Showing posts from July, 2017

Trigger's bike

Tasks achieved today: taken boy to school to not get form signed taken boy to work disinterred and rode old bike advertised old bike for sale - a traumatic undertaking dealt with endless village hall accounts fitted kitchen cupboard door - badly Today I booked the car into the garage to have the orange light fitted to the roof.  That way I can at least charge the boy for the now daily trips to work. The little charmer has taken to ridiculing me for the fact that I am at home while he is working.  What will eventually dawn on him is that the income earner pays the bills, a fact alluded to as he shuffled to the car in as yet untied shoes. He joked that he would break these ones soon, like all the other pairs he has owned, to which I was able to respond brightly that he might reflect on who buys the next pair. Little victories. This morning we stopped off at his school where he needs to get a form signed by numerous teachers to say he was there.  Failure to do so could result

Day three: a modicum of drift sets in

Day three has arrived and this quite eloquently illustrates the problem with being one of the Great Unwashed. Day two appears to have been one of drift, with a large degree of pottering going on to no great end.  That's not to say there wasn't an appreciable amount of washing up, tidying the back room and generally giving the house a zhuzh but the impetus to change the world this Tuesday appears to have got lost somewhere around toast and jam time. To today therefore and the need to hit the ground running.  This was helped by the need to get up early to convey the eldest to his job in a fancy cafĂ©. That got me out of the house and enabled me to carry out some useful tasks including a spot of shopping and some banking for the village hall I help to run - all vital stuff, you understand. One of the most curious problems I have encountered with this changed life is that my wardrobe is suddenly no longer suitable.  Having prioritised suits, shirts and formal shoes for many year

Day one: keeping busy

In an attempt to mollify my critic (she knows who she is...), on my first day away from the office I have: changed two beds done a load of washing (second load going in soon) cleaned the bathroom washed up and tidied up after breakfast written a job application in my vest and pants (okay, no vest but the phrase works best that way) made a delicious, reasonably healthy lunch using leftovers And with the sun shining and temperature rising by the hour, this not being in the office lark is turning out just fine, at least for the first four hours.  All I need now is a rich mistress or a lottery win. I'll buy a ticket.

Leaving work

Things I shall miss on leaving work: The opportunity to work with people who, although you might not view them as firm friends, nevertheless offer good company, a warm welcome and a different perspective on the world. The campus I work on, a green oasis on the edge of the city, styled as only the 1960s knew how, yet graced with a lovely Shaker-style chapel in the middle, a very attractive canteen known grandly as ‘the refectory’ which sold some of the best salads known to humanity freshly prepared by a huge Eastern European chef, an empty car park which nevertheless required you to buy a ticket each day using one of the most truculent parking machines in the world, friendly maintenance staff who wander around all day cutting, hacking, grubbing up and generally destroying any attempt by nature to grow by more than an inch, and a generally relaxed demeanour to the place which tells you that people are happy to be here in general. The morning pastry. Where will the rationale be n

Off betimes

Leaving work tomorrow, I find myself alone in the office on my penultimate day.   What to do? Should I write ‘Knickers!’ on every third bit of paper in the photocopier tray? Or a story comprised of individual words or phrases on successive sheets, proving both intriguing and annoying at the same time. "I know the report needs to be sent out today, Maxine but dammit, I need to find out whether Abigail marries Dirk in the end or if Jenny can lure her away to that retreat in Corfu, saving her from a loveless marriage!" Maybe I could very slightly bend all the staples in the stationery cupboard so they don’t work or take the lids off the dry wipe pens. Paper clips are easy prey so they will be spared. I could put glue on the start buttons on everyone’s computer. Or blu-tack under the desks so it feels like chewing gum. I’ve decided against the traditional poo in the kettle as I love a good cup of tea as much as the next person – assuming, that is, that they are not a