So after a year of bending ears and being annoying, my employers have agreed to let me do the qualification that I should have to do the job I do.
Sounds slightly backwards I know, but although experience is very nice, having those bit of paper do matter sometimes......particularly when it comes to Ofsted inspectors apparently which is the real reason behind why I am being allowed to do a qualification.
When I first moved from the Private Sector into Education and the Wonderful World of the Public Sector (where according to the Daily Mail we all turn up for 3 hours a day, sit in gold-plated chairs and generally do very little until the day we can retire early with our amazing pensions that pay us all a huge sum of money so we spend our twilight years living up on the Costa-Del-Sol) one of the things I did think might be a perk of the job was that the training should be easily accessible and, indeed, very good. Now I have been assured by curriculum staff (and indeed many of the students I look after) that the training on offer is very good. I just haven't be allowed to do any of it myself.
It's not that I think these things should be handed out by employers like Smarties, but I do think good training is important. And if you can help your staff to get properly qualified the all the better. They will be better at their jobs, you get to have staff that tick all the boxes and (believe it or not) they will appreciate you for it.
The problem I am wrestling with today, is that although I am really grateful to have been given the opportunity to train, the NVQ they have enrolled me on is a Level 2, and I should be doing the Level 4.....not just because I am Great (although we already know this to be true) but because the Mandatory Units in the Level 2 do not match my job role in any way, shape or form because that qualification is designed for people who work on Reception desks, whereas I am the person to whom the people on the Reception desk send people for appointments.
The upshot of this whole debacle is that I am going to not only have to do big piles of homework to complete this qualification, I am going to have to create work so that I meet the Mandatory Units (and indeed the optional ones as these don't tie-in either). The qualification is not the right level, therefore I won't be able to put it on my CV or it will look like I'm lying about what my duties actually are to future prospective employers as to get the Level 2 you need to be doing different types of work to what I actually do, and employers in my industry will know this as they will be familiar with it. Add to that the fact that if I leave within 2 years, I will have to pay back the cost of my training (which is highly likely due to the fact that I am on a fixed-term contract and I can't risk staying right to the wire if they don't renew it, and in my game at the moment, you have to go where there is work as the Government are pulling funding left, right and centre) and it really doesn't seem like I will be getting a good deal out of this.
I will be left with a qualification I can't use, which will cause me huge amounts of extra work and stress over the next few months, which I will also have to pay for. I don't think I'm going to bother, although it will be interesting to see how they react to that. I am yet to really put my foot down with this employer and I have a feeling it will explode in my face........am I being ungrateful and unreasonable? Maybe I am........I just don't know any more......
Tuesday, 22 June 2010
Monday, 21 June 2010
The Bank
On a totally unrelated note, I REALLY hate my bank.
Evil, money grabbing, tight-fisted, moronic, twisted, thieving, fascist, satanic, nasty, egotistical, lying, hateful, backstabbing, monstrous BASTARDS!!!!!!!
There, now I feel better......
Evil, money grabbing, tight-fisted, moronic, twisted, thieving, fascist, satanic, nasty, egotistical, lying, hateful, backstabbing, monstrous BASTARDS!!!!!!!
There, now I feel better......
Work Work Work Work....
Recently I have felt like the weekends just aren't long enough....and neither are the evenings. It is odd because I have always had a full-time job and although the days of 60hr weeks are a long way behind me, at the moment it seems I am always there and just don't have enough hours left over for relaxing or a social life.
This may be because my job makes me really tired and I spend most of my time there being REALLY stressed so by the time I've got home and wound down, it is time for me to go to bed, get some sleep and then start the next day all over again....this is all well and good but by the time the weekend comes around, I have no energy (or indeed enough spare cash) left over for socialising with my family and friends.
I know I'm still a bit broken since the death of my father and that the aforementioned event left me feeling less like the party animal I once was. I also know that although I have joked about the impending doom of my thirtieth birthday (which is now less than a fortnight away) it is still true that I am perhaps a little old to be continuing to burn the candle at both ends, and in the middle....in fact I pretty much used to just take a blowtorch to the candle and melt it to nothing. When I look back at my really wild days, at the time I was working 10hr shifts 5-6 days a week and STILL managing to fit all-night clubbing sessions in so it's obviously possible, I just think that if I did it now I would be in a coma within a month.
It does make me sad that I'm always too tired to do half the things I want to do, and that time feels as if it's slipping away from me way too quickly. On the weekends that I push myself too hard or drink too much, I spend Monday morning wandering around the office looking like a George Romero extra.
I suppose that's just life and I will have to get used to it, however, it still makes me a little sad.
This may be because my job makes me really tired and I spend most of my time there being REALLY stressed so by the time I've got home and wound down, it is time for me to go to bed, get some sleep and then start the next day all over again....this is all well and good but by the time the weekend comes around, I have no energy (or indeed enough spare cash) left over for socialising with my family and friends.
I know I'm still a bit broken since the death of my father and that the aforementioned event left me feeling less like the party animal I once was. I also know that although I have joked about the impending doom of my thirtieth birthday (which is now less than a fortnight away) it is still true that I am perhaps a little old to be continuing to burn the candle at both ends, and in the middle....in fact I pretty much used to just take a blowtorch to the candle and melt it to nothing. When I look back at my really wild days, at the time I was working 10hr shifts 5-6 days a week and STILL managing to fit all-night clubbing sessions in so it's obviously possible, I just think that if I did it now I would be in a coma within a month.
It does make me sad that I'm always too tired to do half the things I want to do, and that time feels as if it's slipping away from me way too quickly. On the weekends that I push myself too hard or drink too much, I spend Monday morning wandering around the office looking like a George Romero extra.
I suppose that's just life and I will have to get used to it, however, it still makes me a little sad.
Saturday, 12 June 2010
Why Do We Blog?
I've noticed that I generally come back to my blog when things in my life are generally going in a fairly crappy direction......I suppose it's almost like a form of counselling for me, I write the things that are in my head down and once they're out I feel slightly better for it. Most of the time it's just because I'm annoyed or angry about something, but I also write when I'm feeling sad. I don't always write the sad things down, because to open up to the interweb would be silly when you consider the fact that I struggle to talk to my closest friends but I do write something down. It's a very cathartic experience for me, and I like reading back over old posts, knowing that I'm the only person in the whole world who actually knows what each one was all about at the time. They bring back many memories, some happy, some not so happy but the actual act of writing is something I don't think I will ever tire of.
I like flicking through other people's blogs, as it interests me why other people write theirs. I'd imagine there are some who have the same reasoning that I do, and find writing a useful coping tool. After perusing a number, however, it did strike me that there are a HUGE amount of people out there who really do like to say:
"Check Out My GREAT Life! Neh neh neh neeeeh neh"
I think if I had to trawl through just one more selection of happy, smiling family photos, I may just launched my laptop out the window.
Now, I know that nobody really follows my blog. I get the odd visitor from time to time but this collection of scribblings really is for me. If people want to read it, great. But I don't really mind if they don't, I would still be here whiling away the small hours drivelling on about nonsense. I wouldn't know how to go about being creative for the benefit of others, for me art is all about the self-indulgent. I create things for me, to make me feel good. Even when I'm writing songs, or singing, it's still all about me. If you're watching, you may be fooled into thinking that I'm performing for an audience.
You would be wrong.
It's ALWAYS all about me.
Don't let anybody else fool you into thinking that ANYTHING they do that's remotely creative really is for the viewer, it never is. It's not just me being a self-indulgent, self-obsessed, attention seeking crazy person. There are millions of us, all out there, vying for your attention. It's really not about gathering opinions either. Anybody who is creative knows whether they are happy with their work or not. If they have made something and you don't like it, well you are just plain wrong, and that's all there is to it.
That's what annoys me about all those Happy Family/Happy Holiday/Happy Children/Happy Anything Blogs. They just don't feel honest to me, the people who write them always make out liek they're for someone else. But they aren't.
I don't get it.
I like flicking through other people's blogs, as it interests me why other people write theirs. I'd imagine there are some who have the same reasoning that I do, and find writing a useful coping tool. After perusing a number, however, it did strike me that there are a HUGE amount of people out there who really do like to say:
"Check Out My GREAT Life! Neh neh neh neeeeh neh"
I think if I had to trawl through just one more selection of happy, smiling family photos, I may just launched my laptop out the window.
Now, I know that nobody really follows my blog. I get the odd visitor from time to time but this collection of scribblings really is for me. If people want to read it, great. But I don't really mind if they don't, I would still be here whiling away the small hours drivelling on about nonsense. I wouldn't know how to go about being creative for the benefit of others, for me art is all about the self-indulgent. I create things for me, to make me feel good. Even when I'm writing songs, or singing, it's still all about me. If you're watching, you may be fooled into thinking that I'm performing for an audience.
You would be wrong.
It's ALWAYS all about me.
Don't let anybody else fool you into thinking that ANYTHING they do that's remotely creative really is for the viewer, it never is. It's not just me being a self-indulgent, self-obsessed, attention seeking crazy person. There are millions of us, all out there, vying for your attention. It's really not about gathering opinions either. Anybody who is creative knows whether they are happy with their work or not. If they have made something and you don't like it, well you are just plain wrong, and that's all there is to it.
That's what annoys me about all those Happy Family/Happy Holiday/Happy Children/Happy Anything Blogs. They just don't feel honest to me, the people who write them always make out liek they're for someone else. But they aren't.
I don't get it.
Thursday, 10 June 2010
Tattoo Me!!!!
What with all the things I've had to keep me distracted from my blog of late, I forgot to mention that I finally got one of the "Things to do Before I'm 30" items checked off the list.
This photo is from the first sitting of my shiny new tattoo....instead of going for something small, I went for a much larger back piece (although even though it is now "finished" I am sure more will be added to it.
As soon as I get a photo of the finished product, I shall be posting it on here as I'm super happy with it.
All the shading is done and I have vines and flowers twisted across the top and bottom.
Having a tattoo done on my back was a very strange experience, I have no idea what other parts of the body feel like to have tattooed as this is currently my one and only, however, there were parts that I could hardly feel at all whereas other parts hurt so badly, I felt like I was in serious danger of turning around and punching my tattooist in the face!
The one thing I would recommend to anybody thinking of getting a tattoo done is DON'T just go into the studio and flick through the books to find the one you want. Those are designs that lots of people have. If you want something different and original, start with an image and google it. I went through thousands of pictures of butterflies before I settled on some that I liked and then we took those and turned them into a design that worked on my back. Thus making my permanent (and it IS permanent, don't forget) slightly more personal. Although I didn't do the actual tattoo, it feels like something I have worked on.
Love it Love it Love it!!!!
The Wicked Game....?
So.
I have started singing again. On Monday, over 10 years since I last got up on a stage to sing, me and my friend got up and did a few songs at our local open mic night.
I had seriously forgotten how good it felt to be up in front of people, or how comfortable it would be. I was a bit nervous before we went on, but really I was more excited. I don't understand why I've left it so long as it felt more like home than any other job I've ever done.....
Back in my younger days, I think I honestly believed that fame and fortune would get dropped in my lap and when that didn't happen, I got despondent and stopped bothering. Now I know the ONLY way to do this and make it work is both hard work and shameless self-promotion.
I am just hoping we haven't left it too late, and that we're going to be able to get to a point with it where we don't have to actually work our day jobs. It was really hard on Tuesday, after the dizzying high of singing to a room full of people the night before, to go into work and just get on with things like spreadsheets........
I have started singing again. On Monday, over 10 years since I last got up on a stage to sing, me and my friend got up and did a few songs at our local open mic night.
I had seriously forgotten how good it felt to be up in front of people, or how comfortable it would be. I was a bit nervous before we went on, but really I was more excited. I don't understand why I've left it so long as it felt more like home than any other job I've ever done.....
Back in my younger days, I think I honestly believed that fame and fortune would get dropped in my lap and when that didn't happen, I got despondent and stopped bothering. Now I know the ONLY way to do this and make it work is both hard work and shameless self-promotion.
I am just hoping we haven't left it too late, and that we're going to be able to get to a point with it where we don't have to actually work our day jobs. It was really hard on Tuesday, after the dizzying high of singing to a room full of people the night before, to go into work and just get on with things like spreadsheets........
Tuesday, 1 June 2010
WTF!!!
I am a compooter nerd and I only just noticed :-s
This is Very Bad Indeed.
God, what if I start LIKING Star Trek...???
I would like to state for the record, whilst I am still in control of my faculties, PLEASE if you EVER hear me say that Deep Space Nine "isn't all that bad" you have my complete permission to slap me as hard as you can in the face and then shake me until I come to my senses....!
This is Very Bad Indeed.
God, what if I start LIKING Star Trek...???
I would like to state for the record, whilst I am still in control of my faculties, PLEASE if you EVER hear me say that Deep Space Nine "isn't all that bad" you have my complete permission to slap me as hard as you can in the face and then shake me until I come to my senses....!
Thursday, 15 April 2010
And Another Thing....
I would just like to take a moment to share how annoying it is when you have insomnia and your partner doesn't.
I may have mentioned this particular source of irritation in previous posts, but it has been so very long since I last blogged that I figured I may as well go over it again.
At the moment, I am surviving on an average of FOUR HOURS of proper sleep a night (hence the return of my ramblings on here). It is frustrating as I am tired ALL OF THE TIME and spend the vast majority of my daytime hours wandering around like a lost extra from Dawn of the Dead...
If this wasn't bad enough, the Wifey still has the very unfair ability of being able to sleep both anywhere and anytime. She currently comatose on the other end of the sofa, every so often I have to dodge a flailing leg, but apart from that she is out for the count...
If I try and get her to go to bed without me, she will inevitably demand that I accompany her to bed where, despite the fact I am currently unable to sleep until around the 2am mark every night, I am apparently expected to TRY.
For people who don't suffer from sleepless nights, the WORST thing that somebody who can sleep at the drop of a hat can do to you, is insist that you deal with your aforementioned total lack of sleep, by watching them enjoy spending time in the Land of Nod...
Just to set the record straight,
THIS IS NOT HELPFUL.
You Bastards.
In Fact, It's VERY ANNOYING. If I want to do something like watch a film or play computer games, this will distract me from the fact that the thing I want more than anything else in the whole entire Universe is to go to sleep. Watching YOU sleep DOES NOT help with this (funnily enough).
*Sighs Loudly*
I may have mentioned this particular source of irritation in previous posts, but it has been so very long since I last blogged that I figured I may as well go over it again.
At the moment, I am surviving on an average of FOUR HOURS of proper sleep a night (hence the return of my ramblings on here). It is frustrating as I am tired ALL OF THE TIME and spend the vast majority of my daytime hours wandering around like a lost extra from Dawn of the Dead...
If this wasn't bad enough, the Wifey still has the very unfair ability of being able to sleep both anywhere and anytime. She currently comatose on the other end of the sofa, every so often I have to dodge a flailing leg, but apart from that she is out for the count...
If I try and get her to go to bed without me, she will inevitably demand that I accompany her to bed where, despite the fact I am currently unable to sleep until around the 2am mark every night, I am apparently expected to TRY.
For people who don't suffer from sleepless nights, the WORST thing that somebody who can sleep at the drop of a hat can do to you, is insist that you deal with your aforementioned total lack of sleep, by watching them enjoy spending time in the Land of Nod...
Just to set the record straight,
THIS IS NOT HELPFUL.
You Bastards.
In Fact, It's VERY ANNOYING. If I want to do something like watch a film or play computer games, this will distract me from the fact that the thing I want more than anything else in the whole entire Universe is to go to sleep. Watching YOU sleep DOES NOT help with this (funnily enough).
*Sighs Loudly*
Basement Dwellers of the World, Unite!!
Damn...
I thought I'd managed to get past my seriously nerdy Internet addiction but it seems each week I am finding new guilty pleasures.
I have finally kicked the Facebook habit (to a degree) and, finally, my life has stopped being dominated by the urge to play with my farm/cafe/sorority/mafia/restaurant/town etc etc etc...
This is because I have now discovered the wonderful world of Evony, a fantabulous home for all those of us who secretly miss the joys of Civilisation. However, it seems to be sucking up such vast amounts of my time that I can't remember what my relatives look like.
I have also started talking like a Star Trek nerd, which is fine when you are talking to overweight Americans who live in Mom's basement, not so much when in conversation with people in the "real" world.
The strangest thing about it all is, I really am no better than the basement dwellers and have realised that I really AM a giant nerd.
I just get away with it cos I'm not ginger.......
I thought I'd managed to get past my seriously nerdy Internet addiction but it seems each week I am finding new guilty pleasures.
I have finally kicked the Facebook habit (to a degree) and, finally, my life has stopped being dominated by the urge to play with my farm/cafe/sorority/mafia/restaurant/town etc etc etc...
This is because I have now discovered the wonderful world of Evony, a fantabulous home for all those of us who secretly miss the joys of Civilisation. However, it seems to be sucking up such vast amounts of my time that I can't remember what my relatives look like.
I have also started talking like a Star Trek nerd, which is fine when you are talking to overweight Americans who live in Mom's basement, not so much when in conversation with people in the "real" world.
The strangest thing about it all is, I really am no better than the basement dwellers and have realised that I really AM a giant nerd.
I just get away with it cos I'm not ginger.......
Wednesday, 29 April 2009
Question
What is the Point of Snooker?
Apart from being a brilliant sleep-aid. Works better than Nytol for me!
Apart from being a brilliant sleep-aid. Works better than Nytol for me!
A Moment of Calm....
I've been doing a lot of thinking lately.
I've realised (after much tortured musing) that the reason I always feel like everything has gone horribly wrong isn't actually because it has. My life is actually going fairly well. I'm happily married, I have a job that pays well and I (mostly) enjoy doing, I'm healthy (apart from the fags), I have all my limbs (touch wood), I have two cats who love me very much (as long as I remain the provider of food, water and unsolicited cuddles) and I have some marvellous and interesting friends.
What I don't have is autonomous control over everything I do.
This is the problem with having a job. You need one to pay for food, heat, a roof and all those other things it's hard to live without. I don't feel in control of my working day as ultimately, somebody else decides what I should be doing. My job is pretty great, as far as jobs go, but I don't actually want to be working for somebody else forever.
I don't really know how I'm supposed to tackle this. I'm rapidly approaching thirty and time could be an issue. As is money. However, since I had this epiphany, I've found myself moaning a whole lot less. It's like something has switched over inside my head and I don't get so angry about things these days. Being calm is very strange for me, I feel like I've been annoyed for years and suddenly, a cloud has completely lifted from above my head. I'm not sure that this is permanent but I do feel better for the moment.
The next obstacle to overcome is the hulking great one where I have to make a decision about what I want to do. And then, when I've made said decision, I'll have to actually attempt to stick to it. And not get bored and start chasing the next interesting thing that comes along five minutes later......
Could be tricky......
I've realised (after much tortured musing) that the reason I always feel like everything has gone horribly wrong isn't actually because it has. My life is actually going fairly well. I'm happily married, I have a job that pays well and I (mostly) enjoy doing, I'm healthy (apart from the fags), I have all my limbs (touch wood), I have two cats who love me very much (as long as I remain the provider of food, water and unsolicited cuddles) and I have some marvellous and interesting friends.
What I don't have is autonomous control over everything I do.
This is the problem with having a job. You need one to pay for food, heat, a roof and all those other things it's hard to live without. I don't feel in control of my working day as ultimately, somebody else decides what I should be doing. My job is pretty great, as far as jobs go, but I don't actually want to be working for somebody else forever.
I don't really know how I'm supposed to tackle this. I'm rapidly approaching thirty and time could be an issue. As is money. However, since I had this epiphany, I've found myself moaning a whole lot less. It's like something has switched over inside my head and I don't get so angry about things these days. Being calm is very strange for me, I feel like I've been annoyed for years and suddenly, a cloud has completely lifted from above my head. I'm not sure that this is permanent but I do feel better for the moment.
The next obstacle to overcome is the hulking great one where I have to make a decision about what I want to do. And then, when I've made said decision, I'll have to actually attempt to stick to it. And not get bored and start chasing the next interesting thing that comes along five minutes later......
Could be tricky......
Tuesday, 24 February 2009
Oh for God's Sake!!
My Internet keeps breaking down.
It's really annoying.
I want to break things. (That aren't my computer because it might start working again if I'm nice).
Ho Hum.
At least I've had a productive day I suppose and I've actually remembered to start writing my blog again which has lapsed woefully over the last year. Which is partly because Facebook isn't working again today and won't let me do anything I want to do.
'Sigh'
Maybe this will inspire me to actually leave the house occasionally and catch up with some of the friends I've been neglecting too.
F**K IT!!
I know, I'll use my time to do something amazingly fun and exciting.
Or I could just sit here writing drivel seeing as all my creativity seems to have been completely sucked out of me. At least I know nobody's reading this, probably because I am rather erratic when it comes to remembering to post, and also because I mainly write drivel, which isn't the sort of thing I read when I've got nothing better to do. So I can't really expect anybody else to want to read it either.
I've been thinking about my life a lot recently. When I was in my teens, I really thought I'd have things sorted out by now. I was going to be rich and famous, live in a big house and not have to worry about crap stuff like bills and hanging out the washing that is currently sitting in it's basket staring at me. It hasn't quite gone according to plan although the things that have gone well have beaten my expectations by miles.
What I did think I might actually do (big house in the country and my own line of soft drinks aside) was to actually be earning money for doing fun, creative things. I regret bitterly that I've managed to sustain my complete inability to properly see anything through. And, indeed, my abject laziness, which is probably the thing that holds me back the most.
The only thing I have really sustained is my amazing ability to moan at great length about the fact that nothing seems to be working out by itself.
I don't think I can get paid for that.......
It's really annoying.
I want to break things. (That aren't my computer because it might start working again if I'm nice).
Ho Hum.
At least I've had a productive day I suppose and I've actually remembered to start writing my blog again which has lapsed woefully over the last year. Which is partly because Facebook isn't working again today and won't let me do anything I want to do.
'Sigh'
Maybe this will inspire me to actually leave the house occasionally and catch up with some of the friends I've been neglecting too.
F**K IT!!
I know, I'll use my time to do something amazingly fun and exciting.
Or I could just sit here writing drivel seeing as all my creativity seems to have been completely sucked out of me. At least I know nobody's reading this, probably because I am rather erratic when it comes to remembering to post, and also because I mainly write drivel, which isn't the sort of thing I read when I've got nothing better to do. So I can't really expect anybody else to want to read it either.
I've been thinking about my life a lot recently. When I was in my teens, I really thought I'd have things sorted out by now. I was going to be rich and famous, live in a big house and not have to worry about crap stuff like bills and hanging out the washing that is currently sitting in it's basket staring at me. It hasn't quite gone according to plan although the things that have gone well have beaten my expectations by miles.
What I did think I might actually do (big house in the country and my own line of soft drinks aside) was to actually be earning money for doing fun, creative things. I regret bitterly that I've managed to sustain my complete inability to properly see anything through. And, indeed, my abject laziness, which is probably the thing that holds me back the most.
The only thing I have really sustained is my amazing ability to moan at great length about the fact that nothing seems to be working out by itself.
I don't think I can get paid for that.......
Monday, 8 December 2008
Help! I Lost Me......
The interesting thing about death is how it makes you feel.
My father passed away last month and since then, I haven't felt like I know who I am, what I'm doing or where I'm going.
The funny thing is, I struggle to remember a time when he wasn't ill. 'They' had been telling us he had six months left since I was about sixteen, so to have had him for an extra twelve years was great. I don't think I ever believed that the day would come that he wouldn't be here any more, and although it wasn't the biggest shock in the world, I still feel as if none of this is real and I've spent the last four weeks dreaming.
Some days I feel so empty, I don't want to get out of bed. These low times are interspersed with periods of extreme hyperactivity, where I run round like Speedy Gonzales at ninety miles an hour, multi-tasking like there will be no tomorrow.
It's like I'm lost and looking for a way back to the entrance of a vast labyrinth. If I can get there, everything will go back to normal, and I'll be able to feel like a person again. I've never really been one for 'fitting in' but at the moment it's like I'm watching the world, rather than being a part of it.
I've been avoiding my friends.
I haven't meant to but I know I've been doing it. I've managed family gatherings but when it comes to spending time with the people who know me best, I've been really struggling to face them. Maybe it's because in some part of my head, I know that they'll be able to see clearly that everything is not right. I can't paper over the cracks so well with people that can see through me like I'm glass so I avoid all contact with them because that way, I won't have to face how empty I feel.
I refuse to go to a therapist or doctor.
I think that the prospect of either being encouraged to take drugs, or talk about my feelings with a complete stranger is even more daunting that the idea of facing this on my own. You can read lots of information about bereavement, and it all pretty much says the same thing. It will make you weird for a while. It will hurt for even longer. But, in the end, all of this will go away.
What it gets replaced with, I'm not sure............
My father passed away last month and since then, I haven't felt like I know who I am, what I'm doing or where I'm going.
The funny thing is, I struggle to remember a time when he wasn't ill. 'They' had been telling us he had six months left since I was about sixteen, so to have had him for an extra twelve years was great. I don't think I ever believed that the day would come that he wouldn't be here any more, and although it wasn't the biggest shock in the world, I still feel as if none of this is real and I've spent the last four weeks dreaming.
Some days I feel so empty, I don't want to get out of bed. These low times are interspersed with periods of extreme hyperactivity, where I run round like Speedy Gonzales at ninety miles an hour, multi-tasking like there will be no tomorrow.
It's like I'm lost and looking for a way back to the entrance of a vast labyrinth. If I can get there, everything will go back to normal, and I'll be able to feel like a person again. I've never really been one for 'fitting in' but at the moment it's like I'm watching the world, rather than being a part of it.
I've been avoiding my friends.
I haven't meant to but I know I've been doing it. I've managed family gatherings but when it comes to spending time with the people who know me best, I've been really struggling to face them. Maybe it's because in some part of my head, I know that they'll be able to see clearly that everything is not right. I can't paper over the cracks so well with people that can see through me like I'm glass so I avoid all contact with them because that way, I won't have to face how empty I feel.
I refuse to go to a therapist or doctor.
I think that the prospect of either being encouraged to take drugs, or talk about my feelings with a complete stranger is even more daunting that the idea of facing this on my own. You can read lots of information about bereavement, and it all pretty much says the same thing. It will make you weird for a while. It will hurt for even longer. But, in the end, all of this will go away.
What it gets replaced with, I'm not sure............
Friday, 26 September 2008
Stand and Deliver!
I've recently spent a week in lovely Benidorm, Last Bastion of the British Empire.
You may well turn up your nose, but I found it to be one of the most relaxing holidays I've ever had. It was like it was 1989 all over again, the Land That Time Forgot. Cheap cigarettes, cheap beer and so much tacky entertainment I was spoilt for choice all week. It was also incredibly clean, the Spanish were super friendly and when I attempted my broken efforts at the local language, merely chuckled and spoke back in such perfect English, I was embarrassed by my dulcet Hampshire slang.
It is also possible to enjoy a Full English Breakfast there for about twelve pence (okay, I'm exaggerating again but it was Super Cheap). As you dear reader will be aware of, a Full English Breakfast is essential for any English tourist with a chronic hangover.
Obviously I was VERY SHOCKED on returning to Blighty and being charged SEVENTEEN POUNDS for two breakfasts (with coffee) at a Motorway Service Station.
In the olden days, men with masks and guns would halt the progress of carriages demanding the frightened passengers hand over either their money or their life. This was how I was made to feel on Monday morning. I was Very Hungry Indeed and as I had spent a week existing on fry-ups, was not quite ready to give them up before my return to work and the inevitable diet that would ensue. I don't understand how they get away with it! Surely Motorway Service Stations are not THAT expensive to run. The other shocking thing was that it was packed. Many people were trying their best to enjoy their breakfasts, safe in the knowledge that they now had no money left for their proposed day out.
At least Dick Turpin was honest in his intentions, he never (as far as I'm aware) referred to his dastardly deeds as a 'Welcome Break' to his victims.
You may well turn up your nose, but I found it to be one of the most relaxing holidays I've ever had. It was like it was 1989 all over again, the Land That Time Forgot. Cheap cigarettes, cheap beer and so much tacky entertainment I was spoilt for choice all week. It was also incredibly clean, the Spanish were super friendly and when I attempted my broken efforts at the local language, merely chuckled and spoke back in such perfect English, I was embarrassed by my dulcet Hampshire slang.
It is also possible to enjoy a Full English Breakfast there for about twelve pence (okay, I'm exaggerating again but it was Super Cheap). As you dear reader will be aware of, a Full English Breakfast is essential for any English tourist with a chronic hangover.
Obviously I was VERY SHOCKED on returning to Blighty and being charged SEVENTEEN POUNDS for two breakfasts (with coffee) at a Motorway Service Station.
In the olden days, men with masks and guns would halt the progress of carriages demanding the frightened passengers hand over either their money or their life. This was how I was made to feel on Monday morning. I was Very Hungry Indeed and as I had spent a week existing on fry-ups, was not quite ready to give them up before my return to work and the inevitable diet that would ensue. I don't understand how they get away with it! Surely Motorway Service Stations are not THAT expensive to run. The other shocking thing was that it was packed. Many people were trying their best to enjoy their breakfasts, safe in the knowledge that they now had no money left for their proposed day out.
At least Dick Turpin was honest in his intentions, he never (as far as I'm aware) referred to his dastardly deeds as a 'Welcome Break' to his victims.
Friday, 12 September 2008
Wednesday, 10 September 2008
Help!!!
I'm getting married in two days!!!
The getting married is very great but the ORGANISING that has been continual and never-ending for the last 6 months has been rather stressful!!!!!!!
Hence my overuse of exclamation marks.
I can't wait :-)
I might have some time to get back to writing after this.........
The getting married is very great but the ORGANISING that has been continual and never-ending for the last 6 months has been rather stressful!!!!!!!
Hence my overuse of exclamation marks.
I can't wait :-)
I might have some time to get back to writing after this.........
Tuesday, 22 July 2008
I'm an Internet Junkie.....
I've been spending way too much time on my computer lately.
First there was the blog.
Now there is Facebook.
There is also BBC News 24, The Times Online and the Southern Daily Echo (which I read because I find the comments people leave hilarious rather than because I really care about local issues).
I'm starting to worry that in between my constant love affair with my computer, the scarily large number of books I read(as highlighted in the last post) and my late night addiction to DVD Box sets, I have stopped actually talking to other people.
Maybe that's a good thing. I haven't pissed anyone off (to my knowledge) for at least a week.....
First there was the blog.
Now there is Facebook.
There is also BBC News 24, The Times Online and the Southern Daily Echo (which I read because I find the comments people leave hilarious rather than because I really care about local issues).
I'm starting to worry that in between my constant love affair with my computer, the scarily large number of books I read(as highlighted in the last post) and my late night addiction to DVD Box sets, I have stopped actually talking to other people.
Maybe that's a good thing. I haven't pissed anyone off (to my knowledge) for at least a week.....
A Little Aside From The Masterpiece....
Many Thanks to Toadee for this interesting little piece (please view his excellent musings by following the link on the side menu)-
The Big Read reckons that the average adult has only read 6 of the top 100 books they've printed. Well let's see.
1) Look at the list and bold those you have read.
2) Italicise those you intend to read.
3) Underline the books you LOVE. (I've put mine in red)
4) Reprint this list in your own journal/blog so we can try and track down these people who've read 6 and force books upon them ;-)
1 Pride and Prejudice
2 The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien
3 Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte
4 Harry Potter series - JK Rowling
5 To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
6 The Bible
7 Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte
8 Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell
9 His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
10 Great Expectations - Charles Dickens
11 Little Women - Louisa M Alcott
12 Tess of the D'Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy
13 Catch 22 - Joseph Heller
14 Complete Works of Shakespeare
15 Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier
16 The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien
17 Birdsong - Sebastian Faulks
18 Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger
19 The Time Traveller's Wife - Audrey Niffenegger
20 Middlemarch - George Eliot
21 Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell
22 The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald
23 Bleak House - Charles Dickens
24 War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
25 The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
26 Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh
27 Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
28 Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck
29 Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll
30 The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame
31 Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy
32 David Copperfield - Charles Dickens
33 Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis
34 Emma - Jane Austen
35 Persuasion - Jane Austen
36 The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - CS Lewis
37 The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini
38 Captain Corelli's Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres
39 Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden
40 Winnie the Pooh - AA Milne
41 Animal Farm - George Orwell
42 The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown
43 One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
44 A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving
45 The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins
46 Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery
47 Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy
48 The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood
49 Lord of the Flies - William Golding
50 Atonement - Ian McEwan
51 Life of Pi - Yann Martel
52 Dune - Frank Herbert
53 Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons
54 Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen
55 A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth
56 The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon
57 A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens
58 Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
59 The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon
60 Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
61 Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck
62 Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov
63 The Secret History - Donna Tartt
64 The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold
65 Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas
66 On The Road - Jack Kerouac
67 Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy
68 Bridget Jones' Diary - Helen Fielding
69 Midnight's Children - Salman Rushdie
70 Moby Dick - Herman Melville
71 Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens
72 Dracula - Bram Stoker
73 The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett
74 Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson
75 Ulysses - James Joyce
76 The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
77 Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
78 Germinal - Emile Zola
79 Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray
80 Possession - AS Byatt
81 A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens
82 Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
83 The Color Purple - Alice Walker
84 The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
85 Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert
86 A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry
87 Charlotte's Web - EB White
88 The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom
89 Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
90 The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton
91 Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad
92 The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery
93 The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks
94 Watership Down - Richard Adams
95 A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole
96 A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute
97 The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas
98 Hamlet - William Shakespeare
99 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl
100 Les Miserables - Victor Hugo
I've read 48 of these...... And frankly, not all of the one's I've read were all that good. I would advise burning Jane Austen. Cloud Atlas is a lovely book, am a huge fan of Dickens, and Daphne du Maurier and Alexandre Dumas Rock!! This list is missing 'The Wind Up Bird Chronicle' by Haruki Murakami, which is the most beautiful book I've ever read. Read more people, it's okay, we won't tell anyone!!! :-)
The Big Read reckons that the average adult has only read 6 of the top 100 books they've printed. Well let's see.
1) Look at the list and bold those you have read.
2) Italicise those you intend to read.
3) Underline the books you LOVE. (I've put mine in red)
4) Reprint this list in your own journal/blog so we can try and track down these people who've read 6 and force books upon them ;-)
1 Pride and Prejudice
2 The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien
3 Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte
4 Harry Potter series - JK Rowling
5 To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
6 The Bible
7 Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte
8 Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell
9 His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
10 Great Expectations - Charles Dickens
11 Little Women - Louisa M Alcott
12 Tess of the D'Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy
13 Catch 22 - Joseph Heller
14 Complete Works of Shakespeare
15 Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier
16 The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien
17 Birdsong - Sebastian Faulks
18 Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger
19 The Time Traveller's Wife - Audrey Niffenegger
20 Middlemarch - George Eliot
21 Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell
22 The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald
23 Bleak House - Charles Dickens
24 War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
25 The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
26 Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh
27 Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
28 Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck
29 Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll
30 The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame
31 Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy
32 David Copperfield - Charles Dickens
33 Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis
34 Emma - Jane Austen
35 Persuasion - Jane Austen
36 The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - CS Lewis
37 The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini
38 Captain Corelli's Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres
39 Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden
40 Winnie the Pooh - AA Milne
41 Animal Farm - George Orwell
42 The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown
43 One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
44 A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving
45 The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins
46 Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery
47 Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy
48 The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood
49 Lord of the Flies - William Golding
50 Atonement - Ian McEwan
51 Life of Pi - Yann Martel
52 Dune - Frank Herbert
53 Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons
54 Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen
55 A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth
56 The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon
57 A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens
58 Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
59 The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon
60 Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
61 Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck
62 Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov
63 The Secret History - Donna Tartt
64 The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold
65 Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas
66 On The Road - Jack Kerouac
67 Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy
68 Bridget Jones' Diary - Helen Fielding
69 Midnight's Children - Salman Rushdie
70 Moby Dick - Herman Melville
71 Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens
72 Dracula - Bram Stoker
73 The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett
74 Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson
75 Ulysses - James Joyce
76 The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
77 Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
78 Germinal - Emile Zola
79 Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray
80 Possession - AS Byatt
81 A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens
82 Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
83 The Color Purple - Alice Walker
84 The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
85 Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert
86 A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry
87 Charlotte's Web - EB White
88 The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom
89 Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
90 The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton
91 Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad
92 The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery
93 The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks
94 Watership Down - Richard Adams
95 A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole
96 A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute
97 The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas
98 Hamlet - William Shakespeare
99 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl
100 Les Miserables - Victor Hugo
I've read 48 of these...... And frankly, not all of the one's I've read were all that good. I would advise burning Jane Austen. Cloud Atlas is a lovely book, am a huge fan of Dickens, and Daphne du Maurier and Alexandre Dumas Rock!! This list is missing 'The Wind Up Bird Chronicle' by Haruki Murakami, which is the most beautiful book I've ever read. Read more people, it's okay, we won't tell anyone!!! :-)
Monday, 30 June 2008
Chapter Six
The coffee was bad. I'm no expert at coffee, I'll happily drink the instant stuff when I'm at home but in any other circumstance, I'd have set the cup back on the chipped saucer and left the coffee for somebody with a stronger stomach than mine. Or the drain, which is honestly where it belonged.
This, however, was not a normal day. It was not even a normal week and for once, I was relieved to be doing something Different. Michael sat across the table from me, the bright green eyes that had somehow managed to hypnotise me into agreeing to have a horrible coffee with a complete stranger were still fixed on mine, so I hung on to my cup like a security blanket and enjoyed the heat emanating from its murky depths, if not the acrid taste.
"I don't do this often." he smiled again, and those green eyes crinkled at the edges ever so slightly.
"Neither do I." I replied, and returning his smile I continued to wonder how this had happened. Don't get me wrong, I've had plenty of dates before. There have been lovers lost over the years but I'd never picked somebody up off the street. Actually, he'd picked me up when I'd almost smashed my face into the kerb and then, after a bit of small talk, he'd persuaded me to join him in the greasy spoon cafe that was situated, somewhat ironically, three doors down from the doctor's surgery. Hence the bad coffee.
The conversation meandered along a little awkwardly for a while longer and as we made our excuses to leave I found him pressing a slip of paper into my hand.
"In case you'd like to join me for a terrible coffee again." the green eyes sparkled and he leaned in, his lips barely grazing my cheek.
"Goodbye, and thank-you." I stuttered. It was as if he had read my mind but then he looked pretty human and the coffee really did appear to have been made for somebody with the constitution of an elephant.
I wouldn't call him.
That had been just a little too strange and on any other day, I'd have brushed myself off, thanked him and headed straight for the car. It must have been the lack of sleep and the general feeling that I was headed towards some sort of disaster that had made me behave in such an uncharacteristically reckless way. I stood in the doorway of the cafe, the smell of frying bacon wafting around me and out onto the street, calling people to the temple of the fried breakfast in a way that no fancy advertising could compete with. He didn't look back once. I watched the back of his head, light brown hair, disappear into the distance as he headed towards the busier end of the street, people milled around him looking lost and soulless in the way that every city centre shopper does. Just one more bargain. Just one. And then he was gone.
I breathed out. I hadn't even realised that I had been holding my breath until then. There was something familiar about Michael. I wondered if we'd met before, maybe he'd been one of Anna's friends. There's been many over the years and he was good looking enough to have been part of her crowd. Anna didn't have ugly friends. As I started walking towards the car park, I resolved to ring her as soon as I got home. I'd brush over the trip to the doctor, I wasn't ready to explain That part of my day but at the very least it would be like old times, the both of us giggling over a boy.
And for just a moment, I forgot about the nightmares that had been chasing me. Just for a moment.
This, however, was not a normal day. It was not even a normal week and for once, I was relieved to be doing something Different. Michael sat across the table from me, the bright green eyes that had somehow managed to hypnotise me into agreeing to have a horrible coffee with a complete stranger were still fixed on mine, so I hung on to my cup like a security blanket and enjoyed the heat emanating from its murky depths, if not the acrid taste.
"I don't do this often." he smiled again, and those green eyes crinkled at the edges ever so slightly.
"Neither do I." I replied, and returning his smile I continued to wonder how this had happened. Don't get me wrong, I've had plenty of dates before. There have been lovers lost over the years but I'd never picked somebody up off the street. Actually, he'd picked me up when I'd almost smashed my face into the kerb and then, after a bit of small talk, he'd persuaded me to join him in the greasy spoon cafe that was situated, somewhat ironically, three doors down from the doctor's surgery. Hence the bad coffee.
The conversation meandered along a little awkwardly for a while longer and as we made our excuses to leave I found him pressing a slip of paper into my hand.
"In case you'd like to join me for a terrible coffee again." the green eyes sparkled and he leaned in, his lips barely grazing my cheek.
"Goodbye, and thank-you." I stuttered. It was as if he had read my mind but then he looked pretty human and the coffee really did appear to have been made for somebody with the constitution of an elephant.
I wouldn't call him.
That had been just a little too strange and on any other day, I'd have brushed myself off, thanked him and headed straight for the car. It must have been the lack of sleep and the general feeling that I was headed towards some sort of disaster that had made me behave in such an uncharacteristically reckless way. I stood in the doorway of the cafe, the smell of frying bacon wafting around me and out onto the street, calling people to the temple of the fried breakfast in a way that no fancy advertising could compete with. He didn't look back once. I watched the back of his head, light brown hair, disappear into the distance as he headed towards the busier end of the street, people milled around him looking lost and soulless in the way that every city centre shopper does. Just one more bargain. Just one. And then he was gone.
I breathed out. I hadn't even realised that I had been holding my breath until then. There was something familiar about Michael. I wondered if we'd met before, maybe he'd been one of Anna's friends. There's been many over the years and he was good looking enough to have been part of her crowd. Anna didn't have ugly friends. As I started walking towards the car park, I resolved to ring her as soon as I got home. I'd brush over the trip to the doctor, I wasn't ready to explain That part of my day but at the very least it would be like old times, the both of us giggling over a boy.
And for just a moment, I forgot about the nightmares that had been chasing me. Just for a moment.
Wednesday, 30 January 2008
Chapter 5
"And then I woke up!"
The lie tasted bitter in my mouth but I hadn't slept properly for nearly a week and I needed the tablets that I knew the Doctor would prescribe for me if I didn't sound like a nutter. I couldn't face telling this stranger ,who I only ever saw twice yearly for my check-ups, that the face in my television had been Real. My home had become unfamiliar territory, I had become unable to enjoy the time I spent there and, worst of all, my lack of sleep had resulted in my Being Noticed at work.
For the first time in my life, I had been pulled into The Office to talk about my Poor Performance. I had fumbled my way through some sort of excuse about Family Issues and, luckily for me, my boss was extremely understanding. She kept getting my name wrong throughout our Chat, but apart from that she had been full of kindly suggestions. Apparently there was a company psychologist on the fifth floor and Everybody went to see him. I declined, probably a little too vehemently, and insisted that I would be back to normal within a few days.
So here I was. My palms were sweating and I hoped that the Doctor would not want to shake my hand when I left the room. He kept tapping the computer keyboard on his desk as I told him all about the 'nightmares' that I felt were being caused by 'pressure at work' and my 'strained relationship with my mother'. I couldn't work out whether he was buying it or not, he made very little eye contact and I've never been much of a liar.
The chair I was seated in squeaked every time I moved. This was a disaster. Even the family photographs on his desk were glaring at me in an accusatory way. I shouldn't have come here. I should have gone to the psychiatrist. I could have told the truth, and then, at least when the men in white coats came to take me away, I wouldn't have felt like a filthy liar.
After what felt like hours, he pulled a piece of green paper from the gray printer on the shelf behind him, scribbled on it and handed it across to me.
"These should help with the lack of sleep. If you need more when they run out, phone my receptionist and she'll organise a repeat prescription." he grunted.
My ordeal was over and I had been successful in my quest for sleeping tablets. I felt like a prizefighter after twelve rounds in the ring. I was so surprised at the ease in which I had won my battle that I wasn't really concentrating as I hurried down the concrete steps outside the clinic. As I stuffed my slip of green paper into my over sized leatherette handbag, I somehow managed to twist my ankle. My right hand was jammed in the bag, and as I began to fall, my dark woollen coat billowed out and wrapped around my left. I was falling, and just as my face was about to smash on the kerb, a strong arm wrapped around me and hauled me back from the brink of intense pain and probably the largest dentist bill of my life.
The lie tasted bitter in my mouth but I hadn't slept properly for nearly a week and I needed the tablets that I knew the Doctor would prescribe for me if I didn't sound like a nutter. I couldn't face telling this stranger ,who I only ever saw twice yearly for my check-ups, that the face in my television had been Real. My home had become unfamiliar territory, I had become unable to enjoy the time I spent there and, worst of all, my lack of sleep had resulted in my Being Noticed at work.
For the first time in my life, I had been pulled into The Office to talk about my Poor Performance. I had fumbled my way through some sort of excuse about Family Issues and, luckily for me, my boss was extremely understanding. She kept getting my name wrong throughout our Chat, but apart from that she had been full of kindly suggestions. Apparently there was a company psychologist on the fifth floor and Everybody went to see him. I declined, probably a little too vehemently, and insisted that I would be back to normal within a few days.
So here I was. My palms were sweating and I hoped that the Doctor would not want to shake my hand when I left the room. He kept tapping the computer keyboard on his desk as I told him all about the 'nightmares' that I felt were being caused by 'pressure at work' and my 'strained relationship with my mother'. I couldn't work out whether he was buying it or not, he made very little eye contact and I've never been much of a liar.
The chair I was seated in squeaked every time I moved. This was a disaster. Even the family photographs on his desk were glaring at me in an accusatory way. I shouldn't have come here. I should have gone to the psychiatrist. I could have told the truth, and then, at least when the men in white coats came to take me away, I wouldn't have felt like a filthy liar.
After what felt like hours, he pulled a piece of green paper from the gray printer on the shelf behind him, scribbled on it and handed it across to me.
"These should help with the lack of sleep. If you need more when they run out, phone my receptionist and she'll organise a repeat prescription." he grunted.
My ordeal was over and I had been successful in my quest for sleeping tablets. I felt like a prizefighter after twelve rounds in the ring. I was so surprised at the ease in which I had won my battle that I wasn't really concentrating as I hurried down the concrete steps outside the clinic. As I stuffed my slip of green paper into my over sized leatherette handbag, I somehow managed to twist my ankle. My right hand was jammed in the bag, and as I began to fall, my dark woollen coat billowed out and wrapped around my left. I was falling, and just as my face was about to smash on the kerb, a strong arm wrapped around me and hauled me back from the brink of intense pain and probably the largest dentist bill of my life.
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