"NOOOO!" glower and warning tone; "Give me my rabbit..."
=spreads hands=
What can I tell you? It was refusing to load the latest Disapproving Rabbits picture and I only have a few minutes before I have to start out. There was a lot at stake.
Don't laugh! There WAS!
Alice xxx
Friday, 31 May 2013
SLIGHT Overreaction, Possibly.
...oh alright then; definitely. And all brought about because of an assumption on the part of one person (Best Friend 3) and a daft decision on the part of another (me).
See, what happened was that today I was due to meet up with Best Friend 3 to be introduced to her boyfriend; something that I was a bit nervous about- well you would be, wouldn't you? It's a big thing to meet the love of your close friend's life - but still game for, because it was important to her and in any case; it gave me an excuse to eat lunch out.
Anyway, I was due to start out at 10:15am, but thanks to the washing machine apparently deciding that it was going complete its 1 hour wash cycle in 1 hour and 12 minutes rather than, y'know, 1 hour, I ended up texting Best Friend 3 to let her know (because I was buggered if I was going to waste the electricity, water and washing powder that had been used by leaving it to go stagnant in the machine) and starting out around 12 or so minutes late. No reply, but then I thought she wouldn't have needed to.
Arriving at the pub at a little before 10:30am, I was disconcerted to find that neither she nor he were there and rang her; confused. The phone rang off. I rang again. Same. So I texted to ask her where she was, apologizing again for my lateness (mentioning my explanatory text for good measure) and telling her that I was there. No reply.
By then, rather than being confused, I was starting to panic. What if she hadn't received my message (damn mobile phones: why do we trust them??) and embarrassed and let down by my lack of arrival to meet her beloved had stormed out, angry with me? Or what if she had received the message and was angry with me anyway? Either way; the idea of her being angry was intolerable to me and I started ringing her over and over again, willing her to pick up, to reassure me, or to have it out with me, either way, to pick up and speak to me.
Nothing.
At a loss as to what else to do I trudged back into the pub, brought myself a large Pepsi Max, parked myself at a table and waited; my phone sat on the surface in front of me.
Ten miserable minutes later, it finally bleeped. Samantha: yes!
"Oh, sorry! Didn't you get my message?" it said, in the usual mess of garbled letters and numbers*; "I texted it twice: Didn't you read them? Nathan couldn't make it after-all so I thought I'd cancel. Sorry. Are you free Saturday 8th?"
Well, the relief that surged through me was so great that I burst into tears. I tried to ring her again and after it rang off, shortly followed by an explanatory text saying: "driving", I sent her a message to ring or text me as soon as she could.
She did, asking again if I could meet her on June 8th. My reply was so long that it took three texts worth. I explained what had happened and that I had thought that she was angry with me. Was she?
"Noooo!" was her response. "Of course I'm not! I didn't realize you hadn't got my messages, that's all. Are you at the pub now?"
I replied and told her that I was (how many texts was it now? I lost count**) and asked (again) for reassurance that she wasn't angry with me.
Of course not, she said. In fact, it was I that should be angry with her, because of being messed around.
No no, I replied. Not angry at all.
So neither of us were. Thank God, thank God.
We arranged to meet at the same place at 6pm on the 8th, she told me that Nathan was looking forward to meeting me, I responded in kind, and that was that. Done and dusted.
So that left me sat in the pub with half a glass of fizzy pop and a stunned expression on my face, feeling very foolish indeed.
Why did I DO that? Must I always overreact? Why can't I simply go with the flow and let things just BE, rather than tying myself up in panicked knots? Oh, I'm such a berk...
In my defense, it's coming up to that special time of the month (...you know...) and my hormones are all over the place. Can that be used in mitigation?
Ah well. Anyway. Everybody's happy now. And the washing is very nearly dry after half a day in the sunshine. So there you go. =shrugs= Happy happy.
Alice x
* I know it saves time and that pretty much everybody does it but me, but I detest the so-called 'text speak', I really do. "L.O.L" is one of the only ones, if not THE only one, I can stand. Abbreviations, I can understand: writing Thurs. instead of Thursday for instance, to save space and or time. But this seemingly unstoppable wave of manglization of the English language brought about by mobile phones and the internet is beyond the pale, it really is. Even The Grandpapa does it.
...And yes; I am aware that 'manglization' is not a word. But it's better than, say, 'LMAO' or 'CRE8'. Right?? Right.
** I may detest text speak, but not texts themselves. Much cheaper and more efficient (when the damn things work) than phoning someone. Particularly during a long and drawn out conversation. And particularly if, like me, you pay a nominal amount per month and in exchange can send a ton of the things for free. I get 5,000 a month, and long chats with Best Friend 3 not withstanding (she is the only one I end up sending lots in one go. Everybody else it's two or so per time. If that. Usually one), I barely use a tenth of that. My record so far is 300 in 28 days. Usually it's 200. A lot, but nowhere near 5,000.
...And yes, I know that if I pay a contracted amount every month (£8!), the texts and/or calls are not really "free", but it works out a heck of a lot cheaper than if I were to manually top up; a heck of a lot. So much so that they practically are. To use the full 5,000 (which, ok, I don't, but I COULD, if I wanted to) it works out at .16th of a penny per text. And for 300 minutes worth of call time it's .2667th of a penny a minute (again, I don't generally use a tenth of that, but again; I COULD); which isn't bad at all. Particularly considering that on Pay As You Go, texts cost an average of 15p each (each!) and calls can work out anything up to around 75p a minute.
See? I know what I'm talking about. Make every penny of every last thing count, is my motto.
I'm what is known as a Budgeting Master.
...Or anally retentive and needlessly pedantic.
It depends on who you talk to. But either way, as the yanks would say: "I Rock".
See, what happened was that today I was due to meet up with Best Friend 3 to be introduced to her boyfriend; something that I was a bit nervous about- well you would be, wouldn't you? It's a big thing to meet the love of your close friend's life - but still game for, because it was important to her and in any case; it gave me an excuse to eat lunch out.
Anyway, I was due to start out at 10:15am, but thanks to the washing machine apparently deciding that it was going complete its 1 hour wash cycle in 1 hour and 12 minutes rather than, y'know, 1 hour, I ended up texting Best Friend 3 to let her know (because I was buggered if I was going to waste the electricity, water and washing powder that had been used by leaving it to go stagnant in the machine) and starting out around 12 or so minutes late. No reply, but then I thought she wouldn't have needed to.
Arriving at the pub at a little before 10:30am, I was disconcerted to find that neither she nor he were there and rang her; confused. The phone rang off. I rang again. Same. So I texted to ask her where she was, apologizing again for my lateness (mentioning my explanatory text for good measure) and telling her that I was there. No reply.
By then, rather than being confused, I was starting to panic. What if she hadn't received my message (damn mobile phones: why do we trust them??) and embarrassed and let down by my lack of arrival to meet her beloved had stormed out, angry with me? Or what if she had received the message and was angry with me anyway? Either way; the idea of her being angry was intolerable to me and I started ringing her over and over again, willing her to pick up, to reassure me, or to have it out with me, either way, to pick up and speak to me.
Nothing.
At a loss as to what else to do I trudged back into the pub, brought myself a large Pepsi Max, parked myself at a table and waited; my phone sat on the surface in front of me.
Ten miserable minutes later, it finally bleeped. Samantha: yes!
"Oh, sorry! Didn't you get my message?" it said, in the usual mess of garbled letters and numbers*; "I texted it twice: Didn't you read them? Nathan couldn't make it after-all so I thought I'd cancel. Sorry. Are you free Saturday 8th?"
Well, the relief that surged through me was so great that I burst into tears. I tried to ring her again and after it rang off, shortly followed by an explanatory text saying: "driving", I sent her a message to ring or text me as soon as she could.
She did, asking again if I could meet her on June 8th. My reply was so long that it took three texts worth. I explained what had happened and that I had thought that she was angry with me. Was she?
"Noooo!" was her response. "Of course I'm not! I didn't realize you hadn't got my messages, that's all. Are you at the pub now?"
I replied and told her that I was (how many texts was it now? I lost count**) and asked (again) for reassurance that she wasn't angry with me.
Of course not, she said. In fact, it was I that should be angry with her, because of being messed around.
No no, I replied. Not angry at all.
So neither of us were. Thank God, thank God.
We arranged to meet at the same place at 6pm on the 8th, she told me that Nathan was looking forward to meeting me, I responded in kind, and that was that. Done and dusted.
So that left me sat in the pub with half a glass of fizzy pop and a stunned expression on my face, feeling very foolish indeed.
Why did I DO that? Must I always overreact? Why can't I simply go with the flow and let things just BE, rather than tying myself up in panicked knots? Oh, I'm such a berk...
In my defense, it's coming up to that special time of the month (...you know...) and my hormones are all over the place. Can that be used in mitigation?
Ah well. Anyway. Everybody's happy now. And the washing is very nearly dry after half a day in the sunshine. So there you go. =shrugs= Happy happy.
Alice x
* I know it saves time and that pretty much everybody does it but me, but I detest the so-called 'text speak', I really do. "L.O.L" is one of the only ones, if not THE only one, I can stand. Abbreviations, I can understand: writing Thurs. instead of Thursday for instance, to save space and or time. But this seemingly unstoppable wave of manglization of the English language brought about by mobile phones and the internet is beyond the pale, it really is. Even The Grandpapa does it.
...And yes; I am aware that 'manglization' is not a word. But it's better than, say, 'LMAO' or 'CRE8'. Right?? Right.
** I may detest text speak, but not texts themselves. Much cheaper and more efficient (when the damn things work) than phoning someone. Particularly during a long and drawn out conversation. And particularly if, like me, you pay a nominal amount per month and in exchange can send a ton of the things for free. I get 5,000 a month, and long chats with Best Friend 3 not withstanding (she is the only one I end up sending lots in one go. Everybody else it's two or so per time. If that. Usually one), I barely use a tenth of that. My record so far is 300 in 28 days. Usually it's 200. A lot, but nowhere near 5,000.
...And yes, I know that if I pay a contracted amount every month (£8!), the texts and/or calls are not really "free", but it works out a heck of a lot cheaper than if I were to manually top up; a heck of a lot. So much so that they practically are. To use the full 5,000 (which, ok, I don't, but I COULD, if I wanted to) it works out at .16th of a penny per text. And for 300 minutes worth of call time it's .2667th of a penny a minute (again, I don't generally use a tenth of that, but again; I COULD); which isn't bad at all. Particularly considering that on Pay As You Go, texts cost an average of 15p each (each!) and calls can work out anything up to around 75p a minute.
See? I know what I'm talking about. Make every penny of every last thing count, is my motto.
I'm what is known as a Budgeting Master.
...Or anally retentive and needlessly pedantic.
It depends on who you talk to. But either way, as the yanks would say: "I Rock".
Saturday, 25 May 2013
Happiness Is...
...A good long walk, a new toy, a quick cuddle and a freshly laundered cover for your bed.
If you are a dog, that is.
Right now, Bingo is snoring away in blissful contentment. Life is just grand.
That is all.
Alice xxx
...Actually, come to think of it; the above items probably describe happiness for the majority of humans as well. It does for me, certainly.
Interesting. =nods=
Okay. That really is all. I've got singing practice to do.
Tara-a-bit.
xxx
If you are a dog, that is.
Right now, Bingo is snoring away in blissful contentment. Life is just grand.
That is all.
Alice xxx
...Actually, come to think of it; the above items probably describe happiness for the majority of humans as well. It does for me, certainly.
Interesting. =nods=
Okay. That really is all. I've got singing practice to do.
Tara-a-bit.
xxx
Friday, 24 May 2013
Yesterday Was Interesting -
- in that I did three things that I have never done before. Little things, small and inconsequencial things, perhaps, but still things that I had never done before. And in public, as well. Which is big. For me, who thanks to a few schoolhood experiences along with dealings with psychotic/evil neighbours (long story) and my brother (an even longer story), has a fear of doing anything that would cause anybody to take notice of her. Very big.
Anyway, onto the Things.
Thing 1 was that I walked down a public street in a busy part of town reading a book.
It was called The Birthday; I had just borrowed it, along with two others (The Yips and The Finkler Question, if you're interested) from the library, and was eager to get into it immediately. So I did. Then and there.
I had never walked and read at the same time before; firstly because my depth perception is none-to-clever at the best of times (truly. I'm terrible. It's a genuine condition, apparently; has a name and everything) meaning that I would most likely at some point stride straight into a lamppost or over the verge of a canal. And secondly and most importantly because I didn't want anybody to stare at me and think me foolish, or worse. But yesterday when the temptation struck me, instead of regretfully stuffing the book(s) into my bag and forgetting about it, I obeyed the pleading of my Little Inner 'WANT' Person, opened the book up on the first page and then gamely strolled on.
And you know what? Nothing bad happened. I didn't slam into anything or anybody - mostly due to the fact that I was walking at slower than a slow crawl and that every animate object around me saw that I was paying my surroundings no attention whatsoever and hightailed it out of the way - and if anybody stared at me in a scornful fashion, I was unaware of it. In fact, two different people stopped me and asked me, politely, what book I was reading and whether it was any good. One of them gleefully declared that she would order a copy from Amazon. I smiled and carried on, glad that I could have been of service.
By the time I got home I had read three chapters - a ten minute walk from the library. My word, I was walking slowly - and felt possibly unjustifiably but still definitely extremely satisfied.
So that was thing 1.
Things 2 and 3 were joined together, but I believe they both have merit as separate occasions.
It started after the choir rehearsal had finished. I was striding home - as quickly as possible this time; it was rather damp and very windy and cold - and just happened to glance to the right of me at exactly the right time to see a sign emblazoned in the window of our little local Domino's Pizza branch that stopped me in my tracks.
"PERSONAL DEAL FOR 1!" it shouted in big neon red letters: "PERSONAL PIZZA WITH ANY TWO TOPPINGS, DIP AND CAN OF DRINK; £2.99! PICK UP ONLY! GO ON! TREAT YOURSELF!"
I read it three times before deciding that yes, actually, I would 'treat myself', and went inside. I had ordered from the company before (many times, at one point) but not since my ill-fated romance with Mike ended six years before, and definitely not in this way. Anonymously over the phone - with my skinny as an anorexic rake boyfriend answering the door to collect and pay - sure, no problem. But me, shy, fat old me, going into the store itself, alone, to look a (probably skinny) person in the eye and order something that was obviously just for me? Nooooo.
But I did. Yes indeed, I did. I looked the (yes, skinny) person straight in the eye and clearly and without shame ordered a cheese and tomato with sausage and pepperoni (loves me meat, I do, oh yes!), a barbecue dip and a can of Coca-Cola (yes, full sugar). Then I sat down on the little metal bench in full view of the window and any passers by to wait for it to be cooked. Which led neatly to Thing 3. Because I decided that the very best thing that I could do while I waited for my food, having only my choir music with me and no other distraction, was to practice reading aloud the words to the two songs that I was struggling with; one in German and one in French.
Picture me, sat in all my overweight glory in full view of anybody that cared to glance, on a metal bench in a fast food restaurant, wearing my old blue raincoat, my hair messed up by the wind, various Domino's Pizza employees inches away in an open kitchen directly to my right, reading aloud in German (which despite three years and my best efforts in high school, I do not speak) from an uncomfortably large and heavy Madrigals and Partsongs manuscript perched on my lap. Great fun.
I practiced each verse three times, unabashed by the fact that if I could hear every sound and hushed conversation coming from the kitchen then everybody in the kitchen could most definitely hear me, loud and clear; not to mention the customers popping in and out to collect meals they had pre-ordered by phone. Then I decided to move onto the next song and began chanting in French (which I also do not speak). And to make matters even less embarrassing, I decided to start singing it.
Yep. Me, in all my disheveled glory, with my nose in a gigantic green book, singing in my nice, clear, loud voice, in French. It was most likely quite a sight. And sound.
Thankfully for anybody that may have been listening, my name was called a few minutes later and I left, after cheerfully thanking the bemused employee that handed me the bag containing my food, still singing.
Five minutes later I let myself into the house and curled up with an episode of New Tricks to enjoy my well deserved feast.
It was absolutely delicious.
So what d'you think? All these little, inconsequencial things that I suddenly find myself doing (there have been quite a few more of them; I just found those three to be a little more noteworthy than the others) all of a sudden and unexpectedly without caring what people may think of me: a sign of growing empowerment and self ease, or confident steps on a continuous and definite downward spiral into insanity?
Or both?
The jury is out. Join in if you will.
Alice xxx
Anyway, onto the Things.
Thing 1 was that I walked down a public street in a busy part of town reading a book.
It was called The Birthday; I had just borrowed it, along with two others (The Yips and The Finkler Question, if you're interested) from the library, and was eager to get into it immediately. So I did. Then and there.
I had never walked and read at the same time before; firstly because my depth perception is none-to-clever at the best of times (truly. I'm terrible. It's a genuine condition, apparently; has a name and everything) meaning that I would most likely at some point stride straight into a lamppost or over the verge of a canal. And secondly and most importantly because I didn't want anybody to stare at me and think me foolish, or worse. But yesterday when the temptation struck me, instead of regretfully stuffing the book(s) into my bag and forgetting about it, I obeyed the pleading of my Little Inner 'WANT' Person, opened the book up on the first page and then gamely strolled on.
And you know what? Nothing bad happened. I didn't slam into anything or anybody - mostly due to the fact that I was walking at slower than a slow crawl and that every animate object around me saw that I was paying my surroundings no attention whatsoever and hightailed it out of the way - and if anybody stared at me in a scornful fashion, I was unaware of it. In fact, two different people stopped me and asked me, politely, what book I was reading and whether it was any good. One of them gleefully declared that she would order a copy from Amazon. I smiled and carried on, glad that I could have been of service.
By the time I got home I had read three chapters - a ten minute walk from the library. My word, I was walking slowly - and felt possibly unjustifiably but still definitely extremely satisfied.
So that was thing 1.
Things 2 and 3 were joined together, but I believe they both have merit as separate occasions.
It started after the choir rehearsal had finished. I was striding home - as quickly as possible this time; it was rather damp and very windy and cold - and just happened to glance to the right of me at exactly the right time to see a sign emblazoned in the window of our little local Domino's Pizza branch that stopped me in my tracks.
"PERSONAL DEAL FOR 1!" it shouted in big neon red letters: "PERSONAL PIZZA WITH ANY TWO TOPPINGS, DIP AND CAN OF DRINK; £2.99! PICK UP ONLY! GO ON! TREAT YOURSELF!"
I read it three times before deciding that yes, actually, I would 'treat myself', and went inside. I had ordered from the company before (many times, at one point) but not since my ill-fated romance with Mike ended six years before, and definitely not in this way. Anonymously over the phone - with my skinny as an anorexic rake boyfriend answering the door to collect and pay - sure, no problem. But me, shy, fat old me, going into the store itself, alone, to look a (probably skinny) person in the eye and order something that was obviously just for me? Nooooo.
But I did. Yes indeed, I did. I looked the (yes, skinny) person straight in the eye and clearly and without shame ordered a cheese and tomato with sausage and pepperoni (loves me meat, I do, oh yes!), a barbecue dip and a can of Coca-Cola (yes, full sugar). Then I sat down on the little metal bench in full view of the window and any passers by to wait for it to be cooked. Which led neatly to Thing 3. Because I decided that the very best thing that I could do while I waited for my food, having only my choir music with me and no other distraction, was to practice reading aloud the words to the two songs that I was struggling with; one in German and one in French.
Picture me, sat in all my overweight glory in full view of anybody that cared to glance, on a metal bench in a fast food restaurant, wearing my old blue raincoat, my hair messed up by the wind, various Domino's Pizza employees inches away in an open kitchen directly to my right, reading aloud in German (which despite three years and my best efforts in high school, I do not speak) from an uncomfortably large and heavy Madrigals and Partsongs manuscript perched on my lap. Great fun.
I practiced each verse three times, unabashed by the fact that if I could hear every sound and hushed conversation coming from the kitchen then everybody in the kitchen could most definitely hear me, loud and clear; not to mention the customers popping in and out to collect meals they had pre-ordered by phone. Then I decided to move onto the next song and began chanting in French (which I also do not speak). And to make matters even less embarrassing, I decided to start singing it.
Yep. Me, in all my disheveled glory, with my nose in a gigantic green book, singing in my nice, clear, loud voice, in French. It was most likely quite a sight. And sound.
Thankfully for anybody that may have been listening, my name was called a few minutes later and I left, after cheerfully thanking the bemused employee that handed me the bag containing my food, still singing.
Five minutes later I let myself into the house and curled up with an episode of New Tricks to enjoy my well deserved feast.
It was absolutely delicious.
So what d'you think? All these little, inconsequencial things that I suddenly find myself doing (there have been quite a few more of them; I just found those three to be a little more noteworthy than the others) all of a sudden and unexpectedly without caring what people may think of me: a sign of growing empowerment and self ease, or confident steps on a continuous and definite downward spiral into insanity?
Or both?
The jury is out. Join in if you will.
Alice xxx
Wednesday, 22 May 2013
Feeling Shit*, So -
- to tide my adoring fans over until I feel up to posting properly (hi fan! =waves=), here is a funny snippet from a conversation held between Best Friend 1 and myself on the way to Just Play yesterday morning:
BEST FRIEND 1: (explaining) ...and they have a trampoline, too. It's brilliant; Squidgum loves it.
ALICE: (cheerfully) this is going to be such fun. I'll enjoy watching the two of you play.
BEST FRIEND 1: (scornfully) 'watch'?? You've got to be kidding! You come to Just Play, you don't 'watch'. You join in. Those are the rules. You can't just sit there doing nothing. You have to play, too.
ALICE: (raises eyebrows) oh no, nothing doing. I am not designed for climbing and I am certainly not dressed for it. In any case, YOU - if you recall - YOU are the one that decided to have a kid, Best Friend 1, not me. Therefore YOU get to 'play' with Squidgum and make an arse of yourself, while I, childless and fancy free; I get to watch. And laugh.
BEST FRIEND 1: (defeated sigh) fair enough.
ALICE: (evil grin) this is going to be such fun...
* ongoing saga. It's a feeling that crops up every now and again and takes over for a while; just a nice little reminder that even after nearly six years my damned broken heart is refusing to heal. Ancient history - or at least it should be - and a long, long, pitiful and pathetic story. Trust me. You don't want to know.
BEST FRIEND 1: (explaining) ...and they have a trampoline, too. It's brilliant; Squidgum loves it.
ALICE: (cheerfully) this is going to be such fun. I'll enjoy watching the two of you play.
BEST FRIEND 1: (scornfully) 'watch'?? You've got to be kidding! You come to Just Play, you don't 'watch'. You join in. Those are the rules. You can't just sit there doing nothing. You have to play, too.
ALICE: (raises eyebrows) oh no, nothing doing. I am not designed for climbing and I am certainly not dressed for it. In any case, YOU - if you recall - YOU are the one that decided to have a kid, Best Friend 1, not me. Therefore YOU get to 'play' with Squidgum and make an arse of yourself, while I, childless and fancy free; I get to watch. And laugh.
BEST FRIEND 1: (defeated sigh) fair enough.
ALICE: (evil grin) this is going to be such fun...
* ongoing saga. It's a feeling that crops up every now and again and takes over for a while; just a nice little reminder that even after nearly six years my damned broken heart is refusing to heal. Ancient history - or at least it should be - and a long, long, pitiful and pathetic story. Trust me. You don't want to know.
Tuesday, 21 May 2013
Last Post Today, I Promise!
I have been avoiding it all day so far, but at 3:30 Alice shall get off her arse and commence with the housework. That'll give me a full hour to get the basics over with, leaving me with something that looks quite passable (so long as you don't look too closely).
...
...
...or maybe I'll start at 4. That'll give me time to do the vacuuming and I'll leave the wiping etc. till tomorrow.
That might work just as well.
...
...
...but I most definitely will do some housework of some description today before I set off with Bingo to my Aunt's. I will. Absolutely. I won't leave having done nothing. Nope. I will do something.
Yep.
= nods=
Yep.
...
...
...or maybe I'll start at 4. That'll give me time to do the vacuuming and I'll leave the wiping etc. till tomorrow.
That might work just as well.
...
...
...but I most definitely will do some housework of some description today before I set off with Bingo to my Aunt's. I will. Absolutely. I won't leave having done nothing. Nope. I will do something.
Yep.
= nods=
Yep.
Seeing As I'm At A Lose End Right Now -
- and am trying to ignore the beguiling whispers coming from the vacuum and mop (they're in it together, I swear. It's a conspiracy to get me to commit cleaning), I thought I'd post some answers and one or two questions in response to a comment left by the illustrious Eli:
* Tara is Alice's other name. It's short for Tara-a-bit, meaning Good-Bye. Don't ask me why. Just does.
* Turkish delight is indeed a type of sweet. And yes, my sense of smell is somewhat...eccentric, shall we say.
- And yes, my vacuum bag DID need changing.
* Yes, prison building is expensive, but I think it's also necessary. After all, whether you believe in punishment, rehabilitation or both (both, in my case), the one thing that is certain is that there are people out there that the general populace need to be protected from. And if you're not going to kill 'em*, you need instead to lock 'em up. So I'm all in favour of any taxes I pay going towards that.
More so than I am toward building nuclear bombs to blow the planet up, anyway (but that's a rant for another time).
...As for the other; I think there needs to be less News publicized in general, really. Various members of my family disagree, siting that they like to know what's going on and therefore what's coming, but me? Nah. I'm happier in blissful ignorance.
There's a lot to be said for ignorance. I don't think that it is rated enough.
* I am indeed a lucky girl to have so many lovely woodland parks nearby to where I live, but; you don't get many pigeons over there? Seriously? How weird! I can't picture it.
- Question; is it true that several states in America are overrun by starlings?
* Bingo hasn't actually knocked me over (yet). He's come close to it many times though, and I have been sent arse over tit by various other members of the Doggy Population; the most notable and painful being caused by a pure bred black German Shepherd named Muffin. My leg was so badly sprained that somebody had to give me a lift home and I had to take a week off work to recover. It was years ago, but I still get twinges in my calf every now and again.
- Funny yet slightly unnerving side story; Bingo once savagely attacked my shoulder bag after I slipped over on a patch of ice. He was alarmed that I had fallen down and seemed hurt - I was fine, just shaken - and decided that it was the bag's fault, and well, it didn't survive. He tore it to shreds.
* Mother agrees with you that Evil exists (though I'm still on the fence. I'm not certain I explained it well. Or whether indeed I can), but I disagree that you are not clever and unenlightened.
- You are Green though, definitely. A Greener Bodied Person I have never before met.
* Oh come on! Doctor Who is great (or at least some of it is)! Read up, learn, and enjoy: http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b006q2x0
- I'm a fan of most forms of fiction, to be honest, both written and view-able . For televised Sci Fi, I'm more a fan of the Twilight Zone, than Doctor Who, though . And as for Sci Fi books, well. You can't beat John Wyndham in my opinion.
You can find out about either of those (if you care to and don't know already) here:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Wyndham
and here:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Twilight_Zone_(franchise)
(God, I love wikipedia)
- Another question: what books/shows do you like?
* ok, so it's just me. Fine. I don't care. =sniffs=
Still think they're cute. =grins=
You'd hate it here right now; There are loads of them dotted around. Along with dozens and dozens of diddy baby snails with diddy baby snail shells. Aw.
- No mass frog migration yet, though. Shouldn't be too long now. Usually it's no later than early June.
Tara, from Alice xxx
* I disagree with the death penalty on the grounds that it is impossible for any justice system humans devise to be infallible and therefore impossible to ever be 100% sure that a person is guilty. 99.9% sure, maybe, but not 100%, and unless it's 100%, there is always room for doubt. A comparably massive amount of doubt. Bad enough that innocent people be released sometimes years and years after being incarcerated with a grovelling apology and in some cases - rightly - a shed load of money; it's even worse - in fact, unthinkable - when the poor person has been executed and the only course open is to say "whoops".
- And furthermore I will add to any dissenters that may be reading this; you may disagree with me and are perfectly free and encouraged to say so on here if you wish, but please don't try and argue with me or make me change my mind, because trust me; on this issue I wont. You are entitled to your opinion just as I am to mine, and that is how it will stay. Thank you.
xxx
* Tara is Alice's other name. It's short for Tara-a-bit, meaning Good-Bye. Don't ask me why. Just does.
* Turkish delight is indeed a type of sweet. And yes, my sense of smell is somewhat...eccentric, shall we say.
- And yes, my vacuum bag DID need changing.
* Yes, prison building is expensive, but I think it's also necessary. After all, whether you believe in punishment, rehabilitation or both (both, in my case), the one thing that is certain is that there are people out there that the general populace need to be protected from. And if you're not going to kill 'em*, you need instead to lock 'em up. So I'm all in favour of any taxes I pay going towards that.
More so than I am toward building nuclear bombs to blow the planet up, anyway (but that's a rant for another time).
...As for the other; I think there needs to be less News publicized in general, really. Various members of my family disagree, siting that they like to know what's going on and therefore what's coming, but me? Nah. I'm happier in blissful ignorance.
There's a lot to be said for ignorance. I don't think that it is rated enough.
* I am indeed a lucky girl to have so many lovely woodland parks nearby to where I live, but; you don't get many pigeons over there? Seriously? How weird! I can't picture it.
- Question; is it true that several states in America are overrun by starlings?
* Bingo hasn't actually knocked me over (yet). He's come close to it many times though, and I have been sent arse over tit by various other members of the Doggy Population; the most notable and painful being caused by a pure bred black German Shepherd named Muffin. My leg was so badly sprained that somebody had to give me a lift home and I had to take a week off work to recover. It was years ago, but I still get twinges in my calf every now and again.
- Funny yet slightly unnerving side story; Bingo once savagely attacked my shoulder bag after I slipped over on a patch of ice. He was alarmed that I had fallen down and seemed hurt - I was fine, just shaken - and decided that it was the bag's fault, and well, it didn't survive. He tore it to shreds.
* Mother agrees with you that Evil exists (though I'm still on the fence. I'm not certain I explained it well. Or whether indeed I can), but I disagree that you are not clever and unenlightened.
- You are Green though, definitely. A Greener Bodied Person I have never before met.
* Oh come on! Doctor Who is great (or at least some of it is)! Read up, learn, and enjoy: http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b006q2x0
- I'm a fan of most forms of fiction, to be honest, both written and view-able . For televised Sci Fi, I'm more a fan of the Twilight Zone, than Doctor Who, though . And as for Sci Fi books, well. You can't beat John Wyndham in my opinion.
You can find out about either of those (if you care to and don't know already) here:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Wyndham
and here:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Twilight_Zone_(franchise)
(God, I love wikipedia)
- Another question: what books/shows do you like?
* ok, so it's just me. Fine. I don't care. =sniffs=
Still think they're cute. =grins=
You'd hate it here right now; There are loads of them dotted around. Along with dozens and dozens of diddy baby snails with diddy baby snail shells. Aw.
- No mass frog migration yet, though. Shouldn't be too long now. Usually it's no later than early June.
Tara, from Alice xxx
* I disagree with the death penalty on the grounds that it is impossible for any justice system humans devise to be infallible and therefore impossible to ever be 100% sure that a person is guilty. 99.9% sure, maybe, but not 100%, and unless it's 100%, there is always room for doubt. A comparably massive amount of doubt. Bad enough that innocent people be released sometimes years and years after being incarcerated with a grovelling apology and in some cases - rightly - a shed load of money; it's even worse - in fact, unthinkable - when the poor person has been executed and the only course open is to say "whoops".
- And furthermore I will add to any dissenters that may be reading this; you may disagree with me and are perfectly free and encouraged to say so on here if you wish, but please don't try and argue with me or make me change my mind, because trust me; on this issue I wont. You are entitled to your opinion just as I am to mine, and that is how it will stay. Thank you.
xxx
A Pleasant Morning.
As I staggered out of B&Q this morning, exhausted and drenched with sweat (big girl + 3 hours worth of vigorous cleaning = Not A Pretty Sight) my mobile phone bleeped and I found that I had received a text from Best Friend 1: would I care to join her and Squidgum at 'Just Play*' for a couple of hours?
"Sure" said I, breezily; "just give me an hour or so to wash and change and I'll be right with you."
At 10:15 we met at Tesco Cafe and downed our customary choice of drink - her tea, me the bane of health freaks everywhere: Pepsi - before setting off in the direction of Just Play. It was a pleasant walk, chatting and laughing about nothing in particular; the kind of walk that you don't mind where you're going or how long it will take. Thirty minutes later we bumped the pushchair through the double doors, signed ourselves in, released Squidgum from her sumptuous Maclaren prison, and walked into a wonderland. There was an area with a bouncy castle - unfortunately recently deflated; they're doing away with it in favour of bumper cars apparently. Idiots - and a large space with tables and chairs dotted around it, and then, just a little further back, Child Heaven lay. Climbing frames, ball pits (plural!) slides, tunnels, rope ladders, squidgy steps, giant bean bags...you name it, it was there. There was even a splendid round based cannon from which you could launch plastic balls several feet into the air.
So! Shoes off, bags and pushchair dumped, doll dropped like a stone, and we were off. Or rather, on.
I, fat and unfit and dressed - wisely - in a skirt and barefoot having - equally wisely - turned up not only skirted but wearing sandals, gamely joined in for a while, clambering labouriously up to level 1 - there were FIVE different levels; how cool is that? - and squeaking my way in an incredibly undignified fashion (why oh why did I decide to wear a skirt?? It's not as if I was unaware that we were going...) down the only non-enclosed and non twisty slide a few times. Then I took a step back and watched Best Friend 1 and Squidgum have the time of their lives. Up and down and round and round they went, trying every thing in every way possible. It was great to see, as well as incredibly funny; especially the huge yellow slide - the only one I had been brave enough to try - as I had a clear and unobstructed view of them whizzing their way down in various positions. I formed the opinion that Best Friend 1 was having more fun than the toddler, a theory that she cheerfully confirmed after a particularly spectacular zoom headfirst down the slide that ended with a breathtaking slam into the wall (most kids fell short of reaching that, thankfully, though it was squashy just in case).
After a few more tentative forays up the ladder and down the slide - having mastered the art of tucking my skirt in just so, allowing me to actually slide down rather than squeakily shove myself inch by inch. I did screech to a halt a few inches from the bottom though, forcing me to heave myself off of it and then clamber to my feet trying to shield my modesty from the curious gaze of two-four year old's (why must they stare??) - both Best Friend 1 and I collapsed into chairs to get our breath back under the clever guise of allowing Squidgum to eat lunch. But it wasn't long before she was off again, dragging us - or rather her mum with me hanging back to watch and drink another glass of Pepsi - back into the fray again.
Glancing casually at the clock, it was a surprise to find that nearly two hours had past and that we only had a few more minutes worth of playtime left before Best Friend 1 had to go home to get ready for work**.
Squidgum took our departure in her stride. She did have a bit of a paddy when she realized that yes, mummy actually DID mean it when she said "one last go" and caught her up and plopped her onto her lap to put her shoes back on, but it didn't last very long, especially once her doll was back in her arms and she realized that going outside meant having her little backpack on***. So we left, a little regretfully on the part of the adults, and began the trek home.
Thirty minutes later, we hugged and parted company, and I walked away with a happy glow inside of me.
And as I sit here now typing this, almost two hours later again, it's still there.
Gosh, today was nice.
* A children's playground/indoor park type area. For £3 per child you get a free hot drink and an unlimited stay. Great value if you care to use it.
** cleaning like me; two hours a week. It brings in practically nothing, but aids her sanity, so it's worth it.
*** Reigns, designed to contain antsy children that enjoy running off and keep them safe while still allowing them a bit of freedom, are coming back into fashion. Now, though, rather than a plain old harness, they generally come in the form of a diddy little backpack for the kidlet to wear. Grand, eh?
"Sure" said I, breezily; "just give me an hour or so to wash and change and I'll be right with you."
At 10:15 we met at Tesco Cafe and downed our customary choice of drink - her tea, me the bane of health freaks everywhere: Pepsi - before setting off in the direction of Just Play. It was a pleasant walk, chatting and laughing about nothing in particular; the kind of walk that you don't mind where you're going or how long it will take. Thirty minutes later we bumped the pushchair through the double doors, signed ourselves in, released Squidgum from her sumptuous Maclaren prison, and walked into a wonderland. There was an area with a bouncy castle - unfortunately recently deflated; they're doing away with it in favour of bumper cars apparently. Idiots - and a large space with tables and chairs dotted around it, and then, just a little further back, Child Heaven lay. Climbing frames, ball pits (plural!) slides, tunnels, rope ladders, squidgy steps, giant bean bags...you name it, it was there. There was even a splendid round based cannon from which you could launch plastic balls several feet into the air.
So! Shoes off, bags and pushchair dumped, doll dropped like a stone, and we were off. Or rather, on.
I, fat and unfit and dressed - wisely - in a skirt and barefoot having - equally wisely - turned up not only skirted but wearing sandals, gamely joined in for a while, clambering labouriously up to level 1 - there were FIVE different levels; how cool is that? - and squeaking my way in an incredibly undignified fashion (why oh why did I decide to wear a skirt?? It's not as if I was unaware that we were going...) down the only non-enclosed and non twisty slide a few times. Then I took a step back and watched Best Friend 1 and Squidgum have the time of their lives. Up and down and round and round they went, trying every thing in every way possible. It was great to see, as well as incredibly funny; especially the huge yellow slide - the only one I had been brave enough to try - as I had a clear and unobstructed view of them whizzing their way down in various positions. I formed the opinion that Best Friend 1 was having more fun than the toddler, a theory that she cheerfully confirmed after a particularly spectacular zoom headfirst down the slide that ended with a breathtaking slam into the wall (most kids fell short of reaching that, thankfully, though it was squashy just in case).
After a few more tentative forays up the ladder and down the slide - having mastered the art of tucking my skirt in just so, allowing me to actually slide down rather than squeakily shove myself inch by inch. I did screech to a halt a few inches from the bottom though, forcing me to heave myself off of it and then clamber to my feet trying to shield my modesty from the curious gaze of two-four year old's (why must they stare??) - both Best Friend 1 and I collapsed into chairs to get our breath back under the clever guise of allowing Squidgum to eat lunch. But it wasn't long before she was off again, dragging us - or rather her mum with me hanging back to watch and drink another glass of Pepsi - back into the fray again.
Glancing casually at the clock, it was a surprise to find that nearly two hours had past and that we only had a few more minutes worth of playtime left before Best Friend 1 had to go home to get ready for work**.
Squidgum took our departure in her stride. She did have a bit of a paddy when she realized that yes, mummy actually DID mean it when she said "one last go" and caught her up and plopped her onto her lap to put her shoes back on, but it didn't last very long, especially once her doll was back in her arms and she realized that going outside meant having her little backpack on***. So we left, a little regretfully on the part of the adults, and began the trek home.
Thirty minutes later, we hugged and parted company, and I walked away with a happy glow inside of me.
And as I sit here now typing this, almost two hours later again, it's still there.
Gosh, today was nice.
* A children's playground/indoor park type area. For £3 per child you get a free hot drink and an unlimited stay. Great value if you care to use it.
** cleaning like me; two hours a week. It brings in practically nothing, but aids her sanity, so it's worth it.
*** Reigns, designed to contain antsy children that enjoy running off and keep them safe while still allowing them a bit of freedom, are coming back into fashion. Now, though, rather than a plain old harness, they generally come in the form of a diddy little backpack for the kidlet to wear. Grand, eh?
Saturday, 18 May 2013
Wednesday, 15 May 2013
Random Thoughts.
* The whole house smells of Turkish Delight. Either the vacuum bag needs changing, or mother has been holding out on me. I'm not sure which.
- But if it is the latter, she better divvy up, because I'm on to her. It's mean to hoard sweets and not share.
* By gum, the News is a depressing thing.
Whether local or national, whether on the television or over
the radio or within the pages of a newspaper or magazine; there is nothing
happy to be seen, nothing at all. It’s all death and disaster and pain and
fear… I stopped watching, listening and reading the damn thing for just that
reason, but every now and again I can’t help catching it, and…bleugh. Horrid, horrid, horrid.
* While on the subject of the News; sentencing for crimes
has really been buggered up (ha! ‘buggered’) in recent years. Why the hell have ‘life
sentences’ for murder that aren’t? And have sentences that finish half way
through, so that the ‘life sentence’ that isn’t becomes half of what it is actually supposed to anyway? No wonder so many people are fed up with the justice system; it’s
confusing, contradictory (six years – that actually becomes three –for a brutal
gang attack on a young woman that left the victim with lasting brain damage as apposed to the fifteen years - that is actually seven and a half - handed down for the
heinous crime of tax evasion; where is the logic in that?) and at times
seemingly downright stupid.
Get a grip, government; get it sorted, and get it right!
- Things would be SO much better if I were in charge, I’m sure
they would.
* Saw a lot of wildlife out in force in the park today.
Spring has sprung. The most notable among them were goslings closely guarded by
doting geese parents, baby coots (cootlets? cootlings?) that were a little
freer to run (or swim) amuck and a mass of insect hunting swallows performing
aerial acrobatics over the Stack Pool and nearby fields.
- I really need to start taking my binoculars out with me.
* Speaking of wildlife; I really quite like wood pigeons. Far from being pests, I find pigeons in general to be a pretty cool bird, but I like wood pigeons in particular. I think that they are cute, chubby,
sweet looking things that waddle their way through life at a measured pace that
isn’t shared by their slimmer city dwelling cousins. It’s also incredibly funny
to watch them take off and land. Once in the air they seem to be as efficient
as any other bird, but getting off of, or setting back down onto the ground;
oh, is a completely different – and hysterical – story. It’s their weight, I
think. They are such plump little creatures; totally unsuited to the rigours of
getting airborne. It takes such an effort; so much so that when you watch them
you wonder whether or not that they will manage it. As for landing; no matter
how carefully they do it, they always touch down with an ungainly “PLOP!”
Really funny.
* For reasons best known to himself, Bingo decided to try
and rugby tackle me this evening. Or at least I think that was what he was
trying to do; I can’t think of what else he might have been trying to do.
It came out of nowhere. One minute I was admiring the
blossom on a nearby tree, and the next; WHAM! He was upon me. It came as such a
jolt that I yelped “OW!” and doubled over both to rub my aching knees and
calves and to gape at my dog – now lying on my feet, his face split with a
panting grin – with unadulterated astonishment.
When I asked him, after he had jumped up and skipped around
a bit, why he had chosen to do that, his response was to walk up to me – I was
still bent over at this point – and lick my nose.
I have no clue why. And it hurt. But hey; it made him happy
so at least one of us was.
He really enjoyed himself, and right now is splayed out on
his bed snoring contentedly.
And my knee STILL hurts.
* Question: Does evil exist?
I mean, as an entity, as an actual thing. As an abstract it
does; people – and only people, seemingly – can commit ‘evil’ acts and do
‘evil’ things, but by that do we actually MEAN ‘evil’? Or do we in actual fact
mean ‘insane’? Are people ever really actually, well, bad? Or are they just
mad?
If there are any enlightened and/or clever people reading
this; that’s a question I would like answered, okay? Okay.
* I’ve been watching too much Doctor Who. While I was
walking home from Bingo’s walk I past by the children’s playground and stopped
dead as the distinct sound of The Tardis began ringing in my ears. Turning my
head, it was a mechanism on a slide. But boy; it sounded just like it, I swear.
* Is it just me that thinks baby slugs are adorable?
Friend’s 1, 2 & 3 vehemently disagree; claiming them to be “gross” and/or
“disgusting”, but I think they are. Little moist black blobs, almost circular
because they are so short, with teeny tiny antennae attached to one end; what’s
not to like? Sweet!
Or is it really just me?
And on the nice mental image of a moist, black blob; I will leave you, for I am 'to bed'.
xxx
I'm At The Library -
- and have just printed out a 'Monk'* themed card created by me using desktop publishing - as well as pictures from the internet - in honour of Aunt No. 2's upcoming 50th birthday this Thursday. And it is pretty damn nifty, if I don't say so myself.
I am very pleased with myself right now.
Go me.
xxx
* An obsessive compulsive genious detective made famous on the long running TV series of the same name. I can live without him frankly - and the rest of it - but Aunt No. 2 adores him and that's what counts, seeing as it is her birthday and hence her card.
I am very pleased with myself right now.
Go me.
xxx
* An obsessive compulsive genious detective made famous on the long running TV series of the same name. I can live without him frankly - and the rest of it - but Aunt No. 2 adores him and that's what counts, seeing as it is her birthday and hence her card.
Monday, 13 May 2013
Sunday, 12 May 2013
I've Had A Wonderful Week Off
- and I know that this is both futile and utterly childish, but:
I don't WANT to go back! I don't, I don't! It's horrible and awful and I never want to go back there, ever ever ever!
*stamps foot*
There.
That's out of my system now.
Roll on Monday...
I don't WANT to go back! I don't, I don't! It's horrible and awful and I never want to go back there, ever ever ever!
*stamps foot*
There.
That's out of my system now.
Roll on Monday...
Friday, 10 May 2013
Choir Practice Again Yesterday.
Great fun.
I've quite a few things to practice (now I have got the books, at last) over this next coming week, but that is to be expected, and anyway; it'll give me something else positive to do. Once I've gotten over my nerves at whether or not the neighbours will be able to hear my warbling, that is. That might take a little while.
Also, an interesting side note (no pun intended) is that if the inner mental niggles regarding my health don't have the power to stop my bouts of binge eating, being a member of this choir will. I can't tell you how hard it was trying to sing with my gut all bloated: my breathing was so bad that more than once I felt so dizzy that I actually saw stars. I didn't know that actually happened; seeing stars. But apparently it does.
*shrugs*
Anyway; I really DO need to sort myself out. I can't continue to routinely eat unhealthily (and in ginormous amounts) and also try and cope within the structured, regimented settings of a singing group. It just can't be done. Which strikes me as a good thing all round, because I have absolutely no intention of quitting; even if I am not very good at it (which it turns out I am not).
So we'll see how it goes.
...Ooh, and while we're still on the subject, another interesting side note is that despite all those lessons at school and doing reasonably well in my GCSE exams*, I don't actually remember a single word of German apart from "und". Oh, and the German phrase for "bless you", which I recognized but cannot spell.
We'll see how that goes, too.
Toodles.
xxx
* I got a "C". Which I (and my mother, bless her) worked very hard for, and I was incredibly chuffed with.
I've quite a few things to practice (now I have got the books, at last) over this next coming week, but that is to be expected, and anyway; it'll give me something else positive to do. Once I've gotten over my nerves at whether or not the neighbours will be able to hear my warbling, that is. That might take a little while.
Also, an interesting side note (no pun intended) is that if the inner mental niggles regarding my health don't have the power to stop my bouts of binge eating, being a member of this choir will. I can't tell you how hard it was trying to sing with my gut all bloated: my breathing was so bad that more than once I felt so dizzy that I actually saw stars. I didn't know that actually happened; seeing stars. But apparently it does.
*shrugs*
Anyway; I really DO need to sort myself out. I can't continue to routinely eat unhealthily (and in ginormous amounts) and also try and cope within the structured, regimented settings of a singing group. It just can't be done. Which strikes me as a good thing all round, because I have absolutely no intention of quitting; even if I am not very good at it (which it turns out I am not).
So we'll see how it goes.
...Ooh, and while we're still on the subject, another interesting side note is that despite all those lessons at school and doing reasonably well in my GCSE exams*, I don't actually remember a single word of German apart from "und". Oh, and the German phrase for "bless you", which I recognized but cannot spell.
We'll see how that goes, too.
Toodles.
xxx
* I got a "C". Which I (and my mother, bless her) worked very hard for, and I was incredibly chuffed with.
Wednesday, 8 May 2013
Quick Entry Before I Start Out For The Day:
I saw some of the fish that live in the Stack Pool of Spring Field Park today. Normally I don't get a chance to see them, spending much of their time as they do at the bottom of the pool or further out toward the centre of it; but today I did. There were around eight of them, ranging in size from one titchy one around three inches long to two or three that were almost as long as my entire arm, and they were all swimming and splashing about near the surface in the shallowest part of the pool by the bank. They seemed to be picking at a plant that had its foliage dangling just below the surface and I watched in awed fascination for several minutes as they feasted and a few of them began scrapping with one another over what appeared to be the optimum feeding position.
My word, most of them were so big! It was great to watch them.
Anyway. Just wanted to share that.
Toodles.
xxx xxx xxx
My word, most of them were so big! It was great to watch them.
Anyway. Just wanted to share that.
Toodles.
xxx xxx xxx
Tuesday, 7 May 2013
Well, I Was Supposed To Have An Interview Today...
...only I didn't. Or at least I couldn't. Or at least I cancelled it.
"But why, Alice?" I hear you cry. "You who are desperate for full time employment and hate your current job with a passion: why would you do that??'
Simple. Long winded. But simple.
I applied for a position.
Administrative Assistant with responsibilities in data entry and record maintaining. Great. Full time. Also great. Within 30 minute walk of Birmingham station (which is a 45 minute train ride away). Less great, but it figures that no matter what job I find, I will have to commute to it as there is nothing locally.
Two days after that, the company responded.
A-Z Interpreting and Translation Services Ltd emailed and asked: "could I please call to arrange an interview?" Fantastic! I called, immediately. Arranged an interview for Tuesday 7th May (today) at 3pm. Then, as per my usual routine on (the rare occasion of) being asked to attend an interview, I decided to travel there a few days prior to learn the way and check that the journey was practical. As it was a Saturday and she had nothing else to do, mother agreed to come with me provided that I paid for the fare and brought her lunch, conditions I agreed to readily. So off we went; hightailed it to Kidderminster station, caught a train to Birmingham Moor Street, and using the directions from Google Maps and help from passers by to get us on the right track; started walking.
And that is where the trouble began.
For upon arriving at my supposed destination we found ourselves in a street that contained private houses. And only private houses. And the address I was supposed to report to was also a private residence. A very very small private residence that had only just been sold (the FOR SALE/SOLD sign was still there) and judging by our furtive glance in through the sitting room window was devoid of furniture with the exception of one long desk, two chairs and two computers.
Dodgy. Very.
My heart sank.
On the journey home again after a super healthy lunch at a deep fried chicken eatery, I tried very hard not to get upset - and didn't succeed very well - as mother tried - a little more successfully - to comfort me, and I tried very hard to keep an open mind. After all; businesses did sometimes use private addresses to practice in rather than office buildings, and not every business was very large. There could be a perfectly simple and honest explanation as to why a translation company purporting to be large and extremely successful was operating from the unfurnished sitting room of an incredibly small looking and apparently only just purchased bungalow.
Unfortunately, when we got home and I began researching into the company more thoroughly, my suspicions weren't quashed; but rather confirmed. Two more addresses were listed on various websites as the head office of this translation company, all three of them using the same telephone and fax number and website address and all three of them small private addresses. The company's own website - which was admittedly impressive looking - waxed lyrical about how brilliant they were but gave no reference to how long they had been trading. In fact, I found no proof online at all that the company had traded at all for any length of time. They were mentioned here and there on various business lists as a company trading out of central Birmingham, but were missing from every one of the main lists of officially registered translation companies.
Upon contacting the governmental job centre via email about this (as I had found the advert for the job on their online job search site), I was given the helpful generic response that they gave information regarding vacancies as drafted to them by the recruiting employers and that it was up to me whether or not I attended any interview or meeting arranged.
I talked to everyone I could think of and they all (for varying reasons) said the same thing: DON'T GO.
I slept on it for 24 hours.
Then I made the decision I mentioned at the beginning of the post and cancelled it. Any tiny niggles I had about letting an opportunity pass me by were drowned out by the screaming of my gut: this was a trick of some kind. I wasn't sure how or why, exactly - the popular opinion is it was a scam of some kind to gain access to my bank details. Although according to The Grandmama there was every probability that it was; "a trap laid by a serial killer" - but it was something that wasn't to be trusted in. One thing I was definitely certain of was that the administrative post advertised simply did not exist. No way ho-say.
So I cancelled it. And though on that Saturday I felt terrible and the disappointment is still raw inside of me four days later (I know; you tell yourself not to get your hopes up, but...), I know I made the right choice. I know I did.
Still feel shit about it though.
I know it will pass.
But right now... ugh. *sighs*
Bedtime, I think.
Goodnight, Blog.
xxx xxx xxx
"But why, Alice?" I hear you cry. "You who are desperate for full time employment and hate your current job with a passion: why would you do that??'
Simple. Long winded. But simple.
I applied for a position.
Administrative Assistant with responsibilities in data entry and record maintaining. Great. Full time. Also great. Within 30 minute walk of Birmingham station (which is a 45 minute train ride away). Less great, but it figures that no matter what job I find, I will have to commute to it as there is nothing locally.
Two days after that, the company responded.
A-Z Interpreting and Translation Services Ltd emailed and asked: "could I please call to arrange an interview?" Fantastic! I called, immediately. Arranged an interview for Tuesday 7th May (today) at 3pm. Then, as per my usual routine on (the rare occasion of) being asked to attend an interview, I decided to travel there a few days prior to learn the way and check that the journey was practical. As it was a Saturday and she had nothing else to do, mother agreed to come with me provided that I paid for the fare and brought her lunch, conditions I agreed to readily. So off we went; hightailed it to Kidderminster station, caught a train to Birmingham Moor Street, and using the directions from Google Maps and help from passers by to get us on the right track; started walking.
And that is where the trouble began.
For upon arriving at my supposed destination we found ourselves in a street that contained private houses. And only private houses. And the address I was supposed to report to was also a private residence. A very very small private residence that had only just been sold (the FOR SALE/SOLD sign was still there) and judging by our furtive glance in through the sitting room window was devoid of furniture with the exception of one long desk, two chairs and two computers.
Dodgy. Very.
My heart sank.
On the journey home again after a super healthy lunch at a deep fried chicken eatery, I tried very hard not to get upset - and didn't succeed very well - as mother tried - a little more successfully - to comfort me, and I tried very hard to keep an open mind. After all; businesses did sometimes use private addresses to practice in rather than office buildings, and not every business was very large. There could be a perfectly simple and honest explanation as to why a translation company purporting to be large and extremely successful was operating from the unfurnished sitting room of an incredibly small looking and apparently only just purchased bungalow.
Unfortunately, when we got home and I began researching into the company more thoroughly, my suspicions weren't quashed; but rather confirmed. Two more addresses were listed on various websites as the head office of this translation company, all three of them using the same telephone and fax number and website address and all three of them small private addresses. The company's own website - which was admittedly impressive looking - waxed lyrical about how brilliant they were but gave no reference to how long they had been trading. In fact, I found no proof online at all that the company had traded at all for any length of time. They were mentioned here and there on various business lists as a company trading out of central Birmingham, but were missing from every one of the main lists of officially registered translation companies.
Upon contacting the governmental job centre via email about this (as I had found the advert for the job on their online job search site), I was given the helpful generic response that they gave information regarding vacancies as drafted to them by the recruiting employers and that it was up to me whether or not I attended any interview or meeting arranged.
I talked to everyone I could think of and they all (for varying reasons) said the same thing: DON'T GO.
I slept on it for 24 hours.
Then I made the decision I mentioned at the beginning of the post and cancelled it. Any tiny niggles I had about letting an opportunity pass me by were drowned out by the screaming of my gut: this was a trick of some kind. I wasn't sure how or why, exactly - the popular opinion is it was a scam of some kind to gain access to my bank details. Although according to The Grandmama there was every probability that it was; "a trap laid by a serial killer" - but it was something that wasn't to be trusted in. One thing I was definitely certain of was that the administrative post advertised simply did not exist. No way ho-say.
So I cancelled it. And though on that Saturday I felt terrible and the disappointment is still raw inside of me four days later (I know; you tell yourself not to get your hopes up, but...), I know I made the right choice. I know I did.
Still feel shit about it though.
I know it will pass.
But right now... ugh. *sighs*
Bedtime, I think.
Goodnight, Blog.
xxx xxx xxx
Sunday, 5 May 2013
It's Sunday 5th May! At last!
Well Blog, as of this moment in time I feel pretty damn good; because at precisely 11am this morning, I logged out after my four hour shift and my holiday officially began. I have the next 7 days off.
My plans for these magical 7, work free days vary from day to day. From luxuriously decadent sleep-ins till 8am (at the earliest) to meals out and/or outings with friends and family to walking Bingo whenever I feel like it to curling up in front of the TV to watch something I wouldn't normally be able to; I plan to partake in it all. Because from Monday through to Monday, I do not have to get up at 5am and drag myself down to a place I loathe to work with people I loathe even more. For one whole week, I am free.
Whee!
- Also, as I had the house to myself for a few hours this afternoon, I took the opportunity to vacuum my way through and afterwards made up a batch of my version of bolognaise sauce. I do it in bulk, making three good sized double servings worth that can be frozen and then reheated when the occasion calls for it (we generally have it once a week), and oh; I do love cooking it. So simple, so easy and ever so tasty. It's mother's very favourite meal, and as it's ready made in advance all I have to do is bung a bowl worth into the microwave for three to five minutes after boiling up some pasta. Grand.
Happy happy.
Toodles.
xxx xxx xxx
My plans for these magical 7, work free days vary from day to day. From luxuriously decadent sleep-ins till 8am (at the earliest) to meals out and/or outings with friends and family to walking Bingo whenever I feel like it to curling up in front of the TV to watch something I wouldn't normally be able to; I plan to partake in it all. Because from Monday through to Monday, I do not have to get up at 5am and drag myself down to a place I loathe to work with people I loathe even more. For one whole week, I am free.
Whee!
- Also, as I had the house to myself for a few hours this afternoon, I took the opportunity to vacuum my way through and afterwards made up a batch of my version of bolognaise sauce. I do it in bulk, making three good sized double servings worth that can be frozen and then reheated when the occasion calls for it (we generally have it once a week), and oh; I do love cooking it. So simple, so easy and ever so tasty. It's mother's very favourite meal, and as it's ready made in advance all I have to do is bung a bowl worth into the microwave for three to five minutes after boiling up some pasta. Grand.
Happy happy.
Toodles.
xxx xxx xxx
Thursday, 2 May 2013
Oy.
Was just involved in a conversation-via-text with The Brother.
He had contacted me to see how I was, you see. With both my back playing up and my body having caught a bug of some kind, I have been out of action since 8:30 yesterday morning. I had to actually leave work half an hour early - I couldn't even last 30 more minutes - and I've called in sick today, and now; well, I'm out of pocket (or will be, to the tune of around £23) and tired and achy and icky stomached and generally feeling sorry for myself. So it was nice to get a text asking how I was.
Anyways, I told him, and he immediately responded with an offer to drop off a DVD that I've been wanting to see to cheer me up. Sweet, but no thanks, I said; it was a nice idea, but I wanted to watch that with him. And in any case, I didn't want him to catch the bug.
So, five minutes later; he texts and asks if I can lend him money (£5) till next week. To which I answered "no" as I don't have any spare (which is true). After that, not a peep from him.
Yep. That's my Brother alright.
Oy.
He had contacted me to see how I was, you see. With both my back playing up and my body having caught a bug of some kind, I have been out of action since 8:30 yesterday morning. I had to actually leave work half an hour early - I couldn't even last 30 more minutes - and I've called in sick today, and now; well, I'm out of pocket (or will be, to the tune of around £23) and tired and achy and icky stomached and generally feeling sorry for myself. So it was nice to get a text asking how I was.
Anyways, I told him, and he immediately responded with an offer to drop off a DVD that I've been wanting to see to cheer me up. Sweet, but no thanks, I said; it was a nice idea, but I wanted to watch that with him. And in any case, I didn't want him to catch the bug.
So, five minutes later; he texts and asks if I can lend him money (£5) till next week. To which I answered "no" as I don't have any spare (which is true). After that, not a peep from him.
Yep. That's my Brother alright.
Oy.
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