirt and jeans combo? I don't believe we'll ever make a fashion mark on future generations, all we do is keep bringing back older, tried and tested trends. Which, to be honest, is perfectly fine with me.
Sunday 19 February 2012
Regrets? I've had a few....
I'm making a temporary career choice. I'm going to attempt to get myself signed to an acting agency. Whilst I'm "in between jobs" at the moment and have no personal ties, I think this would be the best opportunity to enter the great world of paranoia, stalking fans, bad critics and drugs & alcohol. Acting. My dream.
I don't really know exactly where to start except to just use the internet and blag my way in, just as I've always done before with previous jobs. I'm aware that, as a person with low self-confidence, I could be opening a can of worms, but I need to try it for myself and just see if it can work out. If I fail miserably and get rejected from every single audition I get thrown in to then so be it. At least when I'm old (hopefully I'll get that far) I can say I tried. There's nothing I would hate more than to finish my time in this world with a bag of regrets. I don't do regrets.
Speaking of which, I've been thinking about my predicament regarding Mr Lidl. I figure I should just go for it. What have I got to lose other than face? (and dignity, pride, etc....). But how do I go about it? Declare my lust to him between the bakery and fresh veg aisle? Go for the humourous approach and tell him he has the best value pork sausage I've ever seen? Or do I wait for him to finish work, like a crazy stalker, then accidently run into him with my trolley and use that to strike a conversation? No probably not that last option actually; I'm so clumsy I'd probably break both his legs. My, wouldn't that be a story for the grandkids...!
I think I'll go for the honest, straight-talking approach that I'm used to using.
"Hi, I'm Leigh"
"Oh hello"
"I don't usually do this but I've seen you around and you seem really nice. I wondered if I could give you my number? Providing you're not married of course"!
*cue over-the-top nervous laughter*
"Well Leigh, it's nice to meet you and I would love your number"
"Great! Well here it is, and maybe we could do something this weekend"?
"That would be brilliant Leigh. Saturday afternoon would probably be best as I have to drop my 6 kids off to their Mum in the morning, it's the only time she's allowed out of the asylum unattended. Then I have my daily appointment with my parole officer. After that I'm all yours"!
*bangs head on wall*
I don't really know exactly where to start except to just use the internet and blag my way in, just as I've always done before with previous jobs. I'm aware that, as a person with low self-confidence, I could be opening a can of worms, but I need to try it for myself and just see if it can work out. If I fail miserably and get rejected from every single audition I get thrown in to then so be it. At least when I'm old (hopefully I'll get that far) I can say I tried. There's nothing I would hate more than to finish my time in this world with a bag of regrets. I don't do regrets.
Speaking of which, I've been thinking about my predicament regarding Mr Lidl. I figure I should just go for it. What have I got to lose other than face? (and dignity, pride, etc....). But how do I go about it? Declare my lust to him between the bakery and fresh veg aisle? Go for the humourous approach and tell him he has the best value pork sausage I've ever seen? Or do I wait for him to finish work, like a crazy stalker, then accidently run into him with my trolley and use that to strike a conversation? No probably not that last option actually; I'm so clumsy I'd probably break both his legs. My, wouldn't that be a story for the grandkids...!
I think I'll go for the honest, straight-talking approach that I'm used to using.
"Hi, I'm Leigh"
"Oh hello"
"I don't usually do this but I've seen you around and you seem really nice. I wondered if I could give you my number? Providing you're not married of course"!
*cue over-the-top nervous laughter*
"Well Leigh, it's nice to meet you and I would love your number"
"Great! Well here it is, and maybe we could do something this weekend"?
"That would be brilliant Leigh. Saturday afternoon would probably be best as I have to drop my 6 kids off to their Mum in the morning, it's the only time she's allowed out of the asylum unattended. Then I have my daily appointment with my parole officer. After that I'm all yours"!
*bangs head on wall*
Saturday 18 February 2012
A class of ones own
I've got a beef stroganoff bubbling away so it's a quick blog this evening! (and just incase you were wondering about my slow-roasted pork from a previous post; it was amaaaazing)
I picked up a few things from Lidl today and whilst I was at the counter I clocked the cute guy I'd been checking out for a few weeks. I suddenly felt the urge to flirt, which I haven't done in years since my confidence slipped away and died a premature death. I found myself discreetly searching his hand for a wedding ring. When it was my turn he smiled at me (cute. Very cute) and scanned my bits (not in that way). After I'd paid he smiled again and wished me a nice weekend. "You too" I managed to squeek. And that was that. Damn my stupid lack of confidence!! Needless to say I'll be shopping for everything in Lidl from now on until I feel confident enough to make a move! Though quite what that move will be is beyond me. It's easier for dogs and children; all dogs do is sniff each others butts and that's that, mate for life. All kids do is punch each other on the arm and impress each other with how far they can spit. Somehow I don't think he'd appreciate me sniffing his ass and I definitely foresee a ban from Lidl if I gob on their floor.
Maybe if I just take the plunge and start dating again I'll think differently and get some confidence back. For all I know this could be pointless, my Lidl man could very well be a divorcee with 5 kids, no money, no ambition, no car and a complete emotional fuck-up.
Maybe I should stick to shopping in Tesco.....?
I picked up a few things from Lidl today and whilst I was at the counter I clocked the cute guy I'd been checking out for a few weeks. I suddenly felt the urge to flirt, which I haven't done in years since my confidence slipped away and died a premature death. I found myself discreetly searching his hand for a wedding ring. When it was my turn he smiled at me (cute. Very cute) and scanned my bits (not in that way). After I'd paid he smiled again and wished me a nice weekend. "You too" I managed to squeek. And that was that. Damn my stupid lack of confidence!! Needless to say I'll be shopping for everything in Lidl from now on until I feel confident enough to make a move! Though quite what that move will be is beyond me. It's easier for dogs and children; all dogs do is sniff each others butts and that's that, mate for life. All kids do is punch each other on the arm and impress each other with how far they can spit. Somehow I don't think he'd appreciate me sniffing his ass and I definitely foresee a ban from Lidl if I gob on their floor.
Maybe if I just take the plunge and start dating again I'll think differently and get some confidence back. For all I know this could be pointless, my Lidl man could very well be a divorcee with 5 kids, no money, no ambition, no car and a complete emotional fuck-up.
Maybe I should stick to shopping in Tesco.....?
Friday 17 February 2012
School's out....forever.
There are many things that get on my wick; being overly zealous about political correctness, Human Rights tossers standing up for convicted criminals, Health & Safety rules, Ben from Eastenders...the list is endless. I'm not going to get on my soapbox today because I haven't got the energy to write a blog as long as War & Peace, but there are a few things I'd like to address.
Do you remember the joy of winning conkers at school? Do you remember how fun British Bulldog was to play? Do you still have that large collection of Pogs you won off your mates in the playground that Summer? Well savour those thoughts, because your kids nowadays will never know how fun school used to be. Conkers is banned because kids "might" get hurt. Trees are being chopped down because a branch "might" fall on someones head. Pogs were eventually banned in school because it made the children competitive. Oh please. Do you think kids aren't already competing at who's got the better grade? Or who's got the better lunch? Or who's got the best pair of Adidas trainers? You don't have to ban Pogs to eradicate competitiveness and you certainly don't need to ban conkers to stop kids getting hurt. After all, did you ever get through school without seeing a good ole punch-up? The ironic thing is, I knew teachers who used to lob blackboard rubbers at pupils who dared to talk during class...and they were't rubbery rubbers, they were made of pure hardwood. Every day, young children are exposed to some kind of danger and you can't protect them by limiting their activities. Anyway, what's even more dangerous than conkers is putting school children in a science lab with working gas taps. Who hasn't ever sneakily switched on the gas taps during lessons and faked "gas poisoning" to get out of class...?
When you think about it, if we banned every single thing that was politically incorrect, or offensive in some way, children would never have any form of entertainment. Everybody has heard the playground song "Ring a Ring O'Roses" - the nursery rhyme from the late 1700's which is, allegedly, about the Black Plague of the 1600's. So it's ok to allow children to make light of this? "Hey, hundreds of thousands of people died from a terrible disease...let's sing and dance about it!!!"
We allow children to watch films like Snow White, which should really be re-classified as "video nasty"; A hitman is ordered to rip out the young girls heart and, after he fails in his task, she runs away and joins a group of perverted little old men who make her wash and clean for them. She's then poisoned to death by her own Stepmother.
Disney's Aladdin - showing kids that it's cool to steal.
Beauty & the Beast - having amourous feelings towards a hairy beast with tusks? Perverted.
The Ugly Duckling - teaching kids that they will never be popular if they're ugly.
Probably the worst offender in my eyes is Mary Poppins. Before showing the movie to your children can I at least ask you to take them on a trip to the East End to prove that No, Dick Van Dyke, that is not how we speak!
Let kids grow up properly. Let them continue those good ole playground traditions that will make their childhood last that little bit longer before they grow up and discover Class A drugs. When your children grow up and have kids of their own, what do you think they're going to say when their children ask them what games Mummy and Daddy played at school? "Ah yes, do you remember dear when the teachers used to roll us outside in our sun-proof bubbles and plonk us in the middle of the playground to just stare into space? God, those were the days."
Do you remember the joy of winning conkers at school? Do you remember how fun British Bulldog was to play? Do you still have that large collection of Pogs you won off your mates in the playground that Summer? Well savour those thoughts, because your kids nowadays will never know how fun school used to be. Conkers is banned because kids "might" get hurt. Trees are being chopped down because a branch "might" fall on someones head. Pogs were eventually banned in school because it made the children competitive. Oh please. Do you think kids aren't already competing at who's got the better grade? Or who's got the better lunch? Or who's got the best pair of Adidas trainers? You don't have to ban Pogs to eradicate competitiveness and you certainly don't need to ban conkers to stop kids getting hurt. After all, did you ever get through school without seeing a good ole punch-up? The ironic thing is, I knew teachers who used to lob blackboard rubbers at pupils who dared to talk during class...and they were't rubbery rubbers, they were made of pure hardwood. Every day, young children are exposed to some kind of danger and you can't protect them by limiting their activities. Anyway, what's even more dangerous than conkers is putting school children in a science lab with working gas taps. Who hasn't ever sneakily switched on the gas taps during lessons and faked "gas poisoning" to get out of class...?
When you think about it, if we banned every single thing that was politically incorrect, or offensive in some way, children would never have any form of entertainment. Everybody has heard the playground song "Ring a Ring O'Roses" - the nursery rhyme from the late 1700's which is, allegedly, about the Black Plague of the 1600's. So it's ok to allow children to make light of this? "Hey, hundreds of thousands of people died from a terrible disease...let's sing and dance about it!!!"
We allow children to watch films like Snow White, which should really be re-classified as "video nasty"; A hitman is ordered to rip out the young girls heart and, after he fails in his task, she runs away and joins a group of perverted little old men who make her wash and clean for them. She's then poisoned to death by her own Stepmother.
Disney's Aladdin - showing kids that it's cool to steal.
Beauty & the Beast - having amourous feelings towards a hairy beast with tusks? Perverted.
The Ugly Duckling - teaching kids that they will never be popular if they're ugly.
Probably the worst offender in my eyes is Mary Poppins. Before showing the movie to your children can I at least ask you to take them on a trip to the East End to prove that No, Dick Van Dyke, that is not how we speak!
Let kids grow up properly. Let them continue those good ole playground traditions that will make their childhood last that little bit longer before they grow up and discover Class A drugs. When your children grow up and have kids of their own, what do you think they're going to say when their children ask them what games Mummy and Daddy played at school? "Ah yes, do you remember dear when the teachers used to roll us outside in our sun-proof bubbles and plonk us in the middle of the playground to just stare into space? God, those were the days."
Wednesday 15 February 2012
I'll be there for you...coz you're there for me too
Friends. Good friends that is. They're a replacement family when your own is juuuuuuuuust a little bit mental. Or, if you have a perfectly sane family, they can be the people you talk to and rely on when you just can't bear to break the news to your lovely Mum that you're getting married to that skinhead ex-punk in his 50's who used to drink with your Dad down the pub. Oh, and he's just become a member National Socialism party and has a Swastika tattooed on his neck. Mazel tov! Erm, sorry.
Your mates however, will not frown down upon you for marrying Mr Hitler-wannabe. They will express their concern, they will ask you to think over your options and make sure you are definitely making the right decision. But they will not judge you and they will go along with whatever makes you happy. This, is a true friend. I sometimes watch chick flicks and feel a little bit envious at the gal pals who've been joined at the hip since the days of being bottle-fed. As I moved away from my East London birthplace when I was only 5, there wasn't anybody I felt particularly close enough to to bother keeping in touch. When I moved away from Essex I was only just 9 years old, or 10...I can't remember. I did then have some friends I knew I was going to miss, so we kept in touch. The problem was that I was the one doing most of the contact, then after some years they stopped bothering with me. Why be friends with someone who's over a hundred miles away when you can make friends with someone just down the road? I was sad, but had to accept they'd moved on. Now, thanks to the beauty of Facebook, I can get back in touch with old classmates - although I don't bother keeping in touch with those who gave up on me.
It was when I started work at Specsavers 6 years ago that I met Sarah, now one of my two best, closest mates. Then, when I started work at our local radio station, I got to talking with Emma who worked at HQ and realised she was definitely on my wavelength. She is now the second of my best mates. Aside from Sarah and Emma I have a small group of good mates who I know would never screw me over. They may not always share my opinions and they may not be the ones I call when I'm upset, but I know I can trust them and can rely on them when I need them.
A good friend is one who will be prepared to drive from miles away in the middle of the night to pick you up when you're unable to drive home through the tears, having just broken up with your boyfriend. A good friend is one who demands you go over to her house for spaghetti bolognese and a glass of rose wine and cry on her shoulder for as long as it takes. A good friend is one who offers you a place to sleep at her house in London, even though she has limited space, if you find a job that's too good to refuse but have nowhere to stay. A good friend is one who, after you've had to cancel the girls night out because you've lost your job and can't afford to go out, says "no worries" and hauls in pizza, wine and board games for a girls night in. As I'm sure you've probably guessed, these friends are mine. And even though we haven't "known each other since we were bottle-fed", we will stay knowing each other until we're uber-old and having to be bottle-fed by our carers, so it works both ways.
Your mates however, will not frown down upon you for marrying Mr Hitler-wannabe. They will express their concern, they will ask you to think over your options and make sure you are definitely making the right decision. But they will not judge you and they will go along with whatever makes you happy. This, is a true friend. I sometimes watch chick flicks and feel a little bit envious at the gal pals who've been joined at the hip since the days of being bottle-fed. As I moved away from my East London birthplace when I was only 5, there wasn't anybody I felt particularly close enough to to bother keeping in touch. When I moved away from Essex I was only just 9 years old, or 10...I can't remember. I did then have some friends I knew I was going to miss, so we kept in touch. The problem was that I was the one doing most of the contact, then after some years they stopped bothering with me. Why be friends with someone who's over a hundred miles away when you can make friends with someone just down the road? I was sad, but had to accept they'd moved on. Now, thanks to the beauty of Facebook, I can get back in touch with old classmates - although I don't bother keeping in touch with those who gave up on me.
It was when I started work at Specsavers 6 years ago that I met Sarah, now one of my two best, closest mates. Then, when I started work at our local radio station, I got to talking with Emma who worked at HQ and realised she was definitely on my wavelength. She is now the second of my best mates. Aside from Sarah and Emma I have a small group of good mates who I know would never screw me over. They may not always share my opinions and they may not be the ones I call when I'm upset, but I know I can trust them and can rely on them when I need them.
A good friend is one who will be prepared to drive from miles away in the middle of the night to pick you up when you're unable to drive home through the tears, having just broken up with your boyfriend. A good friend is one who demands you go over to her house for spaghetti bolognese and a glass of rose wine and cry on her shoulder for as long as it takes. A good friend is one who offers you a place to sleep at her house in London, even though she has limited space, if you find a job that's too good to refuse but have nowhere to stay. A good friend is one who, after you've had to cancel the girls night out because you've lost your job and can't afford to go out, says "no worries" and hauls in pizza, wine and board games for a girls night in. As I'm sure you've probably guessed, these friends are mine. And even though we haven't "known each other since we were bottle-fed", we will stay knowing each other until we're uber-old and having to be bottle-fed by our carers, so it works both ways.
Tuesday 14 February 2012
Yes boss no boss three bags full
There is a company in Lowestoft who, having recently screwed me - big time - have gotten me on my high horse about workers rights in this country. Or rather, lack of.
From one job to another, I'm very annoyed at the fact that employers can treat temps like shit and get away with it. The Government have more or less ruled that no employee should have any right to contest unfair dismissal unless that employee has worked at the company for 2 years or more, or if it was blatant discrimination. This leaves any employer open to do pretty much anything they want. If your boss wakes up one day in a bad mood and decides he wants to fire you, then I guess you'd better clear out your desk (but make sure you nick a few pens and post-it pads first!).Shouldn't temporary workers have just as much rights as long-term workers? In today's current climate, with un-employment being extremely high, maybe the Government ought to take a look at just how much they're paying in Jobseekers Allowance and change the rules to favour eveybody having the right to not be treated like crap; they'd save a fortune. Until that happens - I predict a rise in buskers and car-booters!
From one job to another, I'm very annoyed at the fact that employers can treat temps like shit and get away with it. The Government have more or less ruled that no employee should have any right to contest unfair dismissal unless that employee has worked at the company for 2 years or more, or if it was blatant discrimination. This leaves any employer open to do pretty much anything they want. If your boss wakes up one day in a bad mood and decides he wants to fire you, then I guess you'd better clear out your desk (but make sure you nick a few pens and post-it pads first!).Shouldn't temporary workers have just as much rights as long-term workers? In today's current climate, with un-employment being extremely high, maybe the Government ought to take a look at just how much they're paying in Jobseekers Allowance and change the rules to favour eveybody having the right to not be treated like crap; they'd save a fortune. Until that happens - I predict a rise in buskers and car-booters!
Monday 13 February 2012
Hooray Hooray, it's a Holi-Holiday. Or not.
Supposedly, "it's a world of fun for everyone". But really, the lyrics should be changed to "it's a world of fun for everyone...as long as you have no job but lots of money".
The list of places in the world I'd like to visit is endless; Rome, Australia, Arizona, New York, Tennessee, Bavaria, Norway, Russia, Hong Kong, Vancouver...and so on. It doesn't seem feasible for me to actually be able to visit all these places in my entire lifetime. Anybody with a run-of-the-mill job will usually get between 22 - 28 days holiday, or if you're a Company Director or politician...a considerable amount more. Also, I take into account how much it's cost to visit all these places. I'm not sure what basic wage is nowadays but I'm pretty certain it won't cover my wish list. When I get my own house, it'll make things even less likely because I'll be bogged down with bills. I have no intention to breed, so children will play no part in ruining my social life at all. Thankfully. So my only solution is to win the lottery. This is on my bucket list.
I get really annoyed when people win the lottery and say "I won't let it change me. I'll still go to work every day." I feel like people who say utterly stupid things like that should have their money taken away from them. If I were to win £23 million, or whatever, I would most definitely let it change me! I would change from skint to loaded, I would change from occassionally depressed to occassionally so happy I could hump myself, and I would change from being thrifty to "fuck it, let's buy a boat today". As for still going in to work every day; the only way I would return to work after winning enough money to never have to work again, would be if I worked as an underwear fitter for male models; or a food taster for Nuttella. If the reason for returning to work after becoming a millionaire is because you'd be bored not having to work...join a fucking social club. In fact, after becoming a millionaire you could probably join the most elite clubs in the world. Go travelling. Buy a nightclub and go dancing and networking every night.
Go back to work indeed. Pfft! These people are sad and simple minded. I would let it change my lifestyle, but it wouldn't change my personality at all. Even after winning a million, I still wouldn't care a less about your problems....
The list of places in the world I'd like to visit is endless; Rome, Australia, Arizona, New York, Tennessee, Bavaria, Norway, Russia, Hong Kong, Vancouver...and so on. It doesn't seem feasible for me to actually be able to visit all these places in my entire lifetime. Anybody with a run-of-the-mill job will usually get between 22 - 28 days holiday, or if you're a Company Director or politician...a considerable amount more. Also, I take into account how much it's cost to visit all these places. I'm not sure what basic wage is nowadays but I'm pretty certain it won't cover my wish list. When I get my own house, it'll make things even less likely because I'll be bogged down with bills. I have no intention to breed, so children will play no part in ruining my social life at all. Thankfully. So my only solution is to win the lottery. This is on my bucket list.
I get really annoyed when people win the lottery and say "I won't let it change me. I'll still go to work every day." I feel like people who say utterly stupid things like that should have their money taken away from them. If I were to win £23 million, or whatever, I would most definitely let it change me! I would change from skint to loaded, I would change from occassionally depressed to occassionally so happy I could hump myself, and I would change from being thrifty to "fuck it, let's buy a boat today". As for still going in to work every day; the only way I would return to work after winning enough money to never have to work again, would be if I worked as an underwear fitter for male models; or a food taster for Nuttella. If the reason for returning to work after becoming a millionaire is because you'd be bored not having to work...join a fucking social club. In fact, after becoming a millionaire you could probably join the most elite clubs in the world. Go travelling. Buy a nightclub and go dancing and networking every night.
Go back to work indeed. Pfft! These people are sad and simple minded. I would let it change my lifestyle, but it wouldn't change my personality at all. Even after winning a million, I still wouldn't care a less about your problems....
Sunday 12 February 2012
Pork. But not as we know it.
I've volunteered to cook the Sunday roast today. Slow-roasted shoulder of pork for 5 people. Only time will tell if I cook it well enough so it doesn't taste like my leather ankle boot. At 3pm I'm hoping people will be tucking in to a culinary masterpiece created by myself...with a little help from Jamie Oliver.
One thing I've noticed is how bloody expensive meat it. When I was cooking for my partner and myself last year I kept an eye out for discounted lamb and beef because it was so pricey to buy at full price. I love leg of lamb, but you can expect to pay anything from £16 up to about £25. It's ridiculous. Occassionally a supermarket would slash the price of a half leg of lamb, but then there isn't enough meat on that to feed a small water vole. If water voles actually ate lamb that is. Victoria Beckham could eat a whole half leg of lamb to herself and still be craving more.
First time house buyers have enough to worry about, what with getting into life-long debt and turmoil from buying their first tedious little one-bedroom house with no garden, without having to worry about not providing a decent meal because of the price of meat. My advice to all soon-to-be newly weds is this; cancel your wedding list for toasters, fondue sets and matching crockery and replace these items with meat requests. That's going to be the only way you'll be able to afford to eat a proper hearty meal in your lovely new house, on Mum and Dads lovely new housewarming oven. Maybe it's the Governments way of getting us to save energy...? Save electricity by not using your oven because food is too expensive. Hmm. My new diet is going to be expensive too, have you seen the price of healthy eating food??? A single apple costs almost as much as a bar of chocolate or a packet of crisps. Whenever you see special offers in supermarkets it's always things like, Buy 1 Get 1 Free on multipack bags of Monster Munch; or double chocolate chip cookies made with 4 types of chocolate, dipped in chocolate, with a chocolate middle...now down to 50p for 500 packets. I'm exaggerating of course but you get my point. God bless Aldi and Lidl for providing us with cheap fruit and veg. I've realised that it's cheaper to be fat, until you get morbidly fat and end up costing us tax-payers a fortune because we'll paying for your gastric band surgery or disability benefits. I realise of course this doesn't apply to every one, but people like that guy from Ipswich who has to be carried out of his house by a crane, or whatever. Sick.
So anyway, back to the meat. I'm predicting a surge of people turning vegetarian in a few years or so, if only because of these rising meat prices. Not me though. Oh no. A dinner without meat would be like crotchless knickers in winter; it just doesn't make sense.
At least you all know what's going to be on my wedding list when that day ever comes.
One thing I've noticed is how bloody expensive meat it. When I was cooking for my partner and myself last year I kept an eye out for discounted lamb and beef because it was so pricey to buy at full price. I love leg of lamb, but you can expect to pay anything from £16 up to about £25. It's ridiculous. Occassionally a supermarket would slash the price of a half leg of lamb, but then there isn't enough meat on that to feed a small water vole. If water voles actually ate lamb that is. Victoria Beckham could eat a whole half leg of lamb to herself and still be craving more.
First time house buyers have enough to worry about, what with getting into life-long debt and turmoil from buying their first tedious little one-bedroom house with no garden, without having to worry about not providing a decent meal because of the price of meat. My advice to all soon-to-be newly weds is this; cancel your wedding list for toasters, fondue sets and matching crockery and replace these items with meat requests. That's going to be the only way you'll be able to afford to eat a proper hearty meal in your lovely new house, on Mum and Dads lovely new housewarming oven. Maybe it's the Governments way of getting us to save energy...? Save electricity by not using your oven because food is too expensive. Hmm. My new diet is going to be expensive too, have you seen the price of healthy eating food??? A single apple costs almost as much as a bar of chocolate or a packet of crisps. Whenever you see special offers in supermarkets it's always things like, Buy 1 Get 1 Free on multipack bags of Monster Munch; or double chocolate chip cookies made with 4 types of chocolate, dipped in chocolate, with a chocolate middle...now down to 50p for 500 packets. I'm exaggerating of course but you get my point. God bless Aldi and Lidl for providing us with cheap fruit and veg. I've realised that it's cheaper to be fat, until you get morbidly fat and end up costing us tax-payers a fortune because we'll paying for your gastric band surgery or disability benefits. I realise of course this doesn't apply to every one, but people like that guy from Ipswich who has to be carried out of his house by a crane, or whatever. Sick.
So anyway, back to the meat. I'm predicting a surge of people turning vegetarian in a few years or so, if only because of these rising meat prices. Not me though. Oh no. A dinner without meat would be like crotchless knickers in winter; it just doesn't make sense.
At least you all know what's going to be on my wedding list when that day ever comes.
Saturday 11 February 2012
Would you like some Fava Beans and a nice Chianti with that..?
I've decided that I am definately going to lose some weight this year. I'm going to take it seriously from now on. I said this yesterday morning and then accidently had a latte and a cheesecake for lunch.....no really, it was a complete accident, like a mysterious force had taken over my body. One moment I was at my desk eating a bowl of tuna nicoise, the next thing I know I'm sitting in Howards Tea Rooms clutching a fork and staring at the most beautiful desert I've ever seen in my life. My one consolation is that it came with a side portion of blueberries so as far as I'm concerned, I had one of my five a days and therefore that cancels out the cheesecake.
I have a Wii Fit but not enough space to set it all up. That's the god honest truth. I may have to forfeit the sofa to make some room. I have 2 exercise dvds and a Strcitly Dance dvd so I'm going to start doing them. I'm not going to join the gym because I really can't build up that motivation to get into my car and drive there. Plus it's pretty expensive anyway. As soon as this arctic-like weather goes away I'll be doing more walking (to the pub).
I've never met a single person who is 100% happy with their body. If anybody says they are they're lying. On the odd occassion I've had a slim friend say to me, "god I feel fat, I think I'm going on a diet". I could slap them. Unless your boobs touch your stomach when you sit down you are not bloody fat! A lot of skinny women say things like that to fish for compliments. A guy I know, a very vain guy, used to come in to work sometimes cluching his (non-existant) stomach saying "I feel really fat today, do you think I look fat"? "Yes you do" I'd say, "In fact you're starting to get that cheesy, fishy, fat person smell about you." He would then leave the room to sob into his non-fat latte. Of course he didn't look fat, and he knew it, he just wanted me to confirm that there was nothing wrong with him. As I've stated in a previous blog; I do not flatter ego's.
My weight has been up and down like a yo-yo over the years. I did get quite slender at one point when I was working at Pontins. This was mainly because the food they served staff wasn't fit for dogs. In fact it looked like something a dog would hurl up. There was a little staff kitchen for those who lived on-site, but it always looked like someone had been pissing up the walls and nobody ever cleaned anything up after themselves. I never worried about going to the doctors for penicillin if I had an infection; I'd just wander into the staff kitchen and scrape some off the toaster. But now I'm back up to a size 16 and in some shops I even have to go for a size 18. I feel pretty bad about myself. I actually avoid looking into the mirror at my body. My vital statistics last year were 40", 36", 40". This may seem a bit high but at least I was a perfect hourglass figure. Now I'm looking at a 42", 38" 41" figure. I don't really give a shit what size clothing I am (well, as long as it's a 16 or under), I just want to feel good about myself and fit into clothes nicely. I've found that clothes I was wearing last year which looked good on me now just look unflattering.
So now I'm on a mission to find a sport or type of exercise which I can enjoy whilst losing some weight. I'm cutting out all crap (except for the takeaway I'll be eating at the end of the month to celebrate my first pay check!) and reducing my carb intake. I already only eat food low in saturated fats so I'm going the right way about it. But god I love food and god it's going to be hard....and god I'm going to be grouchy.
So be warned, all you skinny women who dare to say to me that you "feel fat", whilst I'm on my diet; when fatty is hungry, she'll eat anything....even very lean meat.
I have a Wii Fit but not enough space to set it all up. That's the god honest truth. I may have to forfeit the sofa to make some room. I have 2 exercise dvds and a Strcitly Dance dvd so I'm going to start doing them. I'm not going to join the gym because I really can't build up that motivation to get into my car and drive there. Plus it's pretty expensive anyway. As soon as this arctic-like weather goes away I'll be doing more walking (to the pub).
I've never met a single person who is 100% happy with their body. If anybody says they are they're lying. On the odd occassion I've had a slim friend say to me, "god I feel fat, I think I'm going on a diet". I could slap them. Unless your boobs touch your stomach when you sit down you are not bloody fat! A lot of skinny women say things like that to fish for compliments. A guy I know, a very vain guy, used to come in to work sometimes cluching his (non-existant) stomach saying "I feel really fat today, do you think I look fat"? "Yes you do" I'd say, "In fact you're starting to get that cheesy, fishy, fat person smell about you." He would then leave the room to sob into his non-fat latte. Of course he didn't look fat, and he knew it, he just wanted me to confirm that there was nothing wrong with him. As I've stated in a previous blog; I do not flatter ego's.
My weight has been up and down like a yo-yo over the years. I did get quite slender at one point when I was working at Pontins. This was mainly because the food they served staff wasn't fit for dogs. In fact it looked like something a dog would hurl up. There was a little staff kitchen for those who lived on-site, but it always looked like someone had been pissing up the walls and nobody ever cleaned anything up after themselves. I never worried about going to the doctors for penicillin if I had an infection; I'd just wander into the staff kitchen and scrape some off the toaster. But now I'm back up to a size 16 and in some shops I even have to go for a size 18. I feel pretty bad about myself. I actually avoid looking into the mirror at my body. My vital statistics last year were 40", 36", 40". This may seem a bit high but at least I was a perfect hourglass figure. Now I'm looking at a 42", 38" 41" figure. I don't really give a shit what size clothing I am (well, as long as it's a 16 or under), I just want to feel good about myself and fit into clothes nicely. I've found that clothes I was wearing last year which looked good on me now just look unflattering.
So now I'm on a mission to find a sport or type of exercise which I can enjoy whilst losing some weight. I'm cutting out all crap (except for the takeaway I'll be eating at the end of the month to celebrate my first pay check!) and reducing my carb intake. I already only eat food low in saturated fats so I'm going the right way about it. But god I love food and god it's going to be hard....and god I'm going to be grouchy.
So be warned, all you skinny women who dare to say to me that you "feel fat", whilst I'm on my diet; when fatty is hungry, she'll eat anything....even very lean meat.
Thursday 9 February 2012
A Game is for Life, not Just for Xmas
When you find something you really like and it seems there's no catch, it's usually too good to be true. In a relationship you meet a guy and he's good looking, funny, got a good job and a heart of gold.....then you discover he has a small penis. Or a mental ex-wife. Or he collects stamps.
When you're house-hunting and think you've found the perfect house, you discover your neighbours are into death metal at all hours. Or they're Charles Manson followers. Or worse....Jehovahs Witness.
At your new job you find you really enjoy the work but your colleagues are complete back-stabbing douchbags. But in my case, I love the work, the company is very esteemed and my colleagues seem pretty cool. The snag? FACEBOOK: THIS SITE HAS BEEN BLOCKED BY YOUR ADMINISTRATOR. Oh. My. God. I sat down happily at my desk during my lunch hour, ready to log on and web-socialise with my buddies, typed in the Facebook address.... Access Denied. The bottom instantly fell out of my life. When the hell did social networking take over my life....? I'm considering not being able to wait a few more hours to go on Facebook to be a major problem! This is ridiculous! I think I may have to abstain from FB, Twatter, whatever the hell else, just for a week or so. Just so I can prove I can live without it.
I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one either. We take a lot of other things for granted; sitting down with our family to play a game of Cluedo or Game of Life. Or being creative and learning a new skill. Kids and teens nowadays probably spend about 80% of their time outside of school on the computer...or X Box, Wii, whatever. I think it's quite sad. Even kids who used to be sporty at school are now replacing actual sports with Wii sports! What happened to getting a little fresh air in your lungs???? I say all this of course but I wouldn't dream of participating in any kind of sports outside of my own home (unless it's a game of pool down the local pub). We play boardgames, but only at Xmas. Why? Is this the only time families can bear to be with each other?
Personally, I'm gonna go home after work and dig out my Blockbusters and Monopoly just to bring a little nostalgia into my life and take the chance to socialise with my parents. After I've checked my Facebook.....
When you're house-hunting and think you've found the perfect house, you discover your neighbours are into death metal at all hours. Or they're Charles Manson followers. Or worse....Jehovahs Witness.
At your new job you find you really enjoy the work but your colleagues are complete back-stabbing douchbags. But in my case, I love the work, the company is very esteemed and my colleagues seem pretty cool. The snag? FACEBOOK: THIS SITE HAS BEEN BLOCKED BY YOUR ADMINISTRATOR. Oh. My. God. I sat down happily at my desk during my lunch hour, ready to log on and web-socialise with my buddies, typed in the Facebook address.... Access Denied. The bottom instantly fell out of my life. When the hell did social networking take over my life....? I'm considering not being able to wait a few more hours to go on Facebook to be a major problem! This is ridiculous! I think I may have to abstain from FB, Twatter, whatever the hell else, just for a week or so. Just so I can prove I can live without it.
I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one either. We take a lot of other things for granted; sitting down with our family to play a game of Cluedo or Game of Life. Or being creative and learning a new skill. Kids and teens nowadays probably spend about 80% of their time outside of school on the computer...or X Box, Wii, whatever. I think it's quite sad. Even kids who used to be sporty at school are now replacing actual sports with Wii sports! What happened to getting a little fresh air in your lungs???? I say all this of course but I wouldn't dream of participating in any kind of sports outside of my own home (unless it's a game of pool down the local pub). We play boardgames, but only at Xmas. Why? Is this the only time families can bear to be with each other?
Personally, I'm gonna go home after work and dig out my Blockbusters and Monopoly just to bring a little nostalgia into my life and take the chance to socialise with my parents. After I've checked my Facebook.....
Wednesday 8 February 2012
Halfway to Paradise
Lazy day today, can't be arsed too write much.
Halfway through the week and still not created any major disasters at work. This is good! Getting a bit more chummy with certain people so I feel quite a bit happier in myself. It's not been the best few months, 2012 seemed like a crock of shit at the beginning of the year and I was already wishing the year away. But now things are starting to fall into place. Still missing my ex but there's no evidence of our problems going away any time soon, so I need to move on. He calls or texts every now and again and it's nice to hear his voice, but at the same time it's hard for me because I know he wants us to get back together. Unfortunately I just think he is a person who will never be happy with himself, and that doesn't make for a happy relationship all round.
Anyway, I'll not bring the mood down too much here!
A mate texted today to suggest a night out in celebration of my first pay check at the end of the month. A very very good idea indeed. Takeaway, followed by getting dolled up for the first time in what feels like a fricking lifetime, followed by drinks...cocktails no doubt...at our local winebar. I never used to really enjoy going out drinking but I think after 3 months of not having the money to socialise I'll be headbanging the goddamn night away....! Good times.
Halfway through the week and still not created any major disasters at work. This is good! Getting a bit more chummy with certain people so I feel quite a bit happier in myself. It's not been the best few months, 2012 seemed like a crock of shit at the beginning of the year and I was already wishing the year away. But now things are starting to fall into place. Still missing my ex but there's no evidence of our problems going away any time soon, so I need to move on. He calls or texts every now and again and it's nice to hear his voice, but at the same time it's hard for me because I know he wants us to get back together. Unfortunately I just think he is a person who will never be happy with himself, and that doesn't make for a happy relationship all round.
Anyway, I'll not bring the mood down too much here!
A mate texted today to suggest a night out in celebration of my first pay check at the end of the month. A very very good idea indeed. Takeaway, followed by getting dolled up for the first time in what feels like a fricking lifetime, followed by drinks...cocktails no doubt...at our local winebar. I never used to really enjoy going out drinking but I think after 3 months of not having the money to socialise I'll be headbanging the goddamn night away....! Good times.
Tuesday 7 February 2012
Turned out nice again....
So the first two days of my new job went fabulously. Well, I'm probably exaggerating. I'd say more like - I survived my first two days at work without killing/maiming anybody, accidently saying Fuck to my superior, calling anybody a douchebag, sending a rude email to the Director of the Board by mistake. It's too early to know exactly what everybody's really like, but first impressions tell me almost everybody seems really friendly. The woman training me is cool (and very patient!). She makes me laugh because she's like a combination of Monica from Friends, with a little bit of Phoebe thrown in and Reece Witherspoon from Legally Blonde. The most important thing is that she's friendly and has a sense of humour. If I'm stuck working in a humour-less environment I'll just wither and die.
Do you ever wish you could change certain aspects of your personality? I sometimes wish I could be a little less casual and relaxed. Some people would say what's wrong with being laid back? But my problem is that I get comfortable quite quickly and I just talk to everybody exactly the same. I'll never get a promotion anywhere because I can't brown nose and I don't like boosting people's egos - unless of course it's a mate who's feeling down and needs a boost, then it's ok. I guess I give off a certain impression that I'm a very unprofessional person at work, just really because I like to familiarise myself with people and I like to chat and have a laugh, when the moment is appropriate that is. Obviously, I can draw a line. For example; when the Managing Director approaches for a chat, I won't respond by saying something like, "Alright me ole mucker, how's it hanging?? (said in Cockney accent....because I'm from the East End obviously, not because I like faking accents). I will also only swear in the office if everybody else is doing it. If people were walking in going "Morning ya fucking arsehole, how was your fucking weekend ya wankstain?"....then I would feel comfortable to throw in the odd fuck. Oh wait, I should re-phrase that really......
Do you ever wish you could change certain aspects of your personality? I sometimes wish I could be a little less casual and relaxed. Some people would say what's wrong with being laid back? But my problem is that I get comfortable quite quickly and I just talk to everybody exactly the same. I'll never get a promotion anywhere because I can't brown nose and I don't like boosting people's egos - unless of course it's a mate who's feeling down and needs a boost, then it's ok. I guess I give off a certain impression that I'm a very unprofessional person at work, just really because I like to familiarise myself with people and I like to chat and have a laugh, when the moment is appropriate that is. Obviously, I can draw a line. For example; when the Managing Director approaches for a chat, I won't respond by saying something like, "Alright me ole mucker, how's it hanging?? (said in Cockney accent....because I'm from the East End obviously, not because I like faking accents). I will also only swear in the office if everybody else is doing it. If people were walking in going "Morning ya fucking arsehole, how was your fucking weekend ya wankstain?"....then I would feel comfortable to throw in the odd fuck. Oh wait, I should re-phrase that really......
Sunday 5 February 2012
School. What's it all about anyway..?
Ah school. The bain of my life. My school reports generally read something like this;
"Leigh needs to concentrate more in class. When she gets her head down she can produce some very good work, but unfortunately she is easily distracted by others and likes to chat during lessons."
Yes, that would be because you bore me. Now I've never taught a class of juveniles in my life so I've no right to dictate how a school teacher should teach it's class, however, there are certain methods I find a little strange. Take for example, my old history teacher in high school (who shall not be named. Mainly because I can't remember her name); she used to punish students for being disruptive by making them stand outside the classroom for 10 minutes. What a brilliant idea! Punish a student who hates their history class by making them stand outside so they don't have to learn anything! Fantastic! Obviously I cottoned on to this pretty early on. One time I got caught whispering to my mate and got kicked outside for the rest of the lesson, she'd obviously forgotten about me. No problem with me, I used the opportunity to gaze longingly into the next class where a teacher I fancied was right in my eye line. I can learn more history knowledge in 1 episode of Horrible Histories then I did in the whole 3 years she taught me.
Another teacher who I also won't name..oh ok...MR GEORGE....had it in for me from day one. About 4 or 5 other students in my class were a lot more disruptive than me. One lad used to shout and holler and purposely ask ridiculous questions just to get a laugh out of his numbskull mates. I won't mince my words; he was a cock. He also took great delight in ripping the shit out of me and various other vulnerable kids for no reason at all. I'm not sure why he chose me, I wasn't particularly ugly or fat, I had no disability or afflictions and we all wore uniforms so I had no "two stripe" trainers for him to take the piss out of (those of you who couldn't afford Adidas will know exactly what I'm talking about!). But anyway, one day in class he started shouted names at me and calling me big nose (I've got a major thing about my nose now but everybody else says there's nothing wrong with it. I guess we all have our hang ups). MR GEORGE did absolutely nothing. I looked at him in the hope he'd make it stop and, unbelievably, I caught him smirking. From that moment on I took no notice of his lessons and couldn't give a flying fuck about Geography (yep, that was his subject. When he asked if I knew what to do with a compass I thought to myself "yeah, I can think of a few ways....")
My favourite moment at school was when I got involved in a fisticuffs with the girl who'd bullied me on and off throughout my school years. I was intelligent enough to provoke her to throw the first punch (or slap, in her case) so nobody could say I started it. The conclusion was we were eventually broken up by the teacher and we casually went our separate ways. Job done. More about that in a future blog..!
The next day the Deputy Head or Form Head, whatever she was, called my Mum into the school. I'd already explained to my parents the previous day what had happened and they just told me not to worry, they'd sort everything out. After I explained to the teacher, in front of my Mum, the turn of events, the teacher looked at my Mum and smirked (yep, another smirker). "Well obviously we're going to suspend them both and I'm sure you understand that fighting cannot be tolerated". My Mum just gave her a steely stare and said "Well personally, my husband and I won't be punishing our daughter for sticking up for herself when teachers like you knew she was being bullied and did cock all about it." I knew she was going to say something like that, my parents had always encouraged me to fight my own battles and not put up with any shit. All the same, I nearly died when she said it out loud. The look on my teachers face was priceless. She thought I was going to get an epic bollocking. Ha!
So I didn't have great experiences at school. I felt I learnt pretty much zero. I'm sure many other people have the opposite experience, but that's just me. I got an F for Geography and then went on to get fantastic grades doing a travel course at college. I got an E for languages, now I'm more than competant at talking to my Spanish friends in their own tongue. I got a C and a D for English, now I'm writing children's stories to hopefully be published one day. But the best of all; an F for history, but now I'm shit hot at it and would love to be working at a history museum. What does that say for my high school teachers....? *smirks*
"Leigh needs to concentrate more in class. When she gets her head down she can produce some very good work, but unfortunately she is easily distracted by others and likes to chat during lessons."
Yes, that would be because you bore me. Now I've never taught a class of juveniles in my life so I've no right to dictate how a school teacher should teach it's class, however, there are certain methods I find a little strange. Take for example, my old history teacher in high school (who shall not be named. Mainly because I can't remember her name); she used to punish students for being disruptive by making them stand outside the classroom for 10 minutes. What a brilliant idea! Punish a student who hates their history class by making them stand outside so they don't have to learn anything! Fantastic! Obviously I cottoned on to this pretty early on. One time I got caught whispering to my mate and got kicked outside for the rest of the lesson, she'd obviously forgotten about me. No problem with me, I used the opportunity to gaze longingly into the next class where a teacher I fancied was right in my eye line. I can learn more history knowledge in 1 episode of Horrible Histories then I did in the whole 3 years she taught me.
Another teacher who I also won't name..oh ok...MR GEORGE....had it in for me from day one. About 4 or 5 other students in my class were a lot more disruptive than me. One lad used to shout and holler and purposely ask ridiculous questions just to get a laugh out of his numbskull mates. I won't mince my words; he was a cock. He also took great delight in ripping the shit out of me and various other vulnerable kids for no reason at all. I'm not sure why he chose me, I wasn't particularly ugly or fat, I had no disability or afflictions and we all wore uniforms so I had no "two stripe" trainers for him to take the piss out of (those of you who couldn't afford Adidas will know exactly what I'm talking about!). But anyway, one day in class he started shouted names at me and calling me big nose (I've got a major thing about my nose now but everybody else says there's nothing wrong with it. I guess we all have our hang ups). MR GEORGE did absolutely nothing. I looked at him in the hope he'd make it stop and, unbelievably, I caught him smirking. From that moment on I took no notice of his lessons and couldn't give a flying fuck about Geography (yep, that was his subject. When he asked if I knew what to do with a compass I thought to myself "yeah, I can think of a few ways....")
My favourite moment at school was when I got involved in a fisticuffs with the girl who'd bullied me on and off throughout my school years. I was intelligent enough to provoke her to throw the first punch (or slap, in her case) so nobody could say I started it. The conclusion was we were eventually broken up by the teacher and we casually went our separate ways. Job done. More about that in a future blog..!
The next day the Deputy Head or Form Head, whatever she was, called my Mum into the school. I'd already explained to my parents the previous day what had happened and they just told me not to worry, they'd sort everything out. After I explained to the teacher, in front of my Mum, the turn of events, the teacher looked at my Mum and smirked (yep, another smirker). "Well obviously we're going to suspend them both and I'm sure you understand that fighting cannot be tolerated". My Mum just gave her a steely stare and said "Well personally, my husband and I won't be punishing our daughter for sticking up for herself when teachers like you knew she was being bullied and did cock all about it." I knew she was going to say something like that, my parents had always encouraged me to fight my own battles and not put up with any shit. All the same, I nearly died when she said it out loud. The look on my teachers face was priceless. She thought I was going to get an epic bollocking. Ha!
So I didn't have great experiences at school. I felt I learnt pretty much zero. I'm sure many other people have the opposite experience, but that's just me. I got an F for Geography and then went on to get fantastic grades doing a travel course at college. I got an E for languages, now I'm more than competant at talking to my Spanish friends in their own tongue. I got a C and a D for English, now I'm writing children's stories to hopefully be published one day. But the best of all; an F for history, but now I'm shit hot at it and would love to be working at a history museum. What does that say for my high school teachers....? *smirks*
Saturday 4 February 2012
Careers Careers Careers
So I was thinking today. I try not to let that happen too often. I have this new job and that's great. Seems like a respected company, they have a great port folio of work, and I get the feeling it's going to have a great working atmosphere. All I require from a job is that my colleagues are nice and friendly, not bitchy or gossipy or two-faced; I can't stand that shit. Plus of course the money. Money helps. If the work is boring and mundane at least I could have a laugh and a bit of a chat with my colleagues and it'll make my working day a bit easier.
Here is my problem. I will never be happy doing a run-of-the-mill, 9-5 office job. I will never be happy doing something that doesn't bring me recognition for being great at something. Whatever that something would be. Don't get me wrong, I will be loyal and I will throw myself into that job as long as I get at least a teeny bit of respect from my superiors (I hate using that word superiors. I don't believe anybody is more superior than me. Not in a big-headed sense, just that the word seems to signify that that person is better than you. Anyway, I digress....).
I've written a list of all the things I have interests in that could relate to a career of some sorts;
1) History. Museums, castles and old manor houses.
2) Acting.
3) Reptiles - specifically Crocodylidae (the common crocodile), monkeys, giraffes.
4) Writing children's fiction.
5) Being able to share my knowledge of history to people who are genuinely interested.
Here are my dislikes;
1) Anything to do with accounts.
2) Having to deal with people's problems and complaints.
3) Noisy, disruptive children.
4) Smelling of monkey poo at the end of the day.
5) Doing anything that would mess up my hair and nails.
6) Getting up extremely early in the morning.
7) The monotomy of a day which is the same over and over again.
So you can see that points 3, 4 and 5 of my dislikes would probably rule out a career at the zoo. Disappointing really because I think it could be quite fun. Still, rough with the smooth I suppose. If I had to choose a career it would be acting. My second choice would be something like a museum curator, working at the Tower of London or being a tour guide at Hever Castle or Hampton Court. Unfortunately, my love of history will not bring me a career. Reason being, most of these people have degrees and I do not think I could mentally endure a 3 year or 4 year stint at university. I don't really get most Monty Python sketches, I hate poetry and I don't own a stripey scarf; I'd be useless at uni. I have shitloads of knowledge, but without a PHD I may as well give up right now.
Acting. Option number one. Ruled out before I've even started. I have a problem. I'm not a huge risk-taker and we all know that nobody becomes top of their game without taking a few risks. It's all very well to say "quit your job and go for it", but after spending 3 months unemployed in the worse economical crisis in years...I think I'll pass. However, I have no house of my own to pay for, I don't have any children, I'm not married, hell...I don't even have a boyfriend. Erm. Ok, now I'm depressed. What was my point...?
Note to self; work on your pep talk.
Here is my problem. I will never be happy doing a run-of-the-mill, 9-5 office job. I will never be happy doing something that doesn't bring me recognition for being great at something. Whatever that something would be. Don't get me wrong, I will be loyal and I will throw myself into that job as long as I get at least a teeny bit of respect from my superiors (I hate using that word superiors. I don't believe anybody is more superior than me. Not in a big-headed sense, just that the word seems to signify that that person is better than you. Anyway, I digress....).
I've written a list of all the things I have interests in that could relate to a career of some sorts;
1) History. Museums, castles and old manor houses.
2) Acting.
3) Reptiles - specifically Crocodylidae (the common crocodile), monkeys, giraffes.
4) Writing children's fiction.
5) Being able to share my knowledge of history to people who are genuinely interested.
Here are my dislikes;
1) Anything to do with accounts.
2) Having to deal with people's problems and complaints.
3) Noisy, disruptive children.
4) Smelling of monkey poo at the end of the day.
5) Doing anything that would mess up my hair and nails.
6) Getting up extremely early in the morning.
7) The monotomy of a day which is the same over and over again.
So you can see that points 3, 4 and 5 of my dislikes would probably rule out a career at the zoo. Disappointing really because I think it could be quite fun. Still, rough with the smooth I suppose. If I had to choose a career it would be acting. My second choice would be something like a museum curator, working at the Tower of London or being a tour guide at Hever Castle or Hampton Court. Unfortunately, my love of history will not bring me a career. Reason being, most of these people have degrees and I do not think I could mentally endure a 3 year or 4 year stint at university. I don't really get most Monty Python sketches, I hate poetry and I don't own a stripey scarf; I'd be useless at uni. I have shitloads of knowledge, but without a PHD I may as well give up right now.
Acting. Option number one. Ruled out before I've even started. I have a problem. I'm not a huge risk-taker and we all know that nobody becomes top of their game without taking a few risks. It's all very well to say "quit your job and go for it", but after spending 3 months unemployed in the worse economical crisis in years...I think I'll pass. However, I have no house of my own to pay for, I don't have any children, I'm not married, hell...I don't even have a boyfriend. Erm. Ok, now I'm depressed. What was my point...?
Note to self; work on your pep talk.
Friday 3 February 2012
Popping my Blog Cherry
Ok. So welcome to my first blog, although I'm not quite sure who, if any, would read it. I used to keep diaries when I was much younger but, I guess it's more fashionable to convey one's feelings to the entire world online nowadays.
Don't be fooled by my usage of the word "one's"; I'm not posh at all. Sounds good though doesn't it? Although I'm not really sure I should use the apostrophe. My grammar skills are a little slack these days.
I'll bring you up to date, without going too far back just yet. I've just been offered a job after 3 months unemployment - I start Monday. I can't express how much of a relief it is to finally be able to splash out on one of those things I haven't been able to afford in a while. What's it called now..? Oh yes. A life. I'm going to do three things after my first pay day; 1. Go shopping, 2. Treat myself and my parents to lunch at Howards Tea Rooms (best cheesecake everrrrrrrr!!!) and 3. Pay a professional to do me a bikini wax....I'm still trying to grow back that 2nd layer of skin I lost 2 weeks ago through self-waxing. Fun times.
After my little spending spree (although guaranteed now I have money I won't find anything I like) I'm going to be frugal. I still have my car finance to pay off and next year I'll be a bridesmaid in Paphos. I don't know how much it'd cost to stay in Paphos but I'm sure that lunch in Howards Tea Rooms will have to be limited to once a month.
Well that was fun. My first blog. I guess that's it, for now. Stay with me won't you?
Don't be fooled by my usage of the word "one's"; I'm not posh at all. Sounds good though doesn't it? Although I'm not really sure I should use the apostrophe. My grammar skills are a little slack these days.
I'll bring you up to date, without going too far back just yet. I've just been offered a job after 3 months unemployment - I start Monday. I can't express how much of a relief it is to finally be able to splash out on one of those things I haven't been able to afford in a while. What's it called now..? Oh yes. A life. I'm going to do three things after my first pay day; 1. Go shopping, 2. Treat myself and my parents to lunch at Howards Tea Rooms (best cheesecake everrrrrrrr!!!) and 3. Pay a professional to do me a bikini wax....I'm still trying to grow back that 2nd layer of skin I lost 2 weeks ago through self-waxing. Fun times.
After my little spending spree (although guaranteed now I have money I won't find anything I like) I'm going to be frugal. I still have my car finance to pay off and next year I'll be a bridesmaid in Paphos. I don't know how much it'd cost to stay in Paphos but I'm sure that lunch in Howards Tea Rooms will have to be limited to once a month.
Well that was fun. My first blog. I guess that's it, for now. Stay with me won't you?
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