Sophie and Tamara tomorrow!

You may not hear much from me this week, as I intend to spend a great deal of time with my sisters.
I shall be back with you in November; no doubt full of tales of family fun and much imbibement of vino. 
Have a good week.

RC 28-10-12

Two days til Sophie!

I spent most of today looking for a new job. I’m so hacked off with what’s happened this week that I can barely muster the enthusiasm to turn up. If they’re going to threaten me every time some smelly old shit-bag calls me unhelpful I might as well quit and let some other sucker deal with life’s twatsters. 
Oooh, I am angry today.
To cheer myself up, here’s some work-related haiku:

My boss is a tit
A corporate lapdog arse
Who shits on his staff

RC 27-10-12

Maybe I should quit

It’s been a long time since I’ve felt completely hacked-off about work, but today that feeling came roaring back in spades. And in clubs, diamonds and hearts as well. 
My ‘informal discussion’ ended with me being given a verbal warning, which means if one more customer complains about me I’ll be suspended for a week and served with  a ‘Final Written Warning’ after which I face the sack.
So much for the meeting not being disciplinary.
I was told that ‘as a member of the management team I am at the forefront of customer relations and that my attitude is interpreted as the attitude of the whole company and therefore my behaviour with each customer can have a huge outcome on the reputation and therefore success of the business as a whole’
I laughed a little and said “Are you really expecting me to believe that a multi-billion-pound international company might be taken down by me swearing at an 85-year-old  spinster? Sorry - but I just don’t think I’m that important”
And it all went downhill from there.
All this over a two-pound tin of biscuits…

RC 26-10-12

Oops - it happened again

There was a scene at work today.
And not a nice, pretty scene.
An ugly one.
Uglier than that fat girl who isn’t funny, who keeps popping up on BBC comedy shows, despite not being very funny.
Ugly.
Some old biddy was moaning about the fact that she couldn’t reach a tin of biscuits because they were sitting on the top shelf. She tried to collar one of my assistants to help her, but he had his arms full with a load of stock and told her politely that she’d have to wait a couple of minutes. That wasn’t good enough for her so she hunted me down and started going on about my employees being ‘unhelpful’ and ‘selfish’ and said the supermarket was ‘ageist’ and ‘unwelcoming’
In my caring, managerial way I said “Look - this store does a million pounds of business a week, we can’t centre our attention on some wrinkled old hag who wants a two-pound tin of biscuits”
So she complained about me.
As this has happened twice in a week, I have to have a meeting to discuss whether my attitude is correct and whether my demeanour towards customers is appropriate and non-confrontational. Graham was keen to point out that “It’s not a disciplinary. It’s an informal, informative, pre-disciplinary conflab to improve management/clientele relationships and avoid future hearings of a formal and possibly terminatory atmosphere.”
Yes, I’d switched off by the word ‘informal’ as well.

RC 25-10-12

haiku about the penguins

The wrong kind of birds
adorning the lawn outside
like plastic impressionists

RC 24-10-12

Not quite as advertised..

The plastic pink flamingoes arrived today. The delivery van rolled up almost exactly at the time they said it would, and the price was exactly as quoted. So everything’s perfect; except they’re not pink flamingoes, they’re penguins. 
I’ve stuck them in the garden anyway and it’s one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen. I put one beside the flower bed so it looked like he’s sniffing a pansy, and the other one in the corner staring at the fence like he’d been naughty.  Then (pausing only to take photographs) I sat one in the wheelbarrow with a plant pot on his head and hung the other upside-down from the security light. By now inspiration had struck so I spent most of the afternoon using them to recreate some of my favourite scenes from the movies. So I had them storming the beach at Normandy for ‘Saving Private Ryan’, tied up and gagged for ‘Pulp Fiction’ and in a very uncompromising position with some butter for ‘Last Tango In Paris.’
Now I’ve left them with one either side of the entrance to the driveway so you can see them as soon as you pull in. I think we should leave them there as a present for David and Becky when they return next year. The penguins have little hats on as well, so we could tie a piece of string between them and they could hold up a banner saying ‘Welcome Home.’
I’m looking at the photos now and I can’t help chuckling. I genuinely think it’s one of the most creative and entertaining things I’ve ever done. I’m not sure Philippa will see it that way, but sod it. I’m amused.

RC 23-10-12

In other recent news..

I got caught up at work with some drunk football fans on Saturday.
Apparently the fact that Norwich City had beaten Arsenal unexpectedly meant I should have allowed intoxicated teenagers to smoke pot in the dairy aisle.
I didn’t see it that way and got security to turf them out into the car park. 
Little pricks.
One of them threatened to wait for me outside and ‘sort me out’ when I finished my shift. 
I left at 10pm and he was nowhere to be seen.
Little prick.

Apparently I’m the only person who finds it amusing and ironic that the pub where Sophie and her girlfriend will be staying is called ‘The Cock Inn.’ I looked it up online today and it looks gorgeous. There are four rooms in a converted building next door to the pub, and they all have four-poster beds and en-suite bathrooms. They’re going to have better accommodation than Philippa and I had in Paris this year, but for half the price. 

Ted and Beryl are talking about moving house.  They don’t see the point of having the extra rooms now that all their children are adults, and Beryl doesn’t want to be struggling up and down stairs when her arthritic knees get worse. She has her eye on a nice bungalow by the coast, apparently.  Ted seems unimpressed by it all and I can see a situation where he just sits in his chair and refuses to budge while she’s tearing around packing boxes full of ornaments.  He really knows how to be an awkward sod when he wants to. Seriously - he could teach it at university.

Philippa has found some replacement pink plastic flamingoes and has ordered them to be delivered tomorrow. She’s been panicking for days in case David and Becky find out the old ones got broken and throw us out for causing damage. Why she thinks we might be held responsible for gale-force winds ripping through the garden is beyond me, but there we are - she is nothing if not lovably loony. 

I’m off to bed now. Goodnight.

RC 22-10-12

Why did I worry?

I sent Sophie an e-mail last night admitting my failure and confessing my shortcomings and generally opening my soul and berating myself, and she replied saying “Don’t sweat it - we found somewhere nice on the Internet”
So that’s that sorted then! 
Hannah phoned me tonight to say “Why didn’t you tell me, you bastard?” after she’d spoken to Sophie and heard they were coming. I was so wrapped up in finding them a place to stay that I hadn’t even thought about telling Hannah! Oh well, I can’t feel guilty about that. They’re sisters after all - if they can’t communicate with each other without using me as a messenger that’s their problem.

My next task is to wangle as much time off work as possible while they’re visiting. 
How many times can you get chicken pox???

RC 20-10-12

Why did I offer?

I’m still struggling to find a decent place for Sophie and Tamara to stay, and I’m starting to regret saying that I’d try. I just got excited about them coming and realised there was no room to offer them and leapt in without thinking and said ‘leave it to me!’ and now I’m proving that leaving it to me is actually a rather bad idea. 
I can feel my confidence ebbing away with each unsuccessful phone call or enquiry. Next time I get the urge to be helpful I’ll volunteer for something simpler like buying them milk or carrying their bags to the door; then I might be able to achieve it rather than let them down miserably. 

RC 19-10-12

Ignorant, prejudiced, backwater toss-heads

I found an absolutely gorgeous guesthouse half-a-mile from us that would be perfect for Sophie and Tamara. The rates are reasonable, the rooms are lovely, and they give you a choice of breakfasts. Unfortunately, the owner wouldn’t let me book because “we don’t do same-sex groupings”
What Century are we living in??? And which country????
The Bible was mentioned in passing so I walked away quickly before I was tempted to burn the house down. If someone is going to rely on an ancient work of fiction to tell them who can or cannot sleep in a bed together then I don’t want to give them my business.

RC 18-10-12

Good News travelling fast

Sophie and Tamara are coming to see us!!
They’ve already seen their schedules for Christmas and unfortunately they won’t have any spare time to travel back to Norfolk for a visit, so they’ve both booked Hallowe’en week off and they’re coming Monday to Friday!
I have rather foolishly said I will sort out accommodation for them. They can’t really doss down with Hannah at the old house because it’s full of Performing Arts students. I could ask David and Becky if they can stay with us here, but I seem to remember it’s in our contract that we won’t have people over so that’s probably a non-starter. I might put a sign up in the staff room at work for Bed and Breakfast recommendations.
I suppose if all else fails I could let them sleep in TheLoveMachine. It is a camper van after all, and I’m sure the smell of cat’s piss and damp wouldn’t ruin their holiday too much…….

RC 17-10-12

The Winter Wind Cometh..

Norfolk in three words - Cold, blustery, dangerous.
It’s been bloody awful weather today. I went outside early this morning to find our bins and various garden ornaments down at the far end of the lawn. I hope David and Becky aren’t too attached to their plastic pink flamingoes, because one of them is now headless and the other has a broken leg.  I’ll do my best with the superglue but I’m not a magician. I did consider calling the vet and asking if he treats plastic animals, but I thought it might be a waste of my time.

Philippa is in the best mood I’ve seen for ages. She won her badminton matches on Saturday, she had no after-effects from her ankle, and her Sports Club beat the team from Suffolk for only the third time ever, so she’s walking on air at the moment.  There are rumours of a big celebration party later this year at the Sports Club, but we’ll wait and see on that one. I don’t want to get my hopes up only to have them dashed by a ‘Members Only - No Partners Allowed’ announcement nearer the time. 

And now, if you’ll excuse me, I am off to enjoy the Jeremy Brett film version of “The Hound of The Baskervilles” which I recorded off the telly this morning….

RC 16-10-12

Brownie points for Rory!

I went along to watch Philippa’s badminton match. Not only did I go along, but I took Nathan and Hannah with me as well, and I shouted my support throughout! I also got into an argument with one of the opposition supporters that nearly resulted in a punch-up, but Philippa didn’t see that so I’m not going to mention it here. 
It was quite good fun really. Nathan is as perplexed by sport as I am so we had a good giggle about it and found other things to talk about to keep us occupied. We’re becoming quite a nice little unit, the four of us. We go along to watch Hannah sing, and we go along to watch Philippa play, and maybe if I ever get round to drumming seriously they can come and watch me perform as well. I’m not going to go and watch Nathan preach though, I’m drawing the line at that.

RC 13-10-12

Support? Or No Sport?

Philippa’s sports club have their annual challenge weekend against a rival club from Suffolk this weekend. Two days of pointless activities to try and prove one group of middle-aged tossers are better than another. Philippa is excited because her ankle is finally back to full strength and she wants to ‘get back to competitive action.’ She also wants me to go along and watch. Now I like to be supportive, but I’m really not interested. I don’t want to have over-fit men in their 50s looking down on me because my skills are intellectual rather than physical. Plus, watching Philippa jiggle about in a tight badminton dress for an hour is bad for my blood pressure and libido. I’m likely to drag her off the court and try to hump her in the volleyball cupboard. (pardon the expression - not sure I’ve used the term ‘hump’ in this blog before)
I now have to find the balance between putting myself through something I hate, but getting bonus points from Philippa, or having a nice weekend at home but being hated by my girlfriend.
It’s a tough decision, and one I feel I can only make after a large portion of chips and a shandy….

RC 12-10-12

My Eight Hundredth Blog

When my number of blog postings hits a milestone, I tend to get all reflective and melancholy. I’m determined not to do that today. I shall just thank you for your continued support, and I hope my musings on life have not offended or bored you to the point that you are no longer reading them. But if they have - how would I know? And if they have - how would you be reading this to answer the question? So what was the point of all that, really???
Anyway….

Eight hundred blogs done
I’m still writing crap haiku
And I’m getting old

RC 11-10-12

The Power of Four

I have decided, for a new challenge, that all my blog postings in October will have four words in the title.

I must apologise on behalf of the supermarket for anyone who used our “Order Online - Delivered to Your Door” service in the past 24 hours. Someone (who is leaving and was on their last shift) was feeling playful and removed a few items from people’s shopping lists, putting in some interesting substitutions. My favourite was the gentleman who ordered a honeydew melon and was sent instead some incontinence pants and a screwdriver.

Nathan and Hannah are taking Philippa and I out for a meal tonight. I have a feeling they may be about to tell us they’re engaged, but I may be wrong.  This time last year, when I was still living with Hannah and still uncertain about Nathan, I would have dreaded it and tried to get out of it; but I’m actually looking forward to it. They are good company, and they’re very nice together, and they’re paying, all of which helps (especially the paying part)

We’re doing some mad stock-take thing at work tomorrow, so my hours are 4pm until midnight. What the Hell kind of shift is that? I don’t know whether to rest all day tomorrow so I have lots of energy for work, or have a good day out and then just get through it as best I can. I don’t know whether to eat a big lunch and then take sandwiches for the evening, or use the canteen and eat a meal on my ‘lunch break’ which will be about 9pm.  I’m very confused. Maybe I’ll just call in sick…..

RC 10-10-12

Goodbye to all that...

My cold has finally, finally, finally buggered off.  I produced so much snot in those two weeks I almost wish I’d kept it all in a jar as a keepsake. 
By the way, what’s the difference between a keepsake, a memento and a souvenir?
That question will keep me awake for hours tonight.
Still I‘d rather have a question keep me awake than yet another coughing fit.
And now I’m back fighting fit - get ready for daily blog postings for a while!
(starting tomorrow…. I don’t want a relapse so I‘m off to bed early)

RC 9-10-12

A Day of Disagreements

I popped in to see Ted this morning. I tried to get him enthused about next month’s American Presidential election, after Mitt Romney and Barack Obama had a televised debate last night.
Ted said “I barely care about our own elections, why should I care who the Yanks are voting for?”
I said “Because the US dominates the World. The person in charge is in control of more than just their own country’s affairs. In many ways, the American election is more important to us than our own election.”
Ted sipped his tea and said “You really don’t know what the **** you’re on about, do you?” and that was the end of that.
Then I got into a flare-up at work. Some fat ugly ‘Watchdog’-watching benefit-loving bitch-queen from the Suburbs threatened to report me to Trading Standards and Interpol. My crime? I refused to help push her trolley full of gin and chocolate for her when it’s wheels got stuck on the corner of a shelf. I told her I was busy and maybe she should put less ready meals in it next time so it didn’t become unsteady and uncontrollable. She flew into a full-fat rage and said I should learn my place. The till supervisor came over to calm her down and took her off to ‘hear her concerns.‘ I really don’t care, by the look of her she’ll be dead before Christmas, and our complaints procedure takes longer than that to work through.
Then when I got home tonight I walked straight into a full-on Philippa pre-menstrual strop. She said “When you took it upon yourself to hoover this morning, did you not think it might be an idea to move things rather than just hoover around them?”
That’s the last time I help with housework.

RC 4-10-12