I had the opportunity to witness the following three things:
1) My dog shying away from a lowering security gate (that was nowhere near him) like a frightened colt
2) An incredibly drunken man trying three to pronounce the word "beautiful" (again in reference to the dog) then giving up and saying "God bless you both" before meandering off in a slow but determined slalom around things that only he could see
and
3) a drug deal take place between two grungy looking teenagers wearing stereotypical tracksuit bottoms and hooded jacket and a well attired clean shaven middle-aged man in a suit
all within the space of five minutes.
...It got quite boring after that, unfortunately.
Alice x
Monday, 27 January 2014
Sunday, 26 January 2014
I Know This Is Bitchy. I Know This Is (In The Grand Scheme Of Things) Petty & Unimportant, But:
I shouldn't have to fucking HIDE my food and drink in my own home just in case my brother sees it and decides to take it.
That is all.
Alice x
P.S. in case anybody is wondering; the reason that there is no confrontation regarding the continuous theft is because no matter how he reacts, the only certain result is that my mother will be dreadfully upset.
P.P.S. I ALSO can't stand the sounds he makes, particularly when he eats (which is what is happening right now). I'm trying to think of a way to describe it, but I can't. The closest I can come up with is 'gross'.
That is all.
Alice x
P.S. in case anybody is wondering; the reason that there is no confrontation regarding the continuous theft is because no matter how he reacts, the only certain result is that my mother will be dreadfully upset.
P.P.S. I ALSO can't stand the sounds he makes, particularly when he eats (which is what is happening right now). I'm trying to think of a way to describe it, but I can't. The closest I can come up with is 'gross'.
Thursday, 23 January 2014
Not That I'm Impatiently Counting The Days Or Anything, But...
... Just two more shifts to go until I'm free of that dratted place for a week.
Thank you.
That is all.
=bows. walks off=
Alice x
Thank you.
That is all.
=bows. walks off=
Alice x
Wednesday, 22 January 2014
LET THERE BE LIGHT (And Other January Musings):
* Today I fitted new batteries to Bingo's Flashy Thing (technical term for the little light that clips onto his collar and blinks on and off). I'd been putting it off because I was worried that it wouldn't work. You see, I am very fond of the Flashy Thing; it means that even though it is dark by 5-PM, I can conduct the second walk of the day - the one I do - in the evening, savouring the brisk air and safe in the knowledge that my beloved dog is visible to me at all times (that way I know what the cunning bugger is up to).
Anyway, I needn't have worried, because it worked. Flashy Thing is good as new. The evening winter walk has been saved. My handiwork was splendid; the results superb. The crowd rejoiced. Etc. Etc.
* Early this week I tripped into a shower cubical that I was trying to clean at work and yanked my hand. Two days after that two days later I pinched my finger in a trolley. Oh, and three days before, I walked into a door frame and scraped my arm and elbow. And I pulled both of my ankles falling over the dog.
T'is the season to be clumsy.
* Best Friend 1 got a reproachful glare and brief lecture from her mother-in-law the other day. Reason? The latter mentioned bumped into the former in town and found to her dismay that Squidgum was eating something that she deemed as unsuitable, which led to the look and the lecture (regarding the "proper food" to give to children) and, to add insult to injury, some money to buy Squidum something "better" for her lunch.
To clarify: The food Squidgum was eating that was so unsuitable was a big chunk of fresh cucumber. And the food that mother-in-law requested that Best Friend 1 replace it with (giving money so to do) was a sausage roll from Gregg's Bakery.
Best Friend 1 was, as you can imagine, not amused. The look on its own was bad enough, the lecture was pushing the boundary still further, and the smug handing over of a £1 coin to buy the child a "proper snack". Obliterated it completely. Not, of course, that there is anything wrong with Squidgum being given a sausage roll. As foods go, it's a tasty one; quite fatty, but for a growing girl that burns off a tonne of energy running around, it's not particularly unhealthy (it is for someone like me, unfortunately). It was the great hulking assumption that a) Best Friend 1 wasn't feeding her child properly, b) that mother-in-law was better placed to do so and c) that mother-in-law also had the right to go over Best Friend 1's head and offer the child that wasn't hers (directly, mind you) an alternative that was the problem.
Best Friend 1 was livid. She told me when I got back (I'd nipped to the loo and missed the drama) and I was pretty outraged too, because really; who the hell does that? And what a thing to get sniffy about! The child was munching down on fruit and vegetables for goodness sake: the cucumber being the end of a little list of fruity vegetabley loveliness, and even that was only a stop gap until they got home, after which Best Friend 1 was going to give her some (wholemeal) toast. Any other problems aside, Squidgum is an incredibly well looked after child and particularly is well fed. She gets a good mixture of a wide variety of foods, the majority of which she likes immensely. There is no reason at all for anybody to worry about kind of diet that kid is being fed.
Mind you, mother-in-law is weirdly unreasonable about things like that. Best Friend 1 has always had to be vigilant lest Squidgum be continually stuffed with junk food whilst on the parents-in-laws' watch. Mother-in-law thinks nothing of offering a between meal 'snack' that consists of a large plate of chicken nuggets and deep fried chips followed by a bowl of ice-cream (and what self-respecting 3 year old would object to that?)...not good. As I said; growing girl, lots of energy, most of which gets burned off, so treats are fine, really. But certain things have to remain as treats; not as staples, and they certainly can't take the place of other, more healthy and nourishing food. Mother-in-law just doesn't seem to get that. Hence her behaviour.
And in case you're wondering; no, Best Friend 1 didn't punch the woman in the face. After stating her case - i.e. there is sod all wrong with feeding my child (emphasis on MY) cucumber as a snack while she waits for her lunch - she smiled politely, accepted the £1 and simply exchanged the planned toast with the sausage roll that the mother-in-law had so kindly placed at the top of Squidgum's wish list.
"Pick your battles," she told me, simply.
...I don't know. Personally I still think she should have punched her...
* After taking the plunge and weighing myself last week to see what damage all my over-eating had done (a lot), I'm back on the A-Plan - a plan that I made up and as such is personally and perfectly geared to myself - and doing well. A little under 9lbs lost in the past seven days, which is great.
Just another 35lbs to go...
* Work is still bleh.
The wet and windy weather plus the salt all over the car park (to counteract the freezing temperatures at night and prevent any staff and/or customers from breaking anything as they trek to and fro) plus all the HOI visits plus the sale plus the "stock changeover" (which leads to the nefarious night crew being let loose to wreck the store from dusk till dawn) means that the slog is hard and unrelenting with, for the most part, negligible results...or any results at all...I'll be very glad when the sale ends, the weather improves a little and the night crew bugger off having completed whatever the heck it is they are doing (very little, if the grumblings from the day crew are to be believed); truly I will.
* Another minor calamity to befall me; my dog walking/work boots have developed fine tears along various seams. This is OK as far as work is concerned, because they are still in fairly good nick otherwise and perfectly comfortable. But it is not OK as far as dog walking is concerned, because due to where I tend to choose to plod they need to be water-proof, which now they definitely aren't.
I've been using my snow boots as a stop-gap, but they are designed - as the name suggests - for wading through snow, not trudging through the endless sloppy mess of mud and puddles they have recently been subjected to. A week in and the elements had taken their toll; already a tear has appeared along the uppermost seam across the top. A small tear, admittedly, but still.
New boots were needed, I knew that. Money had to be spent. I knew that too. And after a few more days of dithering - because, after all, what kind of boot? I wasn't satisfied with the last one. I may be being unreasonable, but I feel that water-proof boots one has paid £55 for should actually STAY waterproof for longer than 7 months - I have some. £20; waterproof up to the ankle, felt lined (so comfy and warm) and with good grip.
I've marked it on my little calender thingy in my Nice Purple Phone when I got them. Three days so far and apart from a bit of rubbing of my little crooked pinky toes at first as I broke them in, all is well.
We'll see how it goes.
* Thanks to the fogged state of my chest infection ridden brain, I found myself faced - with a sense of as much panic as my drugged and ill consciousness could muster - with the fact that I had three days left to contemplate (let alone purchase) presents and cards to commemorate three family birthdays that happen to fall right beside each other at the beginning of the year.
A sudden gust of inspiration and the forking out for "express overnight shipping" led to mother being the proud owner of a Michael Ball DVD and a certificate of having paid to 'adopt' (i.e. support from afar) a Hawksbill Sea Turtle for 12 months, complete with accompanying congratulatory letter and photograph.
She seems thrilled with them, luckily. And in any case it is better than what my father got, which was an E-card and an apologetic email. And even that was better than what Cousin No.3 was handed, which was an I.O.U.
...All things considered, actually, what with the birthdays fiasco and the illness and the time off work (£95 that's cost me! Plus £23 odd for the damn prescription!) and the prospect of the next lot of wages (which isn't until 11th Feb, thanks to us having been swapped from fortnightly to monthly, whether we like it or not) being completely buggered and the backbreaking slog and string of complaints at work; January really hasn't been going all that well so far.
Roll on February, I say!
Or at least, roll on 26th January. That's when the start of my lovely eight day stretch of holiday starts.
Until then, on I trudge. Cest la vi.
Alice x
Anyway, I needn't have worried, because it worked. Flashy Thing is good as new. The evening winter walk has been saved. My handiwork was splendid; the results superb. The crowd rejoiced. Etc. Etc.
* Early this week I tripped into a shower cubical that I was trying to clean at work and yanked my hand. Two days after that two days later I pinched my finger in a trolley. Oh, and three days before, I walked into a door frame and scraped my arm and elbow. And I pulled both of my ankles falling over the dog.
T'is the season to be clumsy.
* Best Friend 1 got a reproachful glare and brief lecture from her mother-in-law the other day. Reason? The latter mentioned bumped into the former in town and found to her dismay that Squidgum was eating something that she deemed as unsuitable, which led to the look and the lecture (regarding the "proper food" to give to children) and, to add insult to injury, some money to buy Squidum something "better" for her lunch.
To clarify: The food Squidgum was eating that was so unsuitable was a big chunk of fresh cucumber. And the food that mother-in-law requested that Best Friend 1 replace it with (giving money so to do) was a sausage roll from Gregg's Bakery.
Best Friend 1 was, as you can imagine, not amused. The look on its own was bad enough, the lecture was pushing the boundary still further, and the smug handing over of a £1 coin to buy the child a "proper snack". Obliterated it completely. Not, of course, that there is anything wrong with Squidgum being given a sausage roll. As foods go, it's a tasty one; quite fatty, but for a growing girl that burns off a tonne of energy running around, it's not particularly unhealthy (it is for someone like me, unfortunately). It was the great hulking assumption that a) Best Friend 1 wasn't feeding her child properly, b) that mother-in-law was better placed to do so and c) that mother-in-law also had the right to go over Best Friend 1's head and offer the child that wasn't hers (directly, mind you) an alternative that was the problem.
Best Friend 1 was livid. She told me when I got back (I'd nipped to the loo and missed the drama) and I was pretty outraged too, because really; who the hell does that? And what a thing to get sniffy about! The child was munching down on fruit and vegetables for goodness sake: the cucumber being the end of a little list of fruity vegetabley loveliness, and even that was only a stop gap until they got home, after which Best Friend 1 was going to give her some (wholemeal) toast. Any other problems aside, Squidgum is an incredibly well looked after child and particularly is well fed. She gets a good mixture of a wide variety of foods, the majority of which she likes immensely. There is no reason at all for anybody to worry about kind of diet that kid is being fed.
Mind you, mother-in-law is weirdly unreasonable about things like that. Best Friend 1 has always had to be vigilant lest Squidgum be continually stuffed with junk food whilst on the parents-in-laws' watch. Mother-in-law thinks nothing of offering a between meal 'snack' that consists of a large plate of chicken nuggets and deep fried chips followed by a bowl of ice-cream (and what self-respecting 3 year old would object to that?)...not good. As I said; growing girl, lots of energy, most of which gets burned off, so treats are fine, really. But certain things have to remain as treats; not as staples, and they certainly can't take the place of other, more healthy and nourishing food. Mother-in-law just doesn't seem to get that. Hence her behaviour.
And in case you're wondering; no, Best Friend 1 didn't punch the woman in the face. After stating her case - i.e. there is sod all wrong with feeding my child (emphasis on MY) cucumber as a snack while she waits for her lunch - she smiled politely, accepted the £1 and simply exchanged the planned toast with the sausage roll that the mother-in-law had so kindly placed at the top of Squidgum's wish list.
"Pick your battles," she told me, simply.
...I don't know. Personally I still think she should have punched her...
* After taking the plunge and weighing myself last week to see what damage all my over-eating had done (a lot), I'm back on the A-Plan - a plan that I made up and as such is personally and perfectly geared to myself - and doing well. A little under 9lbs lost in the past seven days, which is great.
Just another 35lbs to go...
* Work is still bleh.
The wet and windy weather plus the salt all over the car park (to counteract the freezing temperatures at night and prevent any staff and/or customers from breaking anything as they trek to and fro) plus all the HOI visits plus the sale plus the "stock changeover" (which leads to the nefarious night crew being let loose to wreck the store from dusk till dawn) means that the slog is hard and unrelenting with, for the most part, negligible results...or any results at all...I'll be very glad when the sale ends, the weather improves a little and the night crew bugger off having completed whatever the heck it is they are doing (very little, if the grumblings from the day crew are to be believed); truly I will.
* Another minor calamity to befall me; my dog walking/work boots have developed fine tears along various seams. This is OK as far as work is concerned, because they are still in fairly good nick otherwise and perfectly comfortable. But it is not OK as far as dog walking is concerned, because due to where I tend to choose to plod they need to be water-proof, which now they definitely aren't.
I've been using my snow boots as a stop-gap, but they are designed - as the name suggests - for wading through snow, not trudging through the endless sloppy mess of mud and puddles they have recently been subjected to. A week in and the elements had taken their toll; already a tear has appeared along the uppermost seam across the top. A small tear, admittedly, but still.
New boots were needed, I knew that. Money had to be spent. I knew that too. And after a few more days of dithering - because, after all, what kind of boot? I wasn't satisfied with the last one. I may be being unreasonable, but I feel that water-proof boots one has paid £55 for should actually STAY waterproof for longer than 7 months - I have some. £20; waterproof up to the ankle, felt lined (so comfy and warm) and with good grip.
I've marked it on my little calender thingy in my Nice Purple Phone when I got them. Three days so far and apart from a bit of rubbing of my little crooked pinky toes at first as I broke them in, all is well.
We'll see how it goes.
* Thanks to the fogged state of my chest infection ridden brain, I found myself faced - with a sense of as much panic as my drugged and ill consciousness could muster - with the fact that I had three days left to contemplate (let alone purchase) presents and cards to commemorate three family birthdays that happen to fall right beside each other at the beginning of the year.
A sudden gust of inspiration and the forking out for "express overnight shipping" led to mother being the proud owner of a Michael Ball DVD and a certificate of having paid to 'adopt' (i.e. support from afar) a Hawksbill Sea Turtle for 12 months, complete with accompanying congratulatory letter and photograph.
She seems thrilled with them, luckily. And in any case it is better than what my father got, which was an E-card and an apologetic email. And even that was better than what Cousin No.3 was handed, which was an I.O.U.
...All things considered, actually, what with the birthdays fiasco and the illness and the time off work (£95 that's cost me! Plus £23 odd for the damn prescription!) and the prospect of the next lot of wages (which isn't until 11th Feb, thanks to us having been swapped from fortnightly to monthly, whether we like it or not) being completely buggered and the backbreaking slog and string of complaints at work; January really hasn't been going all that well so far.
Roll on February, I say!
Or at least, roll on 26th January. That's when the start of my lovely eight day stretch of holiday starts.
Until then, on I trudge. Cest la vi.
Alice x
Wednesday, 15 January 2014
Monday, 6 January 2014
A Productive Day.
I've been a busy girl today.
Firstly, of course, I am back at work. It went better than I expected, considering. I'm still quite wobbly and muddle-headed, though, as until tomorrow morning I am still taking the medication (codeine is fantastic stuff).
Then I very productively went to bed - after mummy made me lunch. She is being very helpful toward my recovery - for two whole hours. After that though, I sprang back into action and provided moral support while mother grappled with the task of feeding the car with oil. Uncle Guy had informed us (after completing his half-term check) that it was not simply running low - as he had expected it would be after six weeks - but had run out all together, which is a very very bad thing. So we had to 'pop t'hood' and pour the oil into the right hole, then check the level with the stick thingy. Very complex stuff for two people such as us; maladroit and terminally ignorant in the majority of practical matters (which would be why we rely on other people to do what should relatively simple things for us, like checking to see if the car has enough oil in it).
After that, with the muse still being upon me after its unexpected appearance yesterday, I knocked out a page and a half more of the ghost story that's been rattling around in my head while mother - recovering after the car feeding business - drank a cup of tea. It's going quite well overall and I think the premise is good. I just need to keep hacking at it and actually finish the damn thing before moving on to something else. I checked the other day: I have 20 stories that have been started, carried on with for varying lengths of time and then abandoned. Not good. But it isn't my fault. If you're going to blame anyone, blame my Muse; it's her/him that does this to me.
Then on to another unpleasant task: getting the paperwork ready for the science and music lessons that mother has been pre-booked to do for the next school term. This involves several stages.
STAGE 1.
The reading (and also understanding) of incredibly badly written tables supposedly that supposedly aid but actually hinder the planning process. And very unfortunately have "essential" bits mixed in that you need to be able to prove you've read (and carried out) in the event of an inspection.
STAGE 2.
The jotting down of endless reams of notes (to be written out in a neat and professional looking way later) and the passing back and forth of ideas and problems and various other things.
STAGE 3.
The typing out the "learning objectives" and the "steps-to-success" and the "assignment progression stages" drivel that the government loves; because it sounds and looks all impressive, and the teachers hate; because it has no practical use and wastes a good deal of time, and the children couldn't care less about; because it doesn't affect them one way of the other.
STAGE 4 (the bit that mother dreads the most).
The inevitable scour of the internet for lots of "teaching resources" (because stuff out of books or on the blackboard just isn't good enough any more: all lessons and activities have to be as "web-based" - their words not ours - as possible).
STAGE 5 (the bit where I look like a god because I am quite good at this stuff).
The equally inevitable converting and/or transferring of all of the information and activities from computer to paper because one thing that you can pretty much guarantee is that at any given time at any given school, most if not all of the computers will not work when you want them to.
STAGE 6.
A final quick scan of the "teaching resources" to check if anything has been missed and a final quick scan of the memory stick (am I the only one that misses floppy disks?) and hard-drive to make sure that everything has been saved as and where it should be.
STAGE.7
Mother goes limp with relief; because apart from writing out her notes in best it's all over with for at least a week until the lesson occurs and the whole messy procedure starts all over again.
So! That's been my day so far. Now we intend to go and order a Chinese takeaway meal for our (a first for us), which we will eat while watching the second half of an episode of Columbo. Then once it's gone down, we will take the dog for a walk.
...Our life is fraught with excitement like that.
Toodles.
Alice x
Firstly, of course, I am back at work. It went better than I expected, considering. I'm still quite wobbly and muddle-headed, though, as until tomorrow morning I am still taking the medication (codeine is fantastic stuff).
Then I very productively went to bed - after mummy made me lunch. She is being very helpful toward my recovery - for two whole hours. After that though, I sprang back into action and provided moral support while mother grappled with the task of feeding the car with oil. Uncle Guy had informed us (after completing his half-term check) that it was not simply running low - as he had expected it would be after six weeks - but had run out all together, which is a very very bad thing. So we had to 'pop t'hood' and pour the oil into the right hole, then check the level with the stick thingy. Very complex stuff for two people such as us; maladroit and terminally ignorant in the majority of practical matters (which would be why we rely on other people to do what should relatively simple things for us, like checking to see if the car has enough oil in it).
After that, with the muse still being upon me after its unexpected appearance yesterday, I knocked out a page and a half more of the ghost story that's been rattling around in my head while mother - recovering after the car feeding business - drank a cup of tea. It's going quite well overall and I think the premise is good. I just need to keep hacking at it and actually finish the damn thing before moving on to something else. I checked the other day: I have 20 stories that have been started, carried on with for varying lengths of time and then abandoned. Not good. But it isn't my fault. If you're going to blame anyone, blame my Muse; it's her/him that does this to me.
Then on to another unpleasant task: getting the paperwork ready for the science and music lessons that mother has been pre-booked to do for the next school term. This involves several stages.
STAGE 1.
The reading (and also understanding) of incredibly badly written tables supposedly that supposedly aid but actually hinder the planning process. And very unfortunately have "essential" bits mixed in that you need to be able to prove you've read (and carried out) in the event of an inspection.
STAGE 2.
The jotting down of endless reams of notes (to be written out in a neat and professional looking way later) and the passing back and forth of ideas and problems and various other things.
STAGE 3.
The typing out the "learning objectives" and the "steps-to-success" and the "assignment progression stages" drivel that the government loves; because it sounds and looks all impressive, and the teachers hate; because it has no practical use and wastes a good deal of time, and the children couldn't care less about; because it doesn't affect them one way of the other.
STAGE 4 (the bit that mother dreads the most).
The inevitable scour of the internet for lots of "teaching resources" (because stuff out of books or on the blackboard just isn't good enough any more: all lessons and activities have to be as "web-based" - their words not ours - as possible).
STAGE 5 (the bit where I look like a god because I am quite good at this stuff).
The equally inevitable converting and/or transferring of all of the information and activities from computer to paper because one thing that you can pretty much guarantee is that at any given time at any given school, most if not all of the computers will not work when you want them to.
STAGE 6.
A final quick scan of the "teaching resources" to check if anything has been missed and a final quick scan of the memory stick (am I the only one that misses floppy disks?) and hard-drive to make sure that everything has been saved as and where it should be.
STAGE.7
Mother goes limp with relief; because apart from writing out her notes in best it's all over with for at least a week until the lesson occurs and the whole messy procedure starts all over again.
So! That's been my day so far. Now we intend to go and order a Chinese takeaway meal for our (a first for us), which we will eat while watching the second half of an episode of Columbo. Then once it's gone down, we will take the dog for a walk.
...Our life is fraught with excitement like that.
Toodles.
Alice x
Saturday, 4 January 2014
Facebook Is In The News Again.
As I am currently laid up and unable to even walk to the kitchen (which is approximately 6 feet away from where I am sitting) without an uncontrollable coughing fit, I've been doing a lot of the only two things that I can do sat reasonably still. The first is watching television, and the second is reading everything I can get my infection riddled hands on; including online news reports (see how desperate I am??).
Anyway, Facebook is newsworthy yet again. Apparently the people in charge of it - whoever the heck that may be - have been selling users' details to third parties (i.e. telemarketing companies); particularly those that are supposedly "private".
Here is the link:
http://uk.finance.yahoo.com/news/facebook-sold-private-messages-advertisers-215432089.html
And here is my question:
Considering what we as a society know about the internet, and also considering this company's rather sullied track record so far, surely I can't be the only person that isn't particularly surprised?
Alice xxx
UPDATE: I have just read the comments section attached to the article. Apparently I'm not the only one.
Good-egg.
Anyway, Facebook is newsworthy yet again. Apparently the people in charge of it - whoever the heck that may be - have been selling users' details to third parties (i.e. telemarketing companies); particularly those that are supposedly "private".
Here is the link:
http://uk.finance.yahoo.com/news/facebook-sold-private-messages-advertisers-215432089.html
And here is my question:
Considering what we as a society know about the internet, and also considering this company's rather sullied track record so far, surely I can't be the only person that isn't particularly surprised?
Alice xxx
UPDATE: I have just read the comments section attached to the article. Apparently I'm not the only one.
Good-egg.
Thursday, 2 January 2014
(Belated) Season's Greetings.
Alice had a wonderful Christmas; halls were decked and holly was bowed, drinks were drunk and food was feasted upon and games were glorified in. Fun was had by all and I even got a present (perfume. Squidgum didn't want Aunty Alice to be left out).
Then; it started. A sore throat to begin with, then aching joints, then a cough. Just a cold, I thought carelessly; no problem. Just ignore it, keep working and in a few days it'll go away as though it had never been.
=hollow laugh=
Except it wasn't, and it didn't. By New Years Eve my voice had gone, my cough was leaving me throbbing all over and light headed and my nose was taking it in turns to block or run. By New Years Day I struggled into work after about four hours worth of broken sleep and just about managed to crawl through the shift until finally admitting defeat and sinking into a chair after a yet another particularly nasty coughing fit half an hour before it was due to finish. Then later that day, as mother served up some nice pasta, my cough graduated from so-bad-that-it-hurts-and-makes-me-faint to so-bad-it-hurts-and-makes-me-faint-and-also-vomit-copiously. Yeah. Lovely, I know.
That was at 6-PM yesterday evening, and the moment that I knew I couldn't cope any longer. Ten minutes later I sent a message to both Supervisor and Area Manager explaining the situation. They were already horrendously short staffed, but it couldn't be helped: it was either give in then or show up, cough till I threw up and then be sent home again. Thankfully they understood.
So, this next morning I whispered my way through an appointment at the doctors; turns out I do not have a cold. I have a chest infection that has been steadily getting worse for over a week. The end result is strong medication, three days away from work (thankfully only two of them are days I would work anyway) and a hole in my bank balance of £75.72 for the lost days at work plus £23.55 for the three prescriptions that I have been assured will make me feel at least a little better within 24 hours.
Watch this space. We'll see.
Meantime. I feel rotten.
Alice x
Then; it started. A sore throat to begin with, then aching joints, then a cough. Just a cold, I thought carelessly; no problem. Just ignore it, keep working and in a few days it'll go away as though it had never been.
=hollow laugh=
Except it wasn't, and it didn't. By New Years Eve my voice had gone, my cough was leaving me throbbing all over and light headed and my nose was taking it in turns to block or run. By New Years Day I struggled into work after about four hours worth of broken sleep and just about managed to crawl through the shift until finally admitting defeat and sinking into a chair after a yet another particularly nasty coughing fit half an hour before it was due to finish. Then later that day, as mother served up some nice pasta, my cough graduated from so-bad-that-it-hurts-and-makes-me-faint to so-bad-it-hurts-and-makes-me-faint-and-also-vomit-copiously. Yeah. Lovely, I know.
That was at 6-PM yesterday evening, and the moment that I knew I couldn't cope any longer. Ten minutes later I sent a message to both Supervisor and Area Manager explaining the situation. They were already horrendously short staffed, but it couldn't be helped: it was either give in then or show up, cough till I threw up and then be sent home again. Thankfully they understood.
So, this next morning I whispered my way through an appointment at the doctors; turns out I do not have a cold. I have a chest infection that has been steadily getting worse for over a week. The end result is strong medication, three days away from work (thankfully only two of them are days I would work anyway) and a hole in my bank balance of £75.72 for the lost days at work plus £23.55 for the three prescriptions that I have been assured will make me feel at least a little better within 24 hours.
Watch this space. We'll see.
Meantime. I feel rotten.
Alice x
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)