Posts archive for: October, 2007
  • Moving, sleeping and throwing

    As a kid I always used to love musical chairs. Running around like a lunatic until the music stops before fighting my way through the odd little brat to take my place, whilst Mummy and Daddy look on and turn a blind eye to any wrong doing in the hope they don’t have to deal with it. Kind of similar to most offices really!

    We had yet another desk move today which must be my 30th seat at least in the last 2 years. You run around all day and as soon as you manage to be at your desk for 5 minutes to warm the chair, you’re moving again. I don’t mind it actually, nice to look at a different wall! However that said not only am I now sitting opposite my boss which she is immensely delighted about as you can imagine, but I am also in whispering distance to my bosses boss and will now actually have to behave. I’m not sure I can do that. It is good for my introverted mojo as it is quiet, but I have to admit I am a bit concerned about moving closer to the door and being strategically positioned near important people. I should have gone on Big Brother for some pre-move training. Perhaps this is tactical on their part; a P45 would have sufficed though!

    Now having moved I am in direct firing line of germs that come from children and are passed through their parents and onto anyone suitable enough to suffer the bug. Having been woken up numerous times in the middle of the night over the last week in a panic to shift my heaving cat off the bed before some scene from the exorcist erupts, my boss came in today with a similar experience. But hers was of the human form, which in my view is far worse. She came in having nursed her pukey child and then her pukey self after a night of dettol and floor scrubbing (she assured me it wasn’t morning sickness in her case though she couldn’t be too sure of that either which is worrying – if you have a girl can you name her after me… Princess?!!).

    Anyway what pukey children or animals have highlighted is that men really can sleep through anything. Whilst there are sick sounds, movement, light, scrubbing, running up and down the stairs going on, they still manage to offer no or limited support. In the odd event of my husband miraculously waking up to a huge cat brawl at the end of our bed or me deliberately being loud to wake him up and help, he tends to be useless. Women can wake up and in an instant function pretty much as normal and kick into awake mode. My husband, however, wakes into some kind of weird almost drunken state and I get absolutely no sense out of him at all (less than normal anyway). Like when we go to bed and we’ll be talking and in a 2 minute silence he will fall asleep. I put the TV on and an hour later he wakes up, not fully realising he has been asleep for ages and pretends to be awake by laughing at something on the TV that truly isn’t funny, or is at a really inappropriate moment. Then he will spend the next 5 minutes trying to hold a conversation with me realising he has been idiot, but still trying to persuade me that he was awake the whole time!

    I remember when we had just started living together about 7 years ago. He was in his final year of Uni and I had just started work. He must have been under some stress or something, but in the middle of the night I woke up because he got out of bed. I watched him stand against the wall for about a minute rubbing his hands all over it. I thought it was funny at first (if a little odd) and then wondered what the hell he was doing.

    “What are you doing Mart”

    “Looking for the light switch”

    I told him that there was no light switch on the wall he was being friendly with.

    “Where are you going then”

    “To the toilet” he said (a bit of frustration and why the hell are you asking me this question tone came into his voice).

    I left it for a few minutes and the next thing I know he was fighting with the front door to go outside. I asked him again and at this point getting quite concerned about his mental state of mind and he said he was looking for the toilet again (real frustration in his voice now). At this point I thought I had best go and help him out. I was quite thankful he was not on the ball enough to work out how to unlock the outside door, otherwise there’s no knowing where he may have ended up. I took him into the bathroom, put the light on, smacked him about a bit and showed him the toilet. He seemed to get it. When he had finished he came straight back into bed again, said “hello” (which was an odd thing to say given what just happened) and then fell asleep.

    It was all incredibly bizarre. I mean he was obviously sleep-walking but he has never done it since. He does manage to have full conversations with me in the small hours of the morning when I am still trying to get to sleep, but will have no recollection of it at all. I think this could be an early sign of dementia; perhaps I should start monitoring this?

    The other thing that used to happen with my husband in his final year of Uni and into his first job, was that every 4-5 weeks without fail for a good year or more, he would be sick. It was just for 3 days at a time. The same thing would happen, he would have a bit of a sore throat in the lead up, get a little headache and then throw up and by the end of the 3rd day he would be fine again. As it happened so frequently I started to take note in my diary of when he was ill so as I could predict the next time and plan our social life around it. Now this was weird, it was like the male period from a different end! Coming into the 2nd year of having this thing he got really moody, played up a lot and then it suddenly stopped. Menopause kicked in and whatever it was has not come back. What this does go to show is that I am married to an absolute nutter and possibly a medical freak. I hope he is still fertile?!!

  • Awakening

    It really dawned on me first thing this morning and I have actually never really thought about this before, but I am going to be 30 very soon; OK, in 18 months, but that is very soon. As I lay awake and the cat is treading all over me like I’m not even there, I suddenly thought…. increased mortgage payments, best friends wedding, moving up the career ladder and then…. babies. All of these thoughts made me well and truly realise that I haven’t got much time to sort myself out. I used to dread turning 26, it was the worst age to be in your twenties, the realisation that you are now definitely the wrong side of 25. So when I was lying there and thought about everything, this is all going to start happening to me when I hit 30. I’m not afraid to admit that I got quite scared, even though I feel no different now to when I was 18.

    Yep, so 30 is not very old, I mean in the grand whole average life expectancy thing, so what am I worried about really? It means that I will have a max of 4 years in which to have kids before I will be too old, I will need to move house to accommodate somewhere nice for the kids to grow up. No longer will we be positioning ourselves close to work, cinemas, shops, motorways, pubs. No, then it will be schools, play areas, where it is ‘nice’, no busy roads, no nasty children. I can feel my life changing before I have had the chance to even consciously really think about it. After my terrifying awakening this morning which shook me out of bed, I had to go spend money to cheer myself up again. It works every time!

    So whilst I wandered around the shops with husband in tow and looking at pretty and expensive jewellery for the new engagement ring I have convinced my husband to save for, I then thought about the excitement I have for my best friends wedding. But before I talk about that, I just want to clarify here the point about a new ring. The engagement ring I have is lovely and there is nothing wrong with it, however we were at University as students when he bought it for me and is only 3 figures worth of ring. So please lets have a bit of consideration for the student budget here and why I might want a new one, with at least 4 digits! Right then…

    I have been best friends with Mounia since we were 11 and she means the absolute world to me. It’s now just 2 weeks till her wedding and I can’t wait. I have booked us into a lovely hotel the night before her wedding for some girly pampering time, which happens to coincide with my husbands Birthday so I have quite a bit of ground to make up there. I can see what’s coming…. but it ain’t being dragged out for longer than a week, forget it! He will have loads more Birthdays, she will hopefully only marry the once.

    So everything is pretty much ready now, the attire is waiting, cheesy DJ with his laser lights is booked, the food, placemats and little present things that go on the tables all delivered. The hand crafted menus are nearly finished, the hotel rooms are reserved, the flights from France are also booked, so it is nearly there. I will be Maid of Honour with one other bridesmaid and my husband will be an Usher. It is going to be a very multi-cultural wedding with Mounia being half Moroccan and half Italian but born and raised here, her husband is French and she also has family from Sicily coming. Not sure that I will be able to follow all of the speeches, but after a few bevvies I don’t think it will matter too much. I helped her write her speech and I was OK with that one just about. I have learnt my cues for comments and nervous laughter so it will be alright!

    The hen night will be taking place the same night as the stag, 2 days before the wedding and we intend to travel down in true chav style a la Limo. My husband already has his sights on a number of strip joints for the stag, though I do seriously have to question who it is really for, but he has a one night pass and I am missing his Birthday, so I guess on this occasion I will allow it. Not sure what the hen night will have in store for us, though if Mounia is anything like she was on mine she will end up hopelessly drunk, falling down the stairs and fracturing her ankle. I think I will be taking a harness just to keep her under control – I’m sure there will be one in my cupboard somewhere!!

    So moving on…. Other news, my mum has finally made it back from Spain having spent practically the last month out there and leaving my Dad at home by himself for 2 weeks of it. I was quite proud of him actually, I didn’t get one distress call, he did manage to find the kitchen and is not malnourished, the dogs have been walked and he even managed to locate and operate the washing machine for the first time in his life, with thanks to step by step directions left by mum. Dad has also now finished work from his redundancy and is joining the world of the unemployed as he has decided not to retire yet. So that’s great. Incredibly painful though when you are trying to tell a 60 year old man how to interview, how to do a CV, how to dress, to be smart, clean shoes, no stubble, smile….. God, I am losing the will to live, this has been going on for weeks now and I am getting a little tired. Fortunately though as my husband is in recruitment I am starting to handover responsibility to him. It will not do the father daughter relationship much good if it continues.

    Final news, I have still got a splitting headache. I have had this thing for 7 weeks now, non stop, though it comes in waves throughout the day. I’m on an hour break at the moment I think so just enough time to play on the internet before it comes back!

    I don’t know what it is, tablets just don’t touch it, so I am back to the Docs next week which I am really not looking forward to. No doubt it will now land me in some dodgy clinic with peeling paint on the walls, 50 year old plastic chairs that still carry 50 years of dirt, stuck in a waiting room with screaming badly behaved kids around me whilst I wait for a blood test. I’m terrified of all this stuff and a blood test for me is possibly the worst thing I could have done. Well, nearly. I can’t stand the sight of blood, needles, doctors or anything clinical. I have an incredibly over active imagination and I am one of the most squeamish people I have known. I can’t go to a place like this on my own. I will faint or just bottle it and not turn up.

    It took me 5 weeks of agonising headaches where the light can hurt and they make me feel sick and tired constantly, just to drag myself to the Doctors in the first place. But I can’t pretend they aren’t there anymore. The main fear I think is actually really finding out what is wrong with me. What if I don’t like the results? What if I have to change my lifestyle? What if there isn’t anything medically wrong with me and I just have to live with them? What if it’s my job? Oh God, I’m really worried about it. Why can’t it just be like taking a cat to the vets, a couple of pink pills and in 3 days your fine. If I ask for a massage from my husband it carries a pay back and whilst you can get away with a headache for a few days, I can tell you it most certainly doesn’t stretch far beyond a week! I’m gonna have to be brave and sort myself out and for once in my life, act like a responsible adult. Whatever…. Do you know what I think will really help, a shopping spree!!!

  • Three times a London

    Even though I live just 20 minutes from the City I really only ever manage to drag myself there a few times per year; normally to trawl around the shops in a desperate attempt to get last minute Christmas presents that are half decent enough to pass off as having given them some prior thought. This week alone however I have been there 3 times and not being one for a large commute (bit of an understatement actually as I can roll out of bed into the office), travelling on the sweaty smelly tube just this week has made me remember all the reasons I chose not to work in London in the first place. And being very grateful for it.

    The last 2 days have seen me standing in a rather bright T-Shirt in the middle of Olympia talking my way to a jaw ache and verbal repetitive strain injury to what is the UK’s future workforce. I won’t go into too much detail around this, all I will say is that it is great to see that there is such variety and individuality left in the world…

    However, the best visit to London was on Tuesday when we (the Royal we obviously) were nominated for an Innovation award and naturally were invited to attend. I could tell the evening would have a few surprises and not go completely smoothly when it was confirmed that I would be travelling in with my trusty boss… She managed to finally find my house with the incredibly over completed ‘straight road’ the ‘2nd right’ directions I gave her that even with a TomTom she couldn’t find… when she did make it we made our way to meet the rest of the clan to travel on convoy! I thought this would be safer…

    Having stood all the way to London my boss decided that she and I should make a break for it and get a taxi rather than go another two stops on the tube. Sounded good in principle except the place we got off was Oxford Street and not one free taxi could be seen. Anyway in her wisdom she thought it may be best if we took a back route where it was quieter, which would have been a great idea if it didn’t mean we had to walk further than needed. I was already walking 10 paces behind her as she had a manky foot and I wasn’t sure how close I should get! I did feel bad for her being in pain but the piggy back option with my heels was out! Having made it back into the safety of a main road, no scary dark shadows and a flood lit street, I felt a little more comfortable and as luck would have it there was a taxi. Great, now we can get to where we need to be. I’m not one to pass up free drink and this was now encroaching on my drinking time.

    Well we made it and managed to join the crew, grabbed our champagne and before you could blink my boss had downed hers in one fair swoop and was making a mission impossible style leap for another in case the world ran out of champagne and she would miss out… now she moves fast! Well after a few more glasses we made our way to the award ceremony, listened to some incredibly uninspiring cheesy speeches which were enough to cure my insomnia there and then. Unless I am fully engaged in something it can often spell trouble, though I think I was reasonably well behaved, I hadn’t drunk enough for my other personality to kick in so all was fairly well.

    As the awards went on and our nomination came up, I was pretty shocked to find out we had not won. We should have won actually but instead some arse slapping supermarket came above us – it didn’t go down well and despite trying to be very ‘Oscars’ professional, a few hisses crept out in a rather non sportsman like way, though I can guarantee that it was not the conscious mind doing it. I think we were hypnotised by the boring speeches and the shrieks were just involuntary motions.

    The time drew in so I had to grab the cab with my boss for the long drive home – she needing her cup of coco before bed and me needing to be functioning on at least one cylinder to have an ounce of professionalism the next day for a barrage of assessments. Not only that but to assess with a rather lovely man and to not look like death. Yeah, a lovely man, he …. anyway, the ride home, oh yeah. Like most random conversations I have with my boss, or anyone else actually, they do tend to lend themselves to me letting something else out about me that either no one knows or that I would just never normally speak about. I think it is just being out of the office, it seems to make me talk and be me, but I said enough really. It was quite funny and we were incredibly loud. I felt really sorry for the cab driver, he didn’t say anything but I felt I needed to apologise immensely after dropping her home – obviously she was the rowdy one and not me. I think I got my punishment though when he insisted on running through his entire auto-biography with me in the space of 15 minutes. Still, I am sure I deserved it, though I don’t recall telling him I was in recruitment. Thanks JPR, no doubt you dropped that clanger when you made your swift exit from the car! Hmmmph.

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