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Hallowe’en coming
Time to buy lots of hard sweets
To throw at children
October is here
The best thing about this month?
Must be pumpkin soup
Hallowe’en at work:
We’re yet again cashing in
On kids and parents
New work directive:
“All staff must wear fancy dress”
I’m going as me
If I was a witch
I’d turn MPs into rats
Then kick them to death
RC 25-10-13
Philippa is pressuring me to travel with her to Suffolk tomorrow. It’s her Annual Inter-Club Sports Club Bragging-Rights Bullshit Hoo-Hah Thingamijig and she wants me to go with her. She said having my support last year made a big difference to her and I’m a bit of a lucky charm. Trouble is, I hate the idea. I’ll get all turned on watching her bounce about on the badminton court, then she’ll ban me from having sex with her in case it affects her performance. I’ll be the least fit person there and I’ll spend three days feeling inadequate and fat and I’ll end up drinking and annoying people.
Thankfully I’m down to be working everyday, so I’ve got an excuse for not going. Although with Philippa away I’d like to take the opportunity to catch up on some serious film-watching, so I have a feeling I may be calling in sick.
Yes, I can feel one of my heads coming on already.
RC 24-10-13
Today has not been a good day.
The weather has turned wet and nasty, my squidgy nut-piece has returned after cycling and I have a girlfriend having panic attacks about imminently moving house. I was supposed to meet up with Ross and lose myself in drumming but he had to cancel with a headache.
No wonder I’ve never liked Wednesdays.
RC 23-10-13
Tomorrow night should be a good ‘un. Philippa is trying out a new Zumba class (I think she’s trying to get as fit as possible so her body is ready for pregnancy) so I’m having a studio session with Ross. I’ve got so used to having our regular sessions that if a week goes by without me drumming now I start to feel a bit itchy. We’ve talked about increasing it to twice a week, but the studio we use is quite pricey when there’s only two of you to share the cost, and of course my work hours make it difficult to commit to a regular time-slot. And of course Philippa will start chirping and wittering if I spend another evening a week with Ross instead of her. We wouldn’t have this problem if only she’d learn to play an instrument. Or if Ross had a nice pair of boobies…
RC 22-10-13
Sunday night and I’m sitting on my own with a bottle of wine watching American Football on the telly. Marvellous, in so many ways. Philippa has partaken of an early night having spent most of today suffering with a hangover and an unsympathetic fiance. I am taking the opportunity to indulge myself in the world of the NFL as I’m well aware that when we move out next month I will likely lose my access to Sky Sports for a while.
The week ahead looks good. I’ve been allowed a couple of days off in a row to help recharge my batteries before the madness of the Halloween/Fireworks Night week. With the weather set to stay ridiculously mild, I intend to take the Velociped out for a lengthy spin and to spend a lot of time listening to music. Now I am in rehearsals with another musician, I feel that research is essential, so if it’s a choice between hoovering the living room and watching YouTube clips of Crosby, Stills and Nash then I’m afraid the music stuff MUST win out. Philippa may not see it that way, but she’ll change her mind when we’re living in Florida with gold records adorning the bathroom walls.
RC 20-10-13
Saturday night and I’m sitting on my own with a bottle of wine and a computer. If I’m going to be married soon I guess I may as well get used to this kind of thing. At least I’m blogging now, rather than in two hours time when I’m a bit inebriated and feeling morose and melancholy.
Philippa is ‘out with the girls’ which I believe is modern code for ‘sitting in a wine bar talking about willies and make-up.’ I have to work an early shift tomorrow so I’m being ultra-professional and staying at home to have an early night. (which is code for ‘getting nicely drunk and sitting up til 3 watching movies‘)
I have a couple of old Billy Wilder films that I’ve never seen so I intend to indulge myself in their brilliance.
I was approached at work this week about changing jobs. You may remember I had expressed an interest a while ago in taking a position with the Home Delivery team of drivers? Well the Manager In Charge Of Said Department asked if I fancied switching now so I could be in place in time for the Christmas rush. I said I’d think about it, and then I did think about it, and then I looked into the hours involved, and it turns out they get so busy in the two weeks prior to Christmas that everyone is expected to work 12-hour days and your last delivery on Christmas Eve is at 11pm, after which time you have to take the truck back to the store and complete all your paperwork. I stopped thinking about it at that point. I know my current position means I’ll have a very work-based Yuletide, but I don’t see the point of jumping out of the frying pan only to land somewhere equally as high on the temperature scale. If you get my drift.. (as the customer said to the snowplough driver)
We haven’t discussed it yet, but obviously this will be the first Christmas in a long time that both my sisters are within visiting distance, and I’m hoping beyond hope that we’ll be able to have a good get-together sometime in December. I’m not sure how we’ll achieve that when you consider that most of us work weird shift patterns but there we are. I’m sure we’ll get there somehow.
And speaking of ‘getting there somehow’ there’s somewhere I’d like to get now, and that is drunk, and I know exactly how to get there, so I’m going to go there now.
Ta-ra!
RC 19-10-13
I really need to stop posting blogs after drinking. I end up rambling, and waffling and… {pauses to consult thesaurus]… being discursive, and I give you the wrong impression of me completely. Some of them are funny to read I imagine, just like some drunken conversations are fun to listen to, but you have no way of knowing whether what I’m typing is genuine Rory feeling, or intoxicated bumgumph.
From now on, any time I post a blog while drunk I will put a capital D on the first line of text as a warning.
Anyway - I don’t really want to go back and study. I don’t know where that came from last night. My thoughts were rather awash with cider so that may have had something to do with it, I suppose. What I really want to do is earn about the same amount that I’m earning now, but be in a job where I only have to work office hours. Then I would get to spend more time with Philippa, and my life would blossom accordingly.
But stick around because I’ll probably change my mind again tomorrow…
RC 13-10-13
Sod work - what I really want to do is go back to studies. When I considered teaching, Philippa said she would support me through my years training to qualify, so maybe she’ll say something similar if I decide to go back to uni.
The question is - what to study?
Do I go back to my science background, or get qualified in something I really love, like films? Or should I take a careful look at the job market and get trained up in a field that has guaranteed employment, like computers or plumbing?
This is beginning to feel like my urge to quit work. I knew I wanted to get out of the supermarket but didn’t have a clue what to do instead. Now I’ve decided I want to get back into improving myself, but I don’t have a clue what subject to look at.
I did notice that our local college is offering an evening class in dog grooming. Maybe I should give that a look?
RC 12-10-13
I should have kept my mouth shut about the lovely weather. Today we had gale force winds and heavy rain. Ah, well… At least I made the most of it while we had it….
I notice I am still posting a blog every day. I’m not prepared to say yet whether this will continue, but its nice to have it as part of my daily routine rather than an occasional task or sometimes, to be honest, a necessary chore. It does seem to be more enjoyable when I’m doing it every day (and yes - I am still talking about blogging)
Now I am going to sit down with a hot chocolate and a book and listen to the wind rattle the windows…
RC 11-10-13
I’ve given up on my carwash idea. I’m worried that there may be a mafia-style hierarchy that controls most of them in the area, and that after two days in business I’ll be visited by some big guys in overcoats who’ll threaten to burn everything, including me, if I don’t give them fifty per cent of the takings. I’ve decided that’s a risk I’m not willing to take. Plus, I’m incredibly lazy, so the idea of having to spend all day cleaning people’s cars is one that fills me with dread.
So it’s back to the old drawing board as far as career choices go. And to be frank, if you’re as bored reading about my work-life woes as I am then you’d rather I shut up now, so that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
In other news, today sees the end of my Alphabetical-Order Blog Title Challenge Thing. I did it!! Now I have to find something new to interest and amuse me. I notice that I have accidentally and enjoyably written a blog every day in October so far, so maybe it’s finally time to complete my often-threatened, always-abandoned idea of Writing A Blog Every Day In A Calendar Month. Or maybe not….
And to conclude - some haiku:
October weather
Feels more like June or July
I love climate change!
RC 10-10-13
God, the weather’s been glorious. I’ve been cycling today wearing shorts and a T-shirt. Unheard of in October but very, very welcome. Why am I writing in short, snappy sentences today? Instead of writing longer, flowing, intelligent prose? Maybe because we now live in a Twitter-inspired, status-update-obsessed world where everyone wants everything to be short, sharp, quick and catchy, and their attention span wavers if what they’re reading goes on for more than ten words, and I have to go along with that or risk losing readers. But then, I only have a handful of readers anyway so sod it - back to the longer sentences!
I must pat myself on the back and say I did a good job of sprucing my Velociped up this week. I took her out today and the gears were slick and silent, the brakes were responsive and rugged, and the frame was gleaming like a mirror made of diamonds. Maybe I could quit work and make money cleaning bikes? There are no end of those “Handwash” car-wash places by the side of the roads now, where Eastern Europeans are cashing In on the laziness of drivers by cleaning their cars while they’re at work. Maybe I could do the same service for cyclists? Or maybe I should open my own “Handwash” car-wash lay-by business? Some of them charge about twelve quid just to clean the outside of the car. The automated car wash at the supermarket is only three pounds fifty - I could just take everyone’s car through there and make nine pounds profit every time.
Hmmm, I might give that one some serious thought.
RC 9-10-13
I can assure you that I wouldn’t be mentioning Christmas if it didn’t fit in nicely with me being at ‘X’ in my Alphabetical Blog Title Challenge…
I hate The Season Of Goodwill being mentioned anytime before the end of November, but I can’t get away from it. We’ve got the bloody Christmas stock already filling 20% of the store space and we’re only a few weeks away from the sodding Yuletide Music being pumped through the shop. Here I am trying to enjoy this wonderful Indian Summer and I’m being brainwashed into believing it’s Xmas Eve already. I tried to convince the management that we shouldn’t go big on the festive stuff as it might be offensive to our non-Christian customers, but I was swimming against the tide of potential profit.
After a meeting today, I’ve been appointed the unwanted title of “Twat Who Has To Find Local Entertainers To Stand In The Entrance Singing Christmas Songs Without Wanting To Be Paid For It”
Graham has an uncontrollable urge to have bell-ringers, carollers and the like in-store every day in December, and somehow it’s up to me to book them all. As if my work life wasn’t suicide-inducing enough….
RC 8-10-13
Another beautiful late-Summer day today. How on Earth anyone can doubt the onset of climate change based on this year’s evidence is beyond me. Snow in May? Still wearing jumpers in June? Overnight October temperatures in double figures Celsius? Does this sound like traditional British weather to you?
Anyway, I shan’t waste my time pleading to the unbelievers. If the opinions of every reputable scientist alive and the mammoth amounts of documentary proof that builds up each year won’t convince you then what chance do I have?
The good weather has placed me in a very good mood. I decided to give my bike a service today (which means I oiled the chain and cleaned it a bit) and it was so nice outside I wore just a T-shirt and shorts and had to put on a baseball cap to keep the sun from blinding me. Glorious. For lunch I made myself a nice tuna salad and ate it sitting at the table in the garden. All very middle-class behaviour. Then I had to drive into work and get hissed at by customers that should be on The Jeremy Kyle Show. Sometimes my life is like a dichotomy from a fictional fable, and sometimes the different aspects of my life seem so different that I feel as if I am existing in at least three separate dimensions at once, and that I live three separate lives which just occasionally crash into each other and over-lap.
Where’s the wine????
RC 7-10-13
Another gem that I overheard in the shop aisles today:
PERSON A: “Every time I have sex with my girlfriend she cries as if I’ve just punched her”
PERSON B: “Shame”
PERSON A: “Yes it is”
PERSON B: “No, mate, I mean that’s the reason she’s crying - it’s the shame”
RC 6-10-13
I was in reflective mood today. Almost meditative. I sat in the garden under surprisingly warm conditions and allowed myself to relax and think back over the past few days. I analysed things that had happened, I considered my performance and attitude during those events, and I tried to see how my decisions would be affecting myself and others. And my conclusions were - “What the ****ing Hell was I thinking??”
How the **** have I got myself into these stressful situations? I’m a month away from moving house with no real understanding of where my landing point will be, I’m being pestered about marriage by a fiancee who is desperate to get pregnant, and now I’m committed to a sponsored run and a gig at an wedding that I could ruin? Am I TRYING to drive myself crazy?
The only way to calm myself was to indulge in some distracting haiku, and some wine:
I am a drummer
But I don’t know how to drum
..Never stopped Ringo…
RC 5-10-13
Ross and I met up this morning, and he asked if I’d be interested in ‘playing a few numbers’ at his cousin’s wedding in March! Apparently she’s marrying the guitarist from a local covers band, and they’ll be playing at the reception, and all their equipment will be set up all day. Ross jokingly asked the Groom-To-Be if he and I could be the warm-up act and he surprised him by saying “Sure, mate - go for it!”
They have even said we can use their drumkit and amps so we don’t have to provide our own equipment! I was a bit excited at first but now I’m thinking “You stupid TWAT, Ross!! What have you let us in for?? Brides want their weddings to be perfect so we’ll have to get things absolutely right… We don’t even have a SINGER for chuff’s sake.. Why did you even suggest it?? Why didn’t you just buy her something from the wedding list like everybody else?”
Anyway, we’ve got six months to rehearse so I’m sure we’ll be fine…..
RC 4-10-13
According to an Amateur Runners website I found, the first run you do when you start training is always the hardest… I bloody well hope so, because if I feel like this every time I run I’ll be killing myself by Hallowe’en. I think I got 50 yards before my ankles hurt and my thighs were burning. “Ninety per cent of the pain is in your head” I was told. Well my head felt ok but the other ninety per cent of my body was in agony.
Next time I suppose I should be sensible and warm up, and stretch, and take it easy, and warm down, and stretch again. Or stay in bed…
Philippa is very supportive, as always. She wants to know when the Hell I’m going to fit in running around the packing, and cleaning, and dusting, and cleaning, and hoovering, and cleaning that we have to do before we move out next month. I said “Why are you complaining? You’ve been on at me for ages about exercising more..”
She said “I wanted you to play BADMINTON with me, not ruin your knees running in shit trainers”
She doesn’t swear very often, so I knew she felt quite strongly and I didn’t want an argument, so I shut up at that point and made her a cup of tea.
Actually, thinking about it, she only ’doesn’t swear’ in her general life; when she’s talking to me she swears like a trooper.
RC 3-10-13
I may have accidentally agreed to do a sponsored run for charity.
Last Friday, as I’m sure you know, was ‘The World’s Biggest Coffee Morning’
We didn’t do anything at work because we often have collections for local charities anyway, and because we have our own charitable organisations that we raise money for, so we can’t join in with every special event that comes along or we’d be pestering our customers for donations every day.
Now - the explanation I’ve just written seems quite good to me, and if I’d explained it that way to Mrs Barraclough on Friday, everything would have been fine. But unfortunately I was in one of my feisty ‘can’t be bothered; please keep customers away from me’ moods on Friday, so when she approached me and asked why we hadn’t done anything, I said something like “If MacMillan wants to have nurses named after him, maybe he should pay for them himself.”
Obviously if I’d known that Mrs Barraclough lost her sister to cancer last month I would have reined in my flippancy somewhat, but as so often happens with me, the gob was open and spouting nonsense long before the brain assessed the situation. So Mrs Barraclough, understandably in my opinion, complained about me.
In a long conversation with Ginger Graham and Carl (our ‘Customer Services’ manager and self-proclaimed Saviour Of The Universe) it was suggested that I should make ‘a personal gesture to ensure reparations of the customer/company relationship status.’
Carl thought I should donate a percentage of my months wages to a hospice of Mrs Barraclough’s choice. Graham thought I should arrange a belated coffee morning and invite her as guest of honour. Determined to avoid both those possibilities, I heard myself stupidly saying “No. I should have to do something myself to raise money. It’ll be good publicity for the supermarket if one of their managers is eating Humble Pie and doing something for the community. I can get sponsored, and the company can match all donations, and we can have a lovely photo opportunity where you hand over a cheque to MacMillan with Mrs Barraclough standing beside you. And it should be something I really hate as well, to prove that I am genuinely sorry for my comments.”
So I suggested a sponsored run….
They both became orgasmic at the idea, and ran off to prepare press releases and to convince themselves it was their idea entirely, while conveniently forgetting that I was going to get sacked if there was ever one more complaint about me.
I am The Golden Boy again, and have avoided a potentially damaging disciplinary procedure.
Now I just have to learn how to run.
RC 2-10-13
Welcome to October.
The weather is still late-Summerish, but that’s the least we deserve after Winter lasted until June. I’m hoping we can make it to November before we turn the heating on.
I had a rather pleasant surprise today. As you know, I keep well away from the financial side of life, which I can do because I have a fiancee who obsesses about it. Today we sat down with some statements and some figures and she told me how much money we’ve managed to save since we’ve been living together. We’re doing rather well, thank you very much! People who have mortgages or pay rent are suckers. (no offence.) Philippa being Philippa, she is working out how big a house we can buy if we use the savings as a deposit, and me being me I’m thinking ‘Where can we go on holiday?’ and ‘How long could I be off work before we’d spent all the money?’
RC 1-10-13
