Names

I spent yesterday being literary at Tatton Hall - the highlight of the day was a poetry reading by Wendy Cope, but there was also an interesting discussion about 'Get into Reading', a way of using reading groups with different groups such as people with dementia, mental health problems, learning disabilities, by reading books aloud on a weekly basis and then discussing them - I wondered whether this would work on my estate as a way of bringing different people together, but think I'll probably never find time to implement it...  Char March also read a story she had written about her relationship with her mother - as I was at the even with my mother, it was interesting to think about how our relationship has changed and how it might change in the future.

So here's my favourite poem Wendy read:

Names

She was Eliza for a few weeks

When she was a baby - 

Eliza Lily.  Soon it changed to Lil.

Later she was Miss Stewart in the baker's shop

And then 'my love', 'my darling', Mother.

Widowed at thirty, she went back yo work

As Mrs Hand.  Her daughter grew up,

Married and gave birth.

Now she was Nanna.  'Everybody

Calls me Nanna,' she would say to visitors.

And so they did - friends, tradesmen, the doctor.

In the geriatric ward

They used the patients' Christian names.

'Lil,' we said, 'or Nanna,'

But it wasn't in her file

And for those last bewildered weeks

She was Eliza once again.

The joy of shopping

I went to Asda.

On my own.

In my car.

The DVLA has still not managed to send my licence back to me but I'm allowed to drive under section 88 of the Road Traffic Act 1988.

So I went to the supermarket.

How it works...

What have the Babylonians ever done for us?

Listening to More or Less on Radio 4, I learnt about the Babylonian's contribution to our maths.  Apart from our systems for time and angles (they worked in base 60), they also had a big impact on our calendar.

Babylonians were big on phases of the moon and worked in 28 day months, broken down into 7 day weeks.  They believed that the 7th day of each week was dangerous so it was best to stay at home.  It is believed that this had a big impact on the Israelites while they were with the Babylonians, so this 7 day cycle got written into the Genesis creation story.

So, what have the Babylonians ever done for us?  Sundays off!

Not adding up

The government are planning to subsidise internships for new graduates struggling to find work due to the credit crunch.  Graduates will be given work experience by large companies in order to gain skills and experience, and in return will receive a 'pay deal' slightly above the current grant rate of £2835 to ensure they don't suffer a cut in income.  This sounds like an interesting plan but not thought through.

Students live on a combination of grants and loans, but many also work - both part time jobs and working for four months or so in the summer.  Without that extra income, they would struggle to survive.

And that's living as a student.  As students, my friends and I revelled in our cheap lifestyle - one of our favourite nights out was 'Free to Dance' at the student union.  It was free.  We danced.  And we drank tap water from behind the bar.  Being poor is part of student culture.  Working requires some money - for clothes for work, and transport to and from work.  It's not cheap.

And then, why would you anyway?  I know jobs are scarce, but if I had a choice between work experience at under £3000 and a normal job at around £12000, I know what I would choose.  In some ways I regret not experiencing a graduate job, but I've started in an entry-level job, using some of the skills I got while I was a student, and am working my way up through my career - and getting more than £3000 a year.

I just don't see this taking off. 

Ethics and economics

We've had most of our rewiring done.  We need all the holes filling in with plaster.  We've had a few plasters round to look at it.  We've had a resounding lack of quotes.  We've still got some more recommendations to try.  But it's a bit depressing - all I want is someone to come and make my house whole again.

We've also had a  few recommendations of people who will come and do the job for us, if we give them some money.  No receipt, no VAT.  I believe in getting a proper job done, I believe in getting a receipt for the work I've paid for, I believe in paying VAT (particularly now there's 2.5 % less of it to pay!) and I also think that if I pay tax on what I earn, probably everyone else should too.

But I can understand why maybe not many plasterers do, if that is the case.  If  you have to charge an extra 15% for VAT and whatever you're going to lose in various income and other taxes, you're not going to be very competitive.  Which means you're less likely to survive.

I don't want to employ a plasterer cash-in-hand - I don't agree with it.  But if the alternative is living in a house with big gaps in the plaster, or doing the work myself, I'm not sure what I'll end up doing.

Hallelujah. Again.

Driving home yesterday afternoon, we listened to the top 40 on Radio 1.  As 'Hallelujah' is still no. 1, I listened to it all the way through for the first time.  I have three specific complaints about it:

1. It's overdone.  The music and the lyrics have enough emotion.  You don't need to emphasise every word.  And - I don't really know enough technical music language to describe this really - the amount of build up around "a cold and broken hallelujah" really makes me think she just doesn't get it.
2. What is the deal with a backing choir?  This is a song about being on your own, not about having a full gospel choir to keep you company at all times.
3. She missed a verse.  Yes, just missed out a whole verse.

I would rather this cover had got to no. 1.  At least it does something different with it which isn't just 'making it worse'.  And it's funny.

It's January 5th and I have to go back to work.  I'm not sure whether 'll get used to this.

'Twas the night after Christmas and all through the house...

Our old neighbours moved out a couple of months ago, which we were quite relieved about: they were noisy; shouted at their kids a lot; parked outside our house after making a fuss about our friends parking outside theirs once - and in some way connected to local gangsters and involved in a shooting incident a few years ago.  No, we weren't sorry to see them leave.

A new neighbour moved in a month or so ago - we hadn't really seen or heard much from him.  Until Christmas started.  On Christmas night at about 1 am Matt was woken by screaming and arguing on the street from people at next door's.  I sleep through earthquakes so this was no trouble.

And last night we were just going to bed at 10.30 when there was a knock at the door.  Our neighbour says he is having some friends round.  It might be a bit noisy.  Would we like to come round?  We decline, explaining that we're just going to bed and, as Matt has to be up early for work, ask him to keep the noise down.  He goes away.  We don't feel very confident.

So we go to bed and there is some noise but we manage to sleep.  Until 1.30 am, when we're woken by screaming and laughing from next door.  It's loud.  And it's not stopping.  I go round and knock on the door.  Nothing.  I knock more loudly.  Still nothing.  I do my 'baliff' knock.  Someone comes to the door, our new neighbour behind him.  I explain that it's 1.30 am and we're trying to sleep.  He looks sorry.  I ask if he has people upstairs.  He says he does so I ask him to move them downstairs.  He says he will.  He says he's sorry.  I go back to bed.  There's still a little noise but nothing like it was.  I lie awake wondering if it's going to get worse.  Fortunately, it doesn't.

I'm considering treating this as research in understanding what my tenants deal with and claiming overtime - double time for the bank holiday, of course.

No. 1

I think it's fair to say I'm not an X-Factor fan.  I don't really have anything against it, I just can't be arsed.

I am, however, incensed by their plans to appropriate 'Hallelujah' for the winner to do a cover version of.  It's just wrong.  'Hallelujah' is dark and powerful and conflicting and speaks to those painful times in life.  The original version was written by Leonard Cohen and then covered by Jeff Buckley, the epitome of angsty musicians.  I'm not saying no-one should ever cover it, just that it should be done by people who understand the song and have chosen it because they can do something new with it, not someone who has won it as a prize in a talent show and who has had it chosen by a company aiming to wring as much money as possible out of the public using the hauntingly beautiful* melody.

So, if you are also unhappy, there is something you can do.  Buy the Jeff Buckley version.  Currently it's at number 3.  Links to where to buy it from are here (not Amazon, apparently , as this doesn't contribute to the charts).  I'm not sure whether it's really possible to stop the X-Factor version getting to no.1.  I do know Sony will be laughing as they own both versions.  But I honestly think it's worth making a little stand against the overwhelming triumph of the commercialisation of culture.

*Yes it's a cliche.  No, I don't care.

Last train excitement

We went to Sanctus.  We went to the pub.  We ran (sort of...) to the station to catch the second-to-last train home.

We missed it.  A man had collapsed outside the station so Matt did the off-duty paramedic thing and made sure he was ok until the ambulance arrived - the ambulance he usually uses when he's not off-duty!

So we got the last train home.  

I don't often say nice things about my husband in public.  But I was very proud of him.

Good electrician, bad electrician

I will be glad when the rewiring is done - it's due to start on 3rd December.  Lucky Matt, it coincides with his 6 days off work.  There are some good things though.  We get to decide where we want plug sockets - there's been a huge leap in the amount of electrical equipment people have since the wiring was first put in.  And we'll have a shower put in while we're having the rewiring done - another of those things we haven't got round to yet.  This VAT reduction has come at an excellent time for us as well :)  Oh yes, and our house will no longer be a fire risk.  

We're planning on trying to get some money back from the electrician who certified the electrics and did some of the work about two years ago - yes, just before we bought the house.  I know that if we had employed him claiming would be easy enough but I'm not sure where we stand as we've bought the house from the people who bought the original service.  Her certified it as good for 5 years when it wasn't actually good for ten minutes, so I think it's worth a go.

Small hiatus

I finished my essay!  My weekend was fairly tedious (Apart from going out for Matt's birthday and going to a baby shower... so not so bad...) but I managed to find around 3000 words to say about how our relets department does continuous improvement.  We'll see.

I have more work to do - another test, another essay, an exam - but I'm in that lovely state of readjusting to not having something to do every single minute.  And I'm going on holiday!  Matt is 30 on Thursday so we're going away for a long weekend.  I'm very excited.  It's going to be fun!  And nothing at all about continuous improvement!

When even the good news isn't actually good...

We started having some problems with the electrics in our bathroom recently.  A while ago the fan stopped working and we never quite got round to getting it fixed.  And then the bathroom light started flickering randomly.  It's irritating when the light goes out when you're on the loo...

When the fan switch started sparking and making crackling noises and the light was flickering even when it was turned off at the switch, we thought we'd better do something.  We turned the light circuit off at the fuse box and lived in darkness for a week.  The electrician came out on Monday and said the wire from the light switch and the wire to the light fitting were different colours (apparently bad), the light was live all the time (also bad apparently) and the fuse for the wiring circuit should have an earth as well as a live wire coming out of it(even I know this isn't good).

They came back yesterday and did some more investigations.  Matt texted me to say there was good news and there was bad news.  At this point I was hopeful.  Maybe, I thought, this meant that not much needed doing but they couldn't do it for a couple of weeks.  No...  The bad news is that the whole house needs rewiring.  The good news is that the house hasn't burnt down.  At some point the fan set itself on fire and then smothered itself.

Not a post at all.

I haven't posted for a while.  This is because I am writing such a wildly boring essay I have nothing to say.  About anything.

I wanted to write something about the government wanting to be able to look at everything ever written on facebook for reduction-of-terrorism purposes, and link it to the redefinition of terrorism under one of the criminal justice or terrorism acts.  But I was too tired.

I could tell you about work and my performance review and how coaching has improved my life no end.

I've thought about writing some more about housing law and how much I like it, or the complexities of preparing for Matt's forthcoming 30th birthday.  Or the joy of our neighbours moving out and leaving us in peace, quiet and parking space.

And of course I always want to tell you all about Jake, and how he's sitting up now, and just how awesome he really is.

But no, my brain has been turned to mush by Continuous Improvement as Applied to Lettings and Allocations.

So I have nothing to say.

'People like me'

As a housing professional* I was interested to read the tenancy agreement a friend is using to let his house.  Anyone who has rented privately will have seen this sort of thing - 2 sides of A4 explaining that you have to pay the rent and look after the property, and leave if you're asked properly.  I explained that social landlords have slightly weightier agreements - ours cover everything from rent to gardens to car repair to neighbour nuisance to who gets your tenancy if you die.  I use my tenancy agreement to tell tenants to cut their lawns.  "I hate people like you," another friend muttered.

Ah yes, people like me.  Landlords do not always have a good reputation** and this is sometimes deserved.  And, admittedly, there is really potential for being a complete bastard*** in this job - housing law is so complicated that power rests squarely with landlords unless tenants get good advice.  Landlords tend to start with the power anyway, being the ones with houses to provide.  So, being a 'person like me' doesn't always feel pleasant.

But just what is it that I do?  What social benefit do I provide?  Well, generally, I help to provide people with somewhere to live.  I explain the rules to them.  When people have problems caused by their neighbours, I do what I can to resolve those problems.  When people have problems with us, I try to help them resolve those problems - we can't always do everything people want, but I find that people are happier sometimes if you can explain why.  

When people are in crisis - when their relationship is breaking down, for example - I help them to know what we can do to help.  I go to meetings designed to protect small children who are being abused or neglected by their family.  I intervene and support people when they are being harassed or suffering domestic abuse.  I listen to all sorts of horrible stories.

Today I spent a considerable amount of time talking to a tenant who is due in court next week for possession proceedings.  Now, hopefully, he will come in and get his tenancy issues sorted and I've also arranged for some support to enable him to sustain his tenancy.  If he is still in his flat on Thursday I will feel some sense of satisfaction.

I don't like all of my tenants.  Some of them are unpleasant people to deal with.  But I genuinely care about my tenants being well and happy in their homes.  I try really hard to make them happy when I can and be honest when I can't.  I know I've had a positive impact on people's lives.

Which is more than you can say for hedge fund managers, for example...

*yes really, that is how I describe myself.

** try googling "evil landlord"

*** I learnt this at uni on Wednesday - Crodon LBC v Buston and Triance (1992) - a secure tenant is told by a lawyer that she can sign her tenancy over to her son, so she does and moves out.  Her son takes the legal document into the council offices.  They say assignments have to be evidenced by a deed.  She goes away and gets a deed done, but the council point out that, by moving out of the property and not intending to return (evidenced by the original document) she's lost her secure status so no longer has the right to assign.

Back to school

It's definitely autumn - I can tell from the weather and the way it's getting colder, and from just how dark it seems to be almost all the time.

And it's back-to-school time.  Uni starts again tomorrow.  I seem to remember that I liked going to uni last year.  I liked learning things, I liked drinking coffee, I found it interesting to find new ways of looking at my work.

But I also vaguely remember losing whole vast swathes of my life to essays, and to the time wasted not doing essays but not actually doing anything else, and not seeing my friends or my husband or my family.  I've enjoyed the freedom I've had over the summer to do those things and I don't want to lose it.

Still, we're doing law and finance, how hard can it be?*

*I also seem to remember saying that about a masters in International Political Economy and that turned out to be so hard I just cried all the time until I gave it up...

Things to do when you're ill (1)

So I am ill and stuck at home on the sofa with a very low boredom threshold.  To make myself feel better I am knitting very small hats for innocent smoothies' The Big Knit.  So far I am up to 2 1/2 hats.  Each one takes about 45 minutes to knit which, coincidentally, is about the same length as Any Questions.

Admittedly, I could more easily spend a couple of hours asleep on the sofa and send them £1.50 but I'm not sure that's the point.

thebigknit2008

I'm not a student any more, dammit!

For a long time, September was a funny month.  It heralded a new academic year, either as a student, working at a university or working with students.  Every year, for approximately a decade, September would be a hectic month filed with freshers' weeks, late nights and lots of hard work, followed by an unpleasant week of so of Freshers' Flu, that delightful result of meeting lots of new germs from all over the country, which takes the form of a runny nose, sore throat and an overwhelming urge to stay in bed until I feel better.

While technically I am still a student, it's on day-release now, which is completely different - the new term starts on Wednesday, I know I've passed my re-sit essay (that one on Polish migrants I was telling you about) because I've been allowed to register on-line but I still haven't had my results through the post - but my body does not seem to have grasped the idea that it has no reason to be ill.  It's September and I'm off work with what feels suspiciously familiar.  A runny nose.  A headache.  A sore throat.  An inability to process thoughts or communicate coherently.  I have The September Malady.

Here, there and everywhere...

Just about getting over Greenbelt - it's tiring but completely awesome, and I feel like an amazing person when I'm there, and then I come home and I'm just tired and feel slightly less awesome - it takes me a week to get used to normal life again.  

And now I'm off again - going to Quinta with SPEAK to do Vocal Training, a weekend getting network people together to do training.  I haven't been for a while as I no longer work at SPEAK, and this time I'm just cooking - it should be a lovely relaxing weekend with lovely people in lovely countryside.  And I'm hoping to fit in a visit to my favourite baby on the way home.

Because work just isn't pressured enough.

Friday night! Yay! Home from work! And on my doormat is the new copy of Inside Housing, the trade journal for people working in Social Housing. Yes, I read a trade journal and yes, I will be 30 next year...

Tonight's headline was "James Mitchell was killed by his neighbour after a six-year feud. Should his landlord have done more to protect him?". A tenant, after suffering anti-social behaviour from his neighbour for a number of years, was killed by his neighbour after his neighbour was warned that he may be evicted for his behaviour. The tenant's family are now suing the council involved for failing to care for the tenant by warning him that they were going to speak to the neighbour.

I spend a lot of my time at work, but not as much as I would like, dealing with anti-social behaviour. I have, at any one time, between 10 and 15 ASB cases open. We are obliged to investigate any complaints we receive, though not necessarily solve them. It's harder than I think people imagine to deal with. I have to consider the confidentiality of both the complainant and the subject, deal with counter-complaints and try to get evidence of what is going on, while remaining impartial. Often the person being complained about will deny all the allegations and provide a completely different story. Sometimes I have to work with other agencies such as the police or mental health professionals. People are not always co-operative, for a range of reasons. All this for 10-15 different cases, some quite complex, some reasonably minor - and it's sometimes the more minor cases where people make more of a fuss.

Every time I hear a story about violence following neighbour disputes, I feel a sense of fear. I can imagine this happening in cases I deal with. I have to try to work out how to investigate and how to progress cases. My job is to investigate, not to decide who to believe, and it can be very difficult. I love doing this and find it very interesting, but it is a huge responsibility, dealing with the most difficult parts of people's lives - I'm not always sure who I am to be doing this.

And this is just part of my job.

The Most Fun Ever. In the world. Ever.

I loved many things about Greenbelt this year.  Work has, as regular readers may have noticed, made me a little cynical, and Greenbelt has helped to return the joy of helping people.  As support stewards, we help by wandering around being a presence, we help Greenbelters by being available and dealing with situations as they happen, and we help other stewards by providing a bit of support where it's needed.  And we help each other with a large dose of mocking.  It works for everyone, I think.

Not everyone appreciates us, however.  One kind man spent ten minutes explaining to Guilty and me that what we were trying to do was pointless and offered to spend the whole night following us around to point this out.  As we were planning to have officially The Most Fun Night Stewarding Ever*, we declined his kind offer.

It's been quite a quiet year, mainly - I'm sure we've looked for more lost children in one night in previous years than we did in the whole festival this year - possibly because there were a few occasions when we reunited parents and children before we managed to get the radio call out.  But we've done some things which I'm really quite proud of.  We found a mother wandering round in the rain with her small boy at 1 am as the sound of the rain on the tent was scaring him, and we re-directed her to somewhere safer to spend the night.  We dealt with a few people who had spent longer in the beer tent than was good for them and stopped them causing more problems for themselves and others.  We helped some girls who had lost their tents in the middle of the night.  We gave directions, smiled a lot, pointed out toilets and wandered round the campsites drinking Greenbelters' coffee (really, the best way to get moved off a campsite is to get a full cup of coffee), eating their cake and being the friendly face of Greenbelt.

What I remember most about Greenbelt is spending time with my team, talking and messing about, having loads of fun and getting caught doing silly things by my team leaders when really I should be looking responsible...  But I feel proud about the added bonus of helping Greenbelters to have a better festival.

*With some success, I might add.

Back...

I am back from Greenbelt.  I had the BEST time ever, in the world, ever.  I have had a bath and do not smell any more.

I did some awesome things.  I also did some... other things.  Here's a short list:

1. I got caught by my team leaders pretending to be a horse and doing an olympic-style dismount from a pub bench, in the space of 40 minutes, the latter following the 'awesome timing' phrase, "I'm glad Zippie and Merlin didn't see that".
2. I had an opportunity to tell someone not to set themselves on fire again.
3. I nearly got to set a gazebo on fire but Rob Safety wouldn't let me.  I think Guilty would have let me.
4. I may have been caught having a small sit-down on the campsite when I was supposed to be patrolling.
5. I pretended to mourn (loudly) a boy who pretended to die.  This was necessary.  I didn't ask him if he was a horse.
6. I nearly got run over by a fire-engine.  Twice.  And by Merlin once.
7. I fell over in the mud.
8. I learnt to play cat's cradle.  Honestly, don't bother.  It is the most pointless activity ever.
9. I didn't poke anyone in the eye.
10. I may have been a bit annoying.  Occasionally.

I love support team...

Nice decisions

I listened to last Friday's Any Questions? and found myself very disappointed in Billy Bragg.  Usually he's got passionate and interesting opinions.  But not on the issue of NHS funding, it would seem.

There was a discussion about NICE, the National Institute for Clinical Excellence, who decide whether medicines should be licenced for prescription in the UK, based on a cost-per-years-of-life-gained basis.  These are the people who decide whether you should get expensive cancer treatments, among other things.

Do they do a good job?  I don't know whether they do the best job they could do - I don't have any experience of their work.  I think they do a very difficult job...

Billy Bragg argued that what they do is fundamentally wrong - that you cannot put a value on life, that the NHS was set up to fund treatment, and that if you can't fund the treatment people need, you have your priorities wrong and should put more money into the NHS, presumably until you can.  He said that if treatment cost £100,000,000 (yes, really, a hundred million) for an extra year, it should be provided.

That's a nice thought to have.  But not feasible.  We don't have an endless amount of money to spend on the NHS.  And there is a near-infinite amount of money required to treat every illness.  

NICE is about resource allocation and opportunity cost.  If you spend money on one medicine, it isn't just about the cost of that medicine, it's about what you are giving up in order to provide that medicine.

And health goes so much further than just medicine.  That £100,000,000 pounds could be spent, for example, to build more houses.  Into those houses could go families currently living in overcrowded accommodation, which are damp due to the overcrowding and which make the children ill due to the damp.  

No-one is going to stand by and choose to die when they know there's a medicine out there which can help them to live.  People are going to fight for the treatment which will keep the people they love alive for longer.  Once it's you it's emotive.  That's why we need an organisation like NICE to make those decisions rationally.  Let's have a discussion about how they do that and the values they apply to make their decisions.  But let's not claim that it's wrong to make those decisions. 

Not pleasing

I work for a housing association, managing about 450 properties on a fairly nice estate.  I deal with tenants' enquiries, complaints and problems.  I'm the face of the housing association for most of my tenants.

The advert for my job said that I would have to be passionate about helping people.  I really am.  I came into the job wanting to change society at an individual level.  I think a lot of people get a bad start in life and have an impaired ability to make good choices.  I think people must be held responsible for their behaviour, but there needs to be some recognition of the circumstances that have shaped them.

I'm finding my job quite difficult.  I have to give people difficult answers, tell them we won't be doing everything they want - or at least, not just yet.  I tell them that their behaviour is having an unacceptable impact on their community.  I try to understand why people fell how they do, explain decisions in a way that makes sense, and represent their opinions to other people in the company.

For this, I get told that my answers are pathetic, that they will hold me personally responsible for the death of family members, that I wouldn't be prepared to live like that.  I have tenants hang up on me when they don't like the answer I give, or tell me that all they are asking for is everything they want, straight away.  

I find it hard because one of the things that drives me is a desire to make people happy.  I understand that sometimes this is a case of making the best of a bad situation - making people happier than they would have been had I not explained things properly to them.  But I feel like I really am pleasing none of the people, all the time.

6 years!

We had our 6th wedding anniversary on Sunday.  We like to give each other presents related (vaguely) to the traditional gifts.  Guess what's traditional for 6?

We already had the most sugar in the world due to some unfortunate miscalculating when I did the cooking for a weekend away.  Now we have some more.

I haven't ever read Sugar.  I hope I never have to again.

More welcome but with less spelling accuracy - two Sugababes albums.

Chocolates - mmm - and they're made of sugar...

 

Two lush bath-bombs.  No sugar-relatedness at all.  But very nice.  

Not sugar-related but will last slightly longer than the chocolate.  Or the sugar.

meaning and happiness

The happy man does not look back.  He doesn't look ahead.  He lives in the present.

But there's the rub.  The present can never deliver one thing: meaning.  The ways of happiness and meaning are not the same.  To find happiness, a man need only live in the moment; he need only live for the moment.  But if he wants meaning - the meaning of his dreams, his secrets, his life - a man must reinhabit his past, however dark, and live for the future, however uncertain.  Thus nature dangles happiness and meaning before us all, insisting only that we choose between them.

Jed Rubenfield, The Interpretation of Murder

I have decided that I am just not constitutionally designed to be happy.  I'd like to be happy, and I think it would probably be quite satisfying.  I know people who are happy - who are quite content with their lives pretty much as they are.  I am married to one of those people.  I don't think I'm ever going to be one of those people.

I want to matter.  I want my life to be significant.  I'm not saying happy people are insignificant.  But I wonder whether people who are more likely to achieve things (yes, my definition of 'things' includes some things and not others...) are likely to people who are driven.  And people who are driven are, by definition, trying to get somewhere because they are not satisfied with where they are.

I like my life.  I think I'm pretty fortunate.  But I think there's more.  I could be doing more, being more, making more of a difference.  I do think there is always greener grass.  And, right now, I'm planning on how to find it.

Even if I don't find the rest of Mr Rubenfeld's book 'spectacular' and 'fiendishly clever' as the Guardian has promised I will, I'm grateful to him for making me feel it's ok to want more than just happiness.

The best thing about Indonesia was...

There are things I loved about Indonesia.  The food was very nice, for example, and the weather was quite pleasant - it rained once for half an hour during our two-week visit.  The people are friendly.  Seeing Emily and Paul, my best friend in all the world, and their two boys was great - it was so much fun!  

There are also things I didn't like.  Travelling for 30 hours to get there and back wasn't fun.  Nor was the crazy driving.  Coming from the long days of British Summer Time to it being dark at 6pm was completely weird - it felt like 11.30 pm at 7.30 pm.

We did some amazing things - we went to Borobadur, a 1300-year-old Buddhist temple, made of interlocking blocks of lava.  We saw a volcano.  We went to the beach and body-boarded in the Indian Ocean.  I became 29.  We saw rice growing.  We survived spending 30 hours together on a plane without going mad.

And we rode on elephants...

How cool is that?*

The whole visit kind of made me want to go and live in a foreign culture and learn a new language again.  And kind of made me very glad to live exactly where I do...

*The tour guide at Borobodur, who was very knowledgeable and interesting, thought he was taking photos but actually pressed the video button by mistake...

Out of office

I'm going to Indonesia.  I'll be back in a couple of weeks.

Ontology and etymology (or Losing My Religion)

I'm writing this after a pint and a half of cider and some vodka and coke so if it's less than comprehensible I hope you'll understand...

When I started postgraduate study the first time round we talked a lot about ontology and etymology, which were words I really struggled to understand.  Eventually I got the hang of it: what we know and how we know it.  How do we think the world is made up, and how do we know this?  So for me, among other things, I'm a feminist - in part, we're split into men and women and that affects how we'll get on.  And I'm a social constructivist - I think society is created through the language we use and how we behave.

I have discovered a downside to not believing in God.  I have no basis for believing in anything.  Until recently, having the certainty of an existing authoritative God and the Bible, I had a solid basis for everything I needed to have an opinion on, and room for lots of interesting debate within safe parameters.*

Now, I don't have that.  In an uncertain world, I have no idea how to know anything.  There are lots of theories and I can tell you which ones I like and why I like them, and also discuss the merits of them as theories, but how do you know anything?  Is it just a case of deciding something and sticking with it, hoping for the best?  Or making a best guess?  Do I just have to earn to live with uncertainty?

*Actually, it was always much more painful and indecisive than that, but that's just the outworking of my personality.  I've learnt to live with it. 

Public bodies (and a gratuitous baby...)

Did you know that Fern Britton has lost a lot of weight?  Did you care?  Well, bear with me, because it's vaguely relevant to what I want to talk about. 

We watched a debate about the child of our time series on BBC4.  The participants, who were all vaguely famous and vaguely clever, were discussing a variety of those things people always talk about when talking about modern childhood.  And we discussed whether we liked what they were saying and if 'critically evaluating' was normal language or jargon (guess who fell on which side of that fence?) and we critically evaluated their outfits.

So.  One woman was wearing just too many different attention-grabbing accessories/hair/make-up/everything.  One woman had weird hair.  And one woman had a top I didn't really like.  One man was, maybe, dressed a bit too casually.  One man looked nice, smiled a lot and said nice things that I liked.  And one man was Robert Winston, who I think may be a modern-day saint as no-one ever says bad things about him.

I noticed 

we were much more critical of the way the women were dressed, which reminded me of the whole Ferngate thing, and the Guardian's suggestion that public women's bodies are considered public property.  So I interrogated my thinking...  Is it just because women wear a wider variety of clothing, so there's more to discuss*?  Or is it that the way every public woman dresses is considered fair game for discussion in a way that doesn't generally happen to men?  Or maybe that women are considered to be more interested in clothes generally, so are more scrutinised because of this association between women and clothing?  I don't know, but I'm planning to do some more thinking about it every time I dislike someone's shirt.

And, as we're discussing children, I'm throwing in a gratuitous picture of my favourite baby ever:

 

*It's like this at work too.  Men wear a shirt and a pair of trousers.  And either a tie or not a tie.  There's some choice over colour/pattern of shirt, the tie question and, if they wear one, how much they care whether their shirt matches their tie.  For women, it's more interesting, probably a bit more relaxed, but much more complicated.

The aftermath

Well.  The Big Dress event, eh?  It's pretty hard to sum it up.  It was exhausting, stressful and busy and I did NO REVISION AT ALL.  One day I'll learn.

However, I enjoyed it.

It felt like a festival - lots of sun and sitting on the grass.

I developed my conflict resolution skills.

Tony was an invaluable deputy and we had an amazing team of stewards.  I'm still trying to work out how to put into words their wonderfulness so I can email them all and thank them.

I was called a fascist by a stand-up comedian due to my concern for fire safety and then was called upon to put out a fire in a litter bin - see the picture!

We had quite a few stressful times due to football-related disputes, plans changing, barbecues in bins, lost radios (which have turned out not to be lost after all) and a serious sleep-shortage.

Nothing makes me feel competent quite like this.  We did a great job.  The Big Dress event made a difference, and it made it well and safely because of what we stewards did, and they could do that partly because of what I did.  I think when you find something you're really good at, you should do it as well and as often as you can.

I also finished my exams today so am rejoicing in all my free time.  Despite my lack of revision and general tiredness, I think I did ok.

On the home straight

I've been writing essays.  I've started revising.  I've been compiling crazy rotas juggling about 30 people's complicated lives.  I've been making lists and checking them twice.  and tomorrow I'm heading off to Sheffield for The Big Dress event.  I'm in charge of the stewards.  And I'm taking my revision notes with me.

It does feel hectic - I feel like I've been working for about 9 months solid.  But this time next week I'll have done my stewarding and finished my exam - and I'm really looking forward to the break!

New! New! New!

I'm sitting in my kitchen writing this.  This is exciting because my computer is in the attic.  My old computer, that is.  After months of deliberation, investigation and saving up money, I've bought a macbook.  The novelty of being able to check my email anywhere in the house is immense and incredibly enjoyable.

My computers have all been old, slow and inherited, put together from leftover parts from other people's computers, and tended with much love by Matt.  So it's very exciting to get to choose a computer.  Having itunes which doesn't have Matt's dubious taste in music on is amazing.  Having a computer that is completely empty and waiting for me to fill it up with my rubbish is very exciting.

It's also exciting because I'm new to macs.  So far it is beautiful, but slightly frustrating - trying to cut and paste is near impossible...  It just doesn't work like a pc.  It's supposed to all work together beautifully, but working out how to get it to do that can be a challenge.

And it's new because I'm on my own.  Matt is pretty good with pcs and has always looked after mine.  I'm good with software and the internet, but I know nothing about hardware*.  Matt knows nothing at all about macs.  It's kind of exciting but just a little bit scary...

Right, I'm going to have a bath.  But even I, new to macs as I am, know not to try to check my email in the bath...

*Apart from graphics cards.  Due to my old one being rubbish and my computer being too rubbish to run anything better, I've spent a lot of time taking graphics cards in and out of my computer.  I know how to do that!

Things I can tell you...

It's been a while. I'm writing about The Homelessness Act 2002 - it's actually really interesting - and preparing for SPEAK's Network Gathering, which I'm organising the stewarding for. And visiting my nephew, who is amazing.

I can, however, tell you that there's nothing much wrong with my heart or brain. I have learnt the following:

• I have episodes of sinus tachchardia.
• My brain MRI was 'unremarkable'. Thanks.
• I don't appear to have any inter-ictal epileptiform disturbance. I can only assume this is a good thing. In fact, I can only really assume that all of the above are good things.

I'll keep you posted.

I'd also like to recommend Patroclus's investigation of gender bias on the Guardian's letter pages, which I am currently loving...

Too many pies?

Turns out she wasn't lying. I wondered if my sister had just eaten too many pies.

But no, here I am with baby Jake, who is two days old.

Trusting

As so often happens, once I start thinking*, I head towards discussing feminism, and the downsides of conservative evangelicalism in restricting my thinking about this. And Merlin says "Ah, you see, my belief tells me that women can do just as much as men. And my god agrees."

I think, I'm not sure I'd want to have my god agreeing with me. But here's my new question - what's the point of god? I appreciate that it's possible for things to exist without a purpose - and if god exists, god exists without needing to have a purpose for me**. But...

1. If God isn't bigger than me, and doesn't know more than me, what is the point in relating to him/her/it?

2. If God is bigger than me and does know more than me, doesn't that mean I just have to do what they advise? I'm really not interested in just doing what I'm told - it doesn't sound much fun.

I was trying to work this out by discussing it with a friend. I miss God loving me and having a good plan which I'm part of - a sense of purpose. But I don't want to lose my freedom and independence and go back to living within narrow rules.

She asks, what if God doesn't have a plan? I say I can't imagine God not having a plan - that's too much part of what God is for me to comprehend God being God without it.

Ok. She asks, if God had a plan, but was a tyrant, a complete dictator who just wanted veryone to do what they were told, what then? Well, I wouldn't be interested. Turns out goodness is more important that the plan.

What it comes down to is, if God doesn't know everything, how can I trust God? She asks "do you trust me?". I see what she means. I trust her, within her limitations of knowledge and understanding. Can I trust a limited God?

*It's true, I do think, they took some pictures of my brain this week and there really is one there. And it has brainwaves coming out of it and everything.
**my theology takes a while to make much sense.

belonging

I got my promotion. I'm looking forward to finding out where I'll be managing, what it's like and starting to make my own decisions. And to getting paid.

I went away with Sanctus this weekend. I had a lot of fun, drank a moderate amount of alcohol and thought until my brain felt like it had been trodden on.

I started coming out as some sort of atheist a while ago - I used to believe passionately in god, but with a lot of turbulence. I got a bit tired and decided to have a holiday from trying so bloody hard, and hopefully discover something about what I believed from what floated to the top at the end of it all (this may be something of a mixed-metaphor experience...).

Unfortunately there wasn't much left floating. I discovered that I had no real sense of any sort of god existing. But I discovered intellectual freedom along the way, and the real joy of feminism... However, there's something to be said for believing that someone created the world and that that someone loves meand has a plan for my life. I'm left feeling slightly purposeless and less loved. And less like a lovely person. My life just feels slightly... flat.

So I went away this weekend hoping to at least think a little about what I might believe. I realised that Sanctus is very important to me. I find a sense of community, safety and acceptance that makes me hope there is perhaps something more than just us. I'm not sure I can believe that it is just the result of a lot of people trying to create something good. It keeps me hanging in because it's something I want to be part of.

Dave Tomlinson, who wrote the post-evanglical, which I thought at one point might save my faith, came and talked with us about ourselves and about what he thinks. It was thought proviking. He talked about god's kingdom as a spirit of life and liberation. I don't have any ability to believe in a personal, intervening god but maybe a spirit of life and liberation is somewhere I can start exploring from - less crude than just good and evil.

And I thought about my place in sanctus. Socially I feel very part of sanctus - I can turn up, say what I think and feel secure. I feel that I belong. Spiritually, I feel less inside - a community is built on shared values and, not believing in God, I haven't felt like I have so much to say. But I think I've realised that I have things to contribute. I'm not pastoral like some people, or particularly wise - things you would associate with being part of a church community thing. But I've been to lots of places in my faith, and I can organise things and ask interesting questions, and cook an awesome pudding. I've realised that maybe I need to be giving, and see myself as someone who has things to give, in order to grow. Some theologians have talked about belonging without believing, and maybe that's where I need to start in order to believe.

Tampopo/Juno

On Friday night I went out with friends from Sanctus1. We started off in the new Tampopo at the Triangle in Manchester. It's Asian fusion food - I had Mee Goreng Chicken, getting in practice for my trip to Indonesia in the summer, followed by chocolate icecream. I really liked the style - long benches, so you could end up sitting next to a random stranger - good for a night out with friends but possibly not for a romantic dinner... The staff were very friendly and helpful and the food was delicious, though reasonably spicy - so not ideal if you don't like spicy food at all. The only small problem we had was that one person's main course was burnt so she sent it back and it was replaced with something undercooked, followed by the wrong pudding - although again this was speedily replaced. Definitely worth another visit.

After this we saw Juno - a fantastic film about a pregnant teenager. It was unmoralistic - no goodies or baddies, just flawed people dealing with problems as they arise - unsentimental and very funny – it reminded me of Napoleon Dynamite in its style. The acting was fantastic – so much shown without any words. I was concerned about the portrayal of the potential adoptive couple - a neurotic woman desperate for a baby with a husband who just wasn't sure: a bit of a cliched gender stereotype - but because of the strengths of the characters each person was an individual rather than representative of a group. Equally, there's been some debate about whether Juno is pro-life but I think the decision is portrayed as an individual one, set in the context of being 16 and pregnant, rather than a comment on all abortions everywhere, ever. One thing I loved was Juno's immaturity -she was funny and clever but the state of pregnancy didn't make her suddenly wiser, more virtuous or more mature - there was no suggestion that being pregnant makes you an adult, or a woman, or that pregnancy is the ultimate state for all women. And it managed all this with hardly any showing of sex or babies...

Here comes the sun...

I have been reasonably successful in having more fun - I was out every night last week and did not cook once.  This did result in me feeling quite ill and thinking I might faint/fit on Saturday.  I will refine my goal somewhat - have more fun without making myself ill.

I got a hospital appointment letter for 19th Feb and was quite impressed.  Then realised I'd been mis-referred - it said ECG* rather than EEG**.  Turns out I'm having an ECG as well as an EEG and brain scan - Matt claims the doctor said he was sending me for one.  I was quite alarmed.  I'd come to terms with maybe having a weird brain but I appear not to be prepared for having a heart problem.

I'm applying for a job (regen stuff in Salford) and struggling to (a) convey just how amazing I am and (b) work out how to fill in bits of the form.  For example, do I count as being disqualified from driving or does that just count for people who got caught drink-driving?  Can I put that I've got a license and then explain that I can't use it or is it better just to say no?  Do I say I have a disability, when the job doesn't actually ask for driving and that's the only bit I really have difficulties with?  Do I even count as disabled?  I've only had one fit.  But my day-to-day functioning is impaired in that I can't drive.  But then lots of people's day to day functioning is equally impaired by not managing to pass their driving test.  I don't have epilepsy, just a good excuse to see pictures of the inside of my brain.  Does not knowing how to answer questions on a job application count as an impairment?  Fortunately there is a very helpful equality and diversity person at Salford Council who will hopefully ring me up and help me work out what to put.  

But now that it's getting light again, I'm feeling happy.  Life is worth living when it's sunny outside...

*heart-thingy

** brain thingy

Revelation/revolution

I had a revelation last weekend.

I went to visit some friends of mine and they asked about things like my mother-in-law's wedding (in November) - I realised I hadn't seen them since October*.

I saw this** and laughed a lot, and it felt rather nice to be laughing and feeling endorphin-y, and it was a bit sobering to realise that I clearly don't laugh enough.

I realised: my life is shit.

Again, this isn't technically true. But I eat, sleep, work and study. This isn't a life. So I've decided. If I'm not good enough at studying to do well enough and see my friends and have fun, I'll just have to not be good enough. It's not the end of a career, just the curtailage of a particular career path.

So, I have a plan:

1. When I'm working, work hard. My time is valuable.
2. See my friends. Accept invitations. Arrange to see people. Have fun.
3. Find a new job. My ideal would be to get a Neighbourhood Management Officer job and do that for a few years and then move into strategy, research or policy. But, if no NMO jobs come up soon, I'll look for something else, somewhere else. I'm not feeling challenged enough and I need more responsibility. I like it where I work and I'd like to keep working there. But not doing this.

So. I went to Sanctus on Wednesday and saw people, and it was interesting. I met up with a friend for coffee and we talked about SPEAK stuff. And I'm starting planning the stewarding for a speak event in May. It involves a comedy night on the Sunday. Subject to not getting knackered organising stewarding, I'm going to restart my comedy by putting a short routine together. I'm excited because I love doing it.

I have decided. My life will be better.

I was going to blog about evolution and where the world comes from. Maybe next time...

*This turns out to be untrue. I saw them at a Christmas dinner.

**Too lazy to do my own linking, but Merlin's blog is very thought-provoking, so it's worth a visit. I'll be like the internet tourist board for a minute.

Eureka! A kick in the stomach...

I would like to direct you to Nine Tenths Full of Penguins talking about Sigur Ros, who I unreasonably claim to dislike, and a moment of thrill he got when first hearing one of their songs.

I can't claim to have felt anything much when listening to it, but I did just get my own little jump-in-the-stomach feeling (no, not a baby, silly!).

I have been dragging on and on with an essay. It's always a worry, reading stuff, having no real sense of where I'm going to end up, and the terrible paralysising fear that I'm going to have nothing to say. Nothing at all. I'll work so hard and just tell the lecturer what all these other people said, and he'll say, well, yes, I knew that, that is why I am the lecturer and you are the tudent. Have a 35% fail.

And then, suddenly, I am writing the essay, and I look at what I've written about Single Regeneration Budget funding. And I look at what I want to write about the Pre-Volunteer Programme at the Commonwealth Games. And I realise... I can argue that the PVP was very successful, but the criticisms of it are the same as the criticisms of the SRB, and I can argue that it's likely that it was successful despite being SRB funded, and I realise that I have an argument! It may not be true and it may not be write, but it works!!!!!

So, obviously, I blog about it rather than writing my essay.

Now go back to advising me on laptops.

Technological advice request...

Ok, my clever and technologically aware friends, I am thinking of buying a lap-top in the near future and would like some advice. My current desktop is a bit old and slow and gets tired and confused when asked to do too many things. And I'd like to be able to work all over the house and occasionally take it out and about with me - to work on the train, at university or at my mother-in-law's in Skye, for example.

I want to use it to:

1. Look at Facebook.
2. Listen to the comedy programme I like on Radio 4, which was on yesterday, in the kitchen, rather than Front Row.
3. Store all my photos and every essay I have ever written, plus 50 versions of my cv, just in case I do need an out-of-date cv to apply for an admin job at some point.
4. Listen to music.
5. Skype my best friend in Indonesia. I liked the idea of having a webcam to do this, until she pointed out that their internet connection is too poor to support webcam use and talking at the same time. But still...
6. Have 13 journal articles open at the same time.
7. Play World of Warcraftbadly and sulk because all my friends have levelled their characters faster than me. I maintain this is because I have a life.

I'd like to get something which will last me a long time and won't need replacing too soon. I'm expecting to spend more than £500 but hopefully not too much more. If it looked nice that would be a bonus, and if it was light and mobile, that would also be a bonus, but fairly low down my list of priorities. If could have a big screen for playing WoW, but still be small and easy to carry, that would be... miraculous?

So, advice? Who makes good laptops? What do you find really useful in yours? How do you find it for playing games? Any recommendations?

Thanks!

: )

I can tell when I'm happy. I sing, badly, while rushing round the house randomly.

Today, finally, I feel happy again. I am looking at a catalogue of archived material from the 2002 Manchester Commonwealth Games, trying to decide which bits I really need to look at when I take a trip to the Central Library on Thursday morning. The bit I really need, the SRB bid, is restricted access, so they may not let me look at it.

I go to put some washing on and make a drink and find myself singing, very badly, to the bits I can remember of Earth Song. I am happy.

If only they didn't make me go to work, I could be this happy all the time.

I suppose it is possible work don't send me on this course just to make me happy.



p.s. I have an appointment with a neurodude at Tameside hospital on 2nd Feb. Hope wasn't even an option. Unless I'd like to sit on a waiting list for a very long time. No thanks, I'd rather be allowed to drive again.

Pretty shoes...

So, I'm still worrying about the seizures - every time I feel 'funny' I wonder if I'm going to have another one. I try not to tell Matt every time I'm worried - there's no point in both of us worrying all the time. And he'd only try to ring me to check I'm ok, and I would have left my phone on silent, and he'd have to decide whether to rush home to check I'm not dead. Life has got slightly more complicated recently.

I'm also back to worrying about my essays. One is due on 18th and one on 25th January. I've emailed the course leader and my personal tutor to explain I'm having difficulties - I've been tired since the fit - I tried to do an hour's studying last Sunday and had to have an hour's nap in the afternoon. My personal tutor is amazing. She rings me up and runs through the options with me. I'm hoping to be allowed to put one essay off until the summer. Now I just have to try to work up the energy to study rather than look at Facebook.

I had lots of fun shopping yesterday - I'm going to a New Year's Eve cocktail party. Clearly I need a new dress. And some pretty shoes. I found both... though I am still no good at shoe-shopping - I wished to invoke the spirit of L1z but had to manage on my own... Which I did...



It was harder than you would imagine to find a pair of shoes with less than a 4" heel. I've decided that when there's a season of clothing which really suits you, you should run out and buy everything you can find as it will not happen again for at least four years...

Not driving home for Christmas

Well, I have some news... I had a seizure last night. The world all went grey and buzzy and I collapsed. Fortunately I was with Matt so he caught me (mostly...) then I had a bit of a fit on the floor. To me it just felt like a big faint but Matt says I stopped breathing, went all rigid and was post-icstil (that is my guess at spelling - it means 'how people look after they've had a fit' and apparently only happens after someone's fitted).

So Matt called an ambulance, who took almost an hour to arrive, they tried to claim I'd probably fainted (it can be beneficial to have a paramedic for a husband!) and took me away to Tameside hospital, where we stayed until about 3.30 am. They did a whole load of tests, which said I was fine and not pregnant...

I went to my doctor this morning. He said he thought it was a vasovegal, which is a blackout due to low blood pressure caused by a fight-or-flight response. This was reassuring until Matt said it really wasn't a vasovegal.

So I've been referred to a neurologist and am not allowed to drive until I've been cleared. This is a world of suck, but I'll live with it. It ruins my Christmas plans to drive over to my parents' while Matt works nights but I really will live with that - I'm not really up for killing myself or others...

We've also remembered a 'fainting' episode I had about 5 years ago - I think Christmas is a trigger! I got up in the night to get a drink and collapsed in the kitchen. Matt found me after about 5 minutes, woke me up and I was horribly sick. Matt put it down to me eating about a kilo of mixed fruit and nuts, but the more I think about it the more it seemed similar to this. We'll see.

I'm not keen on being epileptic but it wouldn't be the end of the world - it's manageable. What I can't bear is the thought of losing my driving licence after less than a year, and losing the whole range of driving-licence-necessary job opportunities that I tried so hard to get it for.

Regenerating

I'm in the library printing off approximately 350 pages or so of journal articles in preparation for my next assignment. I'm writing a report on a central government regeneration policy, evaluating it and comparing it to a local implementation of that policy. the idea is to reflect on what works in regeneration.

I'm looking at the Single Regeneration Budget, an attempt by the Conservatives in 1994 to streamline a whole range of funding pots, which was carried on by Labour until the early 2000s. My local example is the 2002 Commonwealth Games in Manchester which used funding from Round 5 of the SRB to attempt to leave a regeneration legacy. I don't have any real conclusions at the moment but I'm hoping it will come together at some point... I'm thinking about focussing on whether the volunteer programme actually increased skills for local people, particularly in East Manchester, but I will have to see what I can actually find...

I am feeling very encouraged in my studying at the moment. I've really enjoyed writing these essays, apart from the stress of trying to get them finished and not having enough time to get beyond the beginning of an argument. And being expected to do things like go to work and cook dinner and go out to see friends occasionally. I think I'd quite happily sit in my attic in my pyjamas thinking about things, emerging occasionally to make coffee... I've had a couple of marks back - I got 68% for a report on the Hills Review and 74% for a timed essay* on Housing Market Renewal. I still have another essay due back, which should be posted to me by Christmas - the lecturer kindly told us that a few people had done exceptionally well, most were average and a few people seemed to be really struggling, leaving us all imagining we're the ones who'll be re-sitting come July. Guess I'd better work really hard on this essay just in case!

*an exam trying to sound less threatening

Good morning?

Well, I'm definitely a student again.

With an essay due tomorrow, I have sayed up nearly all night to get it finished. I'm not sure it's the best essay ever, but at 5 am I fnd it hard to care.

Well, I suppose I'll get 3 hours of sleep. I'm almost tempted to go to sleep in my clothes to save time getting dressed in the morning.

But only almost...

In the bleak mid-winter

I am looking forward to the day that cryostasis becomes reality. I will get them to stick me in the deep freeze round about mid-october and take me out again in mid- to late-march. I will even co-ordinate my departure and arrival so it gets dark at roughly the same time so I won't feel disorientated, like I do when the clocks go back.

I suppose the alternative would be to spend six months of the year in Australia. That would be a little less pleasingly sci-fi though.

If I die...

$4225.00The Cadaver Calculator - Find out how much your body is worth.

Miami Dating

Over £2000 - though it wouldn't even pay off my student loans...

What's wrong with this picture?

I've just got back from an extremely fun weekend of being ridiculed by my Greenbelt support steward friends. I'm quite tired, due to staying up too late and drinking a lot (but not falling over or being sick this time).

I drove down. It's the first time I've driven such a long way - we were near Chepstow, on South Wales.

Let's look at the stats:

Distance home: 168 miles.
Time taken to get home: about 4 hours
Incidents of swearing at drivers: twice, in my head.

Distance there: 180 miles
Time taken to get there: nearly 5.5 hours
Incidents of swearing at drivers: numerous, at high volume

Let's see if there's any reason for this discrepancy:

On the way down, I gave a friend a lift. Let's call him... Handbag... to protect his identity. So we set off. I have excellent directions provided by the friend we're staying with. I give the directions to Handbag. We're driving down the M6 and it's reasonably busy. Handbag suggests the M6 Toll road to avoid congestions. I ask if we can still get on our route. Handbag assures me that we can. We drive down the M6 Toll and look for signs onto the M5, our next road. Turns out this is via the M42. I think this is a bit odd. Oh well.

Handbag rings the friend we're staying with to tell her where we're up to. She expresses some surprise that we're on the M42. She then rings Guilty* who is also driving up. He's some way along the M5, which is jam-packed, and knows the M42, which is also jam-packed. He wets himself laughing.

If you look at the larger map andcan see our journey, you might see where we went wrong...


View Larger Map

Obviously, I blame Handbag.

Not that the journey back was over an hour qicker, despite everything above Cheltenham being wreathed in fog (I learnt where my fog lights are). Moral of the story? Don't believe people when they tell you they can map-read.

*Yes, all my friends really do have weird names.

Bollocks!

I didn't get the job.

It sucks.

I feel like I compromised my interview preparation by trying to work on my essay, and my essay work by doing interview preparation.

Oh well, I suppose sometimes life is sad and there's nopoint whining about it.

Feeling hectic

Thought I'd just give a bit of an update as my life is feeling a bit crazy at the moment.

I working on my report and would like to hand it in while at uni on Wednesday to save another trip on Friday, but I don't think I'll manage it. It's coming together but I'd like another couple of weeks to think about my arguments and back them up, and maybe, just maybe, read some interesting things.

I have an interview on Tuesday morning for the Neighbourhood Management Officer job, which means that getting the report done for Wednesday is unlikely. By my reckoning there are 6 other people being interviewed. I'm hopeful - I'd really like the job - but I'll just have to see how it goes on the day.

Next weekend I'm going down to south Wales (I forget where - hopefully I'll remember by the time I set off) to see Greenbelt stewarding friends. I'm expecting lots of fun and some fireworks. I'm also driving down which I'm quite excited about - I haven't done much long-distance driving.

And then, after that, Matt and I are going up to Skye for his mum's wedding. It's a very long way - 8 hours driving plus any stops. We went to the Trafford Centre today to try to get clothes to wear to the wedding but didn't realise it shut at 8 rather than 10 so were not ultimately successful. It's not like I have time for another shopping trip but I will just have to find time...

Genius!

I was listening to Genius on Radio 4 this evening. The idea is that people come up with ideas that they think are genius, and a Radio 4-type celebrity (funny, clever or, usually, both) decided whether they are or not, and then the audience decides which is most genius. You had to feel sorry for one guy. His idea was "husbands 4 justice". Rather than campaigning for access to their children, they want their wives to make them hot puddings, initally on Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays, working up to 7 days a week. He thought he was presenting to Nigella Lawson. Turns out it's Germaine Greer. She was never going to like it...

I'm going for promotion at work. It's weird. I've never been for promotion before. Not only do I have the worry that I'm not presenting myself aboslutely as well as I can, I also have the fear that, as these people have seen me work for the past year, they might sit reading my appliaction and saying She really thinks she's that good? You can't blag your way through interviews in quite the same way, I'm guessing.

I know I can do the job, I really want it, and it's a very public competition. If I don't get it I will feel like I've let myself down because I know I can. If only I can write the right think on this damn application form... I keep thinking "I'm sure I've done other things like this...". Just have to remember them...

Fight! Fight! Fight!

I just re-remembered Googlefight! I was hoping it might help me to win an argument. It didn't, but it pleased me again...

Answers on a postcard...

PostSecret has, I imagine, become a Sunday habit for many people. I'll have a look at the post-cards sent in anonymously, handmade, revealing people's deepest secrets. I love it because it shows that my deepest secret isn't just my secret. The thing you think you could never confess because it is too terrible? Send it in and someone will say, "I feel that too".

Try to visit PostSecret today and you'll find a blank page owned by Nicole, who has been on Blogger since September 2007. 7741 people had viewed her profile last time I looked, so I'm guessing it really is a habit for many people. We're all wondering where PostSecret has gone. Has Nicole stolen it? Is this the end?

Obscure Greenbelt post

I just found this. I thought it was just me.

A growing problem...

So, I signed up a very nice tenant today. We were chatting and I asked her about her baby - how old he was, that sort of thing. And then she looked at me and asked, "Is that your first?"






I said, "No, it's just fat." She had the grace to look very embarrassed.

It's a family thing. Both my sisters put weight on on their bellies in a vaguely pregnancy-bump style as well. We don't know about my mum as she doesn't put weight on.

Fortunately I don't have issues about how I look as this isn't the first time this has happened by a long way. Possibly, if I did have issues, it wouldn't happen as I'd lose the bump.

However, I do know that I need to do some exercise and lose some weight to feel healthier. The problem is that I am very lazy and don't really like exercise. I'll do it for a few days and then I get bored. I quite often feel too tired to exercise (I know, if did more exercise and lost some weight I'd have more energy...) and there's always things I'd rather do. But I think, if I don't do it now, maybe I'll just get older and fatter...

Any suggestions?

Greenbelt '07

I'm back from Greenbelt! This has definitely been my favourite Greenbelt ever – much better without a broken leg!

I work as a support steward. We start at 7 pm (ish) and finish at 3 am (ish). We help other stewarding teams when they need it, we wander round and talk to Greenbelters, we look for lost children, and do anything else we're asked to do to make Greenbelt a safe and pleasant place to be.

I love being part of the support team – we work together every year and meet up between Greenbelts so we do know each other well. It's a varied and interesting job, and more challenging than a lot of stewarding roles. Other stewards seem to appreciate us as we help them out with managing difficult situations and talk to them when they're bored on a gate somewhere. I feel like when I'm stewarding, I'm most like me, and most happy.

I've reflected a lot on what I like and don't like about my job this year. I like the first half of the evening best – we help out with venues and queues and talk to Greenbelters more. The second half seems to be more security-ish – looking for people who are trying to get into Greenbelt who shouldn't, or people who are causing trouble somewhere. I'm not so keen on it – partly because I have less experience of it and partly because I'm not sure what I'd do with people if I did catch them...

There were some highlights this year. I helped Venues stewards manage a huge queue for a small circus venue which was due to go in at the same time as a singing event in the organic beer tent was due to kick out – through the circus queue... I also helped to manage the queue for the Delirious signing – only 40 people or so turned up but it was fun anyway. And we went as a team to the Site Stewards' team briefing to heckle Stuart Traffic – I think we enjoyed it more than he did... Sanctus1, the church I'm part of, led the main communion service. I sat in the arena stage. We all released helium balloons – we all watched as ours rose into the sky, and then a second wave of balloons from main stare reminded us that, although we were at two venues with a different feel, we were still at once service. It was magical.

Greenbelt also sees me at my worst. I'm not a morning person. But when I'm woken up by a load of famillies going to a worship event after about 5 hours sleep, I can be a bit irritable. And sometimes, inadvisably, I might express that irritation. Equally, asking a 12-year-old if he was a horse because he was crossing the race track might not have been the best attempt at communication I have ever made (yes, we learnt about sarcasm at basic training. Yes, I've got my name down for re-training next year).

And at my drunkest. This year I discovered I like cider. Stories differ on how much I drunk, but I think it's fair to say that it was probably more than I should have had. At least I'm a happy drunk – between my morning irritability (“I hate you all”) and my drunken ramblings (“You do know that I love you, don't you?” - yes, I am embarrassed) I probably equate to a pleasant human being. I did fall off the pub bench of my own accord once, but I was definitely pushed the rest of the time... I have never been sick in a portaloo before and think I'm probably lucky I don't remember much about it. But I am definitely lucky to have to good friends I do who took me to the toilet, to my tent, put a duvet over me and stayed up to make sure I was ok. It's friends like these that make Greenbelt what it is.

Bastards!

I was mugged last night. Walking home from the station in the pouring rain, someone grabbed my arm. I screamed and felt my bag pulled out of my hand, so I turned round and saw a man running away with it. I shouted "stop thief!" (being, as I was, in a 1950s cop film) and chased him shouting "give me back my bag, you bastard!". He jumped in a car which was waiting with its engine running, and they drove away.

I am lucky: I wasn't hurt, they didn't get my keys or phone or my mp3 player. They took my purse so I've had to cancel my bank cards, and they've got a load of other useful and sentimentally valuable things. They've got a very nice bag. They've got my Manchester A-Z. They've taken the job application I was working on. And they've taken my sense of safety. I am fairly safety-conscious when walking about but it was a main-ish road and it wasn't that late or that dark. I'm not prepared to live in fear of crime, but I am quite shaken.

And having a bit of a bad week of it too. Last Wednesday I went out for drinks in Manchester with some friends. While walking to the bus stop a man tried to get me into his car - not by force but by claiming to be a taxi. Having been brought up to be aware of Stranger Danger, I said no, but I still felt intimidated on a dark and empty street but a man driving alongside me in a car. I told some police officers who said it is a bit problem. Unfortunately I couldn't remember the numberplate. But it makes me appreciate Nexus, which runs a night cafe offering coffee and safe, legal taxis.

I'm not saying Manchester is a dangerous place to live, just that some people are bastards.

Party party party!

We picked up our keys just after 3pm.

We now own a house.

The move was incredibly smooth. We are incredibly grateful to everyone who helped with lugging about heavy furniture and putting together stuff from IKEA, carrying things up into the attic, and waiting patiently while I deliberated over having the shelves in the lounge or the bedroom. I think you people may be relieved that now we've bought a house we won't be asking you to help us move again for a while...

We're mostly unpacked and life feels back to normal - last weekend we did no unpacking or house stuff at all - we did do a lot of drinking though! There are still quite a few things which need sorting out/moving/unpacking/putting up and some bits of painting and decorating. We've had a few problems (such as the bath overflow overflowing directly into the kitchen on ou first night...) and it turns out to be a bit scary being responsible for the house - there are times when a landlord is a wonderful thing - we had a few problems with our gas meter and boiler today and I didn't like having to sort it all out myself....

So we are having a housewarming party on Saturday 18th August from 4pm. It's going to be a barbecue. If you'd like to come, stick your email address in the comments section and I'll send you some details.

Waiting...

Due to complete today. I have been at work this morning and been on edge waiting for someone to ring me to tell me I can pick up the keys to my new house. It is now 1 o'clock and no-one has rung.

What if there is a problem? What if there is a bit of paper missing? What if the money hasn't come through?

So far our solicitor has been pretty good.

We have somewhere between six and eight people coming to help us move tomorrow. I need my keys NOW!*

Will be off-line for a bit until we get the internet set up in OUR NEW HOUSE...

*Do you ever get the sense from reading my blog that I might occasionally be a bit impatient?

A few tears

I have just put my beautiful wedding dress in a box to post it to the Oxfam bridal department in Bradford.

I got married on 27th July 2002. I have never felt or looked so beautiful in my life and I can't imagine I ever will again. And, to be honest, I don't think I really want to.

I never wanted to keep my wedding dress - it seems a waste for it to slowly decompose in a wardrobe or in my attic. It is so beautiful and special that someone else should get to wear it.

But...

Most charity shops have wedding dresses that were made in 1985 and look horrible. It's too beautiful to be in a shop with them.

I couldn't put it on e-bay because most wedding dresses there sell for about £50 and it is too precious and valuable to sell it for that little.

As we're moving again, this seems an ideal time to pass it on. So I'm giving it to Oxfam, who have a bridal department in Bradford. I like Oxfam - I like the variety and quality of the work they do - and their charity shops usually seem slightly nicer than most. And, as I'm posting it, I can imagine it is in a beautiful bridal department, with a whole host of other beautiful wedding dresses, in the company it deserves.

While I never wanted to keep it, I am sad to see it go. And yes, I did cry a little as I shut the lid.

Complete!

We have agreed to complete on the 20th! It looks like we could have done it a bit earlier if we wanted but two weeks for packing and organising everything seems like a good idea. I am VERY EXCITED.

So we should get the keys at lunchtime on the 20th and I'll take the afternoon off work (and try to avoid putting anything serious or complicated in my calendar for the morning. Then we can go and look at the house - and hope we still like it - and plan where to put all our furniture. Then on the 21st it will be the big move. If anyone would like to help lug boxes and carry shelves, we'd love to have you. I promise to do my best not to get injured in the next 15 days and also to remember that boxes full of books are VERY HEAVY.

Woo-hoo!

Our contracts have arrived in the post today! I've read everything through twice and everything seems ok. So now we have to sign everything, some signatures being witnessed, and post it back to our solicitor. Then the sellers have to sign some other things. Then we have to agree our moving date and give the solicitor the best part of £1000. And start putting things in boxes.

I am terrified.

Brenda RIP

My goldfish, Brenda, died today. She was just over 7. I feel a bit sad. I hope she's gone to the great fishbowl in the sky, where she can be re-united with Barry, who didn't live quite so long...

Watching, reading, listening

Watching... I just watched Brokeback Mountain. I think I would have got on better had I been able to understand what people were saying, if they didn't mumble all the time. I'm not sure what to take away from it: don't be gay in 1963; life is better if you go with the person that you love; it's better to have loved than just settle for second-best? I feel like there's something deeper but I can't put my finger on it - something about tragedy and hope - maybe it's because I have a chest infection, or maybe the film was just too damn deep for me.

Reading... The Night Watch by Sarah Waters. The first time I read it I had vivid dreams about being in a war. It is beautifully written and very clever, starting in 1947 (or something like that) and working backwards in 3 parts, and there are loads of things you pick up a hint of in an earlier (chronologicaaly later) section and then find out later. I'm trying to decide whether it stands a second reading when you already know what the twists are.

Listening... The first album I ever bought was So far, so good by Bran Adams, a 'best of' in the early-to-mid 90s. It was on tape, the tape went wobbly, a friend did me a copy, the copy went wobbly. I saw Anthology, a two disk* retrospective, and thought it might be a good replacement. Thank you, Mr Adams, all the old stuff, which is cheesy but good, is on the first disc** The newer stuff, which is cheesy in the worsst possible sense, is on the second disck. Saves trying to skip tracks while driving. However, as the first diskc is pretty much So Far, So Good, perhaps I would have been better just replacing my original album with a CD version...

* Or maybe it should be a 'c'.
**Or maybe it should be a 'k'. Who knows?

Really, how hard can it be?

Six weeks after I sent all the information, and a few days after the final mortgage offer was supposed to have been posted to us, the mortgage company ring up. We use an internet bank so the statements I posted in don't have our address on, so can't be used as proof of our address. Now, had they told me this six weeks ago and asked for alternative proof, I would have been happy. As they didn't, and I want my house NOW, I am pretty livid. They did apologise and accept it was their fault, so I haven't asked for anyone's liver to be posted to me in a box to appease my wrath. Yet.

Win-win-ish

I have an interview for a job on Friday. It's a temporary housing officer job in central Manchester. I'd like it because:

• It's more responsibility and a definite career progression
• It's more money
• I would get to do rent arrears and lettings as well as tenancy issues, which would be very interesting

I'm not sure about it because:

• I'd be leaving a permanent post for an up-to-12-months post. Housing is a fairly buyant sector, but I am enjoying my new-found job security!
• I'd like to start doing my professional qualifications, but I can't see the new company paying for that when I'd only be there 12 months or so
• I really like the people I work with. Working with good people is not something to take lightly
• We'd have to buy another car which we can't really afford

I wouldn't want you to think I can't make decisions on my own, but I would be interested in what you think.