One Little Boy

The explanation about the spelling of Mathew’s name is really very simple. It’s not historic, or familial, it was actually down to a good old-fashioned clerical human error. About an hour after he was born, we were all cuddling together in a hospital bed and a very tired Philippa looked down at him and said, “He kind of looks like a Matthew.” It wasn’t a name either of us had considered at any point during the pregnancy, but as soon as she said it, it just seemed right. He DID kind of look like a Matthew. One of the nurses on duty was a lovely Spanish lady whose English was not particularly impressive. She was the one who wrote his name on a hospital tag and she misunderstood it when we spelt it for her. When we looked at it written down – again – it just looked right, and we decided to go with it.

RC 31-12-18

Four Little Ducks

According to the stats section of my homepage on blogger, this is the 2222^nd blog I have posted.

I would love to do a well-researched, fact-packed collection of paragraphs all about the number 2222 and its relevance to humankind and human history, but I’m very tired and very busy, due to the fact that we have a 10-day old baby in the house!

So instead, I have decided to mark the occasion with a list of predictions about what I think the world will be like in the year 2222AD:

The Sun (in space) will be sponsored by The Sun (the newspaper) and will effectively be a big advertising logo hanging in the sky all day.

My descendants will include a Nobel prize-winning physicist, a celebrated author of romantic fiction, and a criminal/hero responsible for the assassination of an unpopular political leader.

Ed Sheeran will still be dominating the singles charts.

Our bodies will have rapidly evolved to the point where we are born with a smartphone embedded in the palm of our hand.

Nipples will be the official currency of Europe.

A lunar colony will have been established on the Moon. It will be located at a site called ‘The Boris Johnson Memorial Crater’ which was created by that bumbling British f**kwit crash-landing there after being launched into space by NASA following an ill-advised comment at Donald Trump’s birthday party.

Scrabble will be known as ‘Tiley-Word-Pain.’

Human involvement in sport will have been reduced to voting from home via a keypad while watching genetically-enhanced robots fight each other with celery sticks.

The Queen will still be our monarch.

RC 30-12-18

Boxing Day's Boxing Day

So here we are on December 27^th.

Our first Christmas as parents went by in a tired blur of confusion and crying. I’m sure these things will get better as The Little Fella gets older, but this one has been a bit of an inconvenience, in a way. Trying to juggle the exhaustion of labour, getting used to a baby and the biggest annual occasion in the Western world all at the same time is a bit of a trial.

Still – our fault for contriving to conceive nine months ago, right?

I’m still finding it hard to believe it has happened. After months of preparing for it, and after years of thinking about it, to be sitting here now with a Junior in the building is earth-shifting, overwhelming and a bit dreamlike. Ted and Beryl popped over today, bringing with them half of the products available from Hamleys’ website. Everyone ended up in tears, especially Philippa when Beryl told her we can call on them anytime we need help as we’re an important part of their family. Not sure what they can do while Beryl is still getting used to a new knee and Ted is getting weaker and frailer by the week, but the sentiment is welcome and the love is real, and appreciated. They’re not the only visitors we’ve had, either. Sophie finished a 12-hour Christmas Day shift and then drove straight down to see us and meet The Little One. Hannah and Nathan have been popping backwards and forwards as often as they can, bringing a supply of satsumas and nappies and having a pot of tea on the go constantly while they’re here. It’s weird, because part of me wishes everyone would just leave us alone to get on with stuff, but the rest of me is so grateful to have them here.

It’s amazing what a baby does to people.

Our ‘neighbours’ (I put it in inverted commas as our houses aren’t connected) – who we haven’t had a huge amount of contact with, although we all get on very well – have called in several times to wish us well and bring us soup and stews and generally be lovely and wonderful. My superiors have sent a huge bouquet of flowers for Philippa and a large teddy for Mathew and told me to ‘take as long as I need’ before returning to my duties, which is amazing because I assumed they’d all be spending Christmas time away from work, drowning in sherry while those on the Ground Floor and at the Coal Face drowned in overenthusiastic Boxing Day shoppers.

It’s all been wonderful, it really has.

But also tiring.

I hope this blog has made sense in the reading. I could happily take the rest of the year off, but I’m still determined to reach 250 postings in 2018!

More to follow soon…..

RC (daddy!) 27-12-18

Quickie before Xmas Eve

XMAS SONGS I STILL LOVE:

The Christmas Song (Nat King Cole)

Anything by Elvis Presley

Christmas Lights by Coldplay

XMAS SONGS I COULD HAPPILY NEVER HEAR AGAIN:

Fairytale of New York (The Pogues)

Anything by Michael Buble

Christmas Wrapping by The Waitresses

RC 23-12-18

Life / changing

Philippa and I are now parents.

After a relatively gentle 27 hours of labour, a young boy weighing 7 lbs 11 ozs arrived into the world at exactly midday on Thursday 20^th December.

Wow!

I will probably go into the event in more details at a later time, but right now we’re all a bit spaced out, overwhelmed with emotions, and just trying to deal with things minute by minute until we all get the hang of what the hell we’re doing! So I’m giving all my attention to my wife and son, rather than you guys in the blogsphere.

But let me just tell you everyone is perfectly well and all is as it should be. And let me just say it’s been the most amazing, emotional few days of my life.

And let me also just tell you the name we have settled on:

MATHEW RYAN CHESWORTH

And no – it’s not a typing error. We’re spelling it with one ‘T’

xxx

IT'S HAPPENING !!!

I’ll try and type this as calmly as possible:

Philippa has just called me at work to tell me she thinks her waters have broken.

I am now about to set off to collect her and take her to the hospital.

I have no idea when I’ll be able to blog again, but please keep us in your thoughts and prayers!

xxx

Winter colds and cars

I had a weekend to forget, all things considered.

Woke up Saturday morning with one of those colds that makes you feel like your sinuses are packed with cement and your head is trying to turn itself inside out. Philippa panicked at the prospect of having to go through labour while infected with flu and decided I should get as far away from her as possible, so sent me out into the freezing weather with a shopping list and instructions to ‘come home when you’re healthier.’  

I traipsed around the wet towns, with sleet being driven against me like a ruler being driven against a misbehaving Victorian schoolboy’s knuckles, and ended up soaked, shivering and miserable. Then I got back to our car, which took the annoying decision to refuse to start, presumably as a protest at being left outside in the Wintry storm in the first place.

None of the local places were still open so I couldn’t call out a mechanic. We’re members of RAC but they quoted me an ‘Estimated Recovery Time’ of 4-5 hours, and I was already feeling hypothermic and the weather was getting worse, so I didn’t fancy sitting in sub-zero temperatures while they sorted out loads of other people ahead of me. So in the end I got a taxi home and left the pissing car where it was.

Philippa was delighted, for many different reasons. I would have thought she would have been pleased to see me home safe, but no. I’d spent unnecessarily on transport, I’d endangered my own wellbeing and now I had abandoned the car that will be needed to take her to the hospital when Junior kicks his way through her waters. The fact that we have another car sitting outside the house that is operating perfectly seemed to escape her notice.

Anyway, I got a lift back to the motor yesterday morning and the pissing thing started first time. I’d still like to know what the problem was though, so I’ve dropped it off at a garage this morning to be ‘thoroughly investigated.’ Probably means I’ll be charged three months wages just because they hooked it up to a computer for 30 seconds, but there we are. Better safe than sorry.

RC 17-12-18

Wasting time at work...

Stream of Conscience A-Z of Christmas:

A is for Advent Calendars – an excuse to eat chocolate for breakfast.

B is for Baileys – for some reason I only drink it in December.

C is for Cheese – coz at Christmas my intake of it explodes.

D is for Decorations.

E is for Eggnog – even though I have no idea what it is.

F is for Frankincense – as above

G is for Gravy – makes everything taste better, especially turkey.

H is for Holly.

I is for Irish Coffee – for some reason I only drink it in December.

J is for Jameson’s – my whiskey of choice to go into the drink above.

K is for Kissing – any excuse, right?

L is for Licquers – never been sure how to spell it….

M is for Mince Pies – no explanation needed.

N is for New Year – the made-up holiday that follows the best one.

O is for Overindulgence.

P is for Parsnips – deeply roasted, heavily buttered parsnips…

Q is for Quizzes – gotta have one after Xmas lunch.

R is for Repeats – which make up 85% of Christmas TV schedules.

S is for Stollen – don’t even like it, but it’s traditional fayre.

T is for Turkey – obviously.

U is for Us – a sneaky way of mentioning family.

V is for Virgin Mary – the lady, or the drink. Either, or neither.

W is for Wrapping – my least favourite aspect of Christmas.

X is for Xmas – same holiday; less Christ.

Y is for Young – the way we should all feel.

Z is for Zuzu – the little girl from “It’s A Wonderful Life”

RC 14-12-18

Mixture !

My trend this month seems to be using one-word blog titles, then leaving a space after that word, then putting an exclamation mark. It wasn’t a conscious decision to do it, but I noticed it’s happened a few times so far in December and I think it may become a habit.

Less than 10 days until the Solstice, which cheers me up a bit. I know we won’t notice any difference for a while, but just knowing that the days are getting longer is a psychological lift at a time when the Lights-On-At-4pm routine is really starting to bite me.

Philippa is now a Lady Of Leisure. Officially off on maternity leave until whatever date she decides she’s ready to return to work. Another red letter day reached as we tick off the various landmarks that will result in us being parents.

My advent calendar has disappointed me somewhat this year. Normally I put a lot of thought into it and get something that I know will delight me, but I was so distracted by Pregnancy Stuff and My Complete Lack Of Festive Feeling In Late Nov that I forgot to plan ahead, and ended up just grabbing a Cadbury’s Heroes one off the shelf at work. I like the choccies, but there’s no picture behind the door, so it just doesn’t feel right.

We have a very simple Christmas tree this year, decorated with a combination of purple and white lighting, which I have to say looks amazing. I didn’t go mad with adornments because I might not fancy packing it all away neatly in January, what with us having a little Sproglet in the house by then. Forward thinking or humbuggery? I’ll let you decide for yourselves….

RC 12-12-18

Excited !

It’s amazing how much of a turnaround I have had in my mental state. Having been terrified of The Impending Birth for so long, I now honestly cannot wait for the inevitable to happen and for me to finally get a chance to meet Junior. I really am quite envious of Philippa over the whole pregnancy thing. My only connection with our offspring so far has been feeling him/her kick and wriggle through layers of my wife’s fat and skin, whereas Philippa has had months of getting to monitor the changes and enjoy the growth and feel an important part of the process. Admittedly, she’s also had to endure discomfort, pain, vomiting, cramp and hormones, but there you go – you take the rough with the smooth, right?

I’m being a pain in the arse, really. Every time she farts or whistles, I’m saying “Is this it?”

I think she’d like to move into the garage and avoid me but sadly her excessive body size wouldn’t fit in there with the car and the drumkit.

RC 10-12-18

Fortune Cookie Wisdom?

Philippa called me in a blind panic today thinking she was about to go into labour. Turned out to be a touch of wind brought about by eating three donuts that a work colleague had left unattended in the break room. That’ll teach her. We do seem to have had a strange turnaround/role-reversal. She is now getting worried about what lies ahead, while I have broken through the months-long horrible anxiety that was crippling me and reached a plateau of calm acceptance. What will be will be and I can only do my best when it happens. I need to stop obsessing about every possible negative outcome and get ready to face what arrives by educating myself as much as possible and knowing where to turn for help if we need it.

Having said that – it is quite alarming that something could happen literally any day now!

But then again – we’ve wanted this for so long that it seems wrong to be worried about it or dreading it. There may have been times of uncertainty from me when Philippa first wanted to get pregnant, and I may have exaggerated my own reluctance now and then for online comedic reactions, but the truth is that nothing has ever given me a greater sense of pride or love than the thought of sharing a baby with Philippa. I’m scared shitless, but I can’t wait to get started, and I just KNOW that my wife is going to be the Best Mum Ever, so I can’t mess things up too badly as she’ll always be there to support me and protect Junior from my ineptitudes and failings.

Now how does the name JASPER CONRAD CHESWORTH sound?

RC 7-12-18

festive feelings

I am, despite everything, excited about Christmas. Yes, I know we’ll be ridiculously busy at work in the weeks building up to it, and I know I’ll be under constant pressure from Those Above to maximise selling opportunities and pick the pockets of the locals, and I know the imminent of arrival of The Little One means we can’t really plan anything in particular, but at the end of the day (or maybe I should say ‘at the end of the year’) IT’S CHRISTMAS!! And, as I believe I may have concluded sometime previously, Christmas is what YOU make it. It’s also what you WANT it to be, so if you want it to be a quiet, inexpensive family affair with a simple meal and a couple of sherries, then make it thus. Don’t get swept up in the hype of advertising and don’t let anyone or anything else dictate the way you spend it. Especially don’t be influenced by your own internal expectations of what you THINK you SHOULD be doing. To my knowledge, there’s no Yuletide Police patrolling around in sledges arresting people for not putting up any decorations or incarcerating those who neglect to cook sprouts. There’s no statute written in law that forces you to smile at cracker jokes on pain of prosecution. There’s no punishment-in-the-streets for those who fail to eat mince pies, where you are forced to carry a Christmas tree naked through town while neighbours throw roast chestnuts at your danglies.

You can do what you want, how you want it, and everyone else can just lump it.

This is a long-winded way of me telling people that I’m not sending out any Christmas Cards.

RC 6-12-18

Old poem; new version

Christmas is coming

The Goose is getting fat

When we cook and eat it

That will be the end of that

RC 5-12-18

Mind as messy as ever

Today is the birthday of a girl I used to fancy at High School. Why can I remember that, and yet I came home today without the milk I’d promised to get? For the second day running? It’s weird what my synapses will latch importance onto and keep locked in my brain unnecessarily.

Ah, sweet Samantha. Her family were Buddhists from Northern Ireland and she was plump in an acceptable cute way rather than the borderline-obese way we see among those in their early teens nowadays. She was planning to be either a teacher or a journalist but I heard tell she got busted for drugs while at college and ended up quitting education. Pregnant at twenty, she settled for a life of benefits and part-time shelf-filling, lowering her expectations of life as quickly as her sense of self-worth.

God I can be a judgemental, downward-looking bastard at times.

RC 4-12-18

LIMBO !

By fair means or foul, whether we wanted to or not, we are back in the Central Month of Party Season! So dust off your glad rags, iron your dancing shoes and get ready to groove and boogie til your stockings are filled by Santa.

Yes – my Christmas spirit has kick-started itself. Walking around yesterday with the knowledge its Advent made my innards get a little twinge of excitement, which I must confess built nicely all day. I knew it would turn up eventually, I just wasn’t confident it would be this side of Boxing Day.

So – on the one hand, I am very excited!

On the other hand, I am absolutely terrified, and I feel this is something I must own up to, as it’s happening despite my best efforts, and it’s probably affecting what I write about and how I write it.

I’m scared.

Sometime in December I will become a father for the first time and I feel woefully underprepared and shamefully inadequately skilled. I am full of anxiety, not sleeping, and not able to be a support to my wife at the very point she needs it most – when she is on the cusp of giving birth. I never understood the term ‘frozen by fear’ as I’ve always coped quite well with stressful situations and been able to think my way out of them clearly, but at times now I am literally going rigid with terror; immobilised by the sudden scary thoughts being generated by the darkest side of my mind.

I am scared that Junior will be damaged in childbirth, that Philippa will die while releasing him, that I’ll drop him on his head the first time I hold him, that one of the nurses will swap him for a lab rat, that I’ll throw up on the bed, or pass out, or have a breakdown, or run out screaming, that I won’t work out how to fit his car seat properly, that I’ll crash on the way home from the hospital, that our house isn’t fit for a baby, that I’ll drop him the first time I feed him, that he’ll grow up to hate me, that I’m too old now to be a first-time father, that Philippa won’t need me anymore when she’s got a child to look after, that I won’t get any sleep when he’s struggling to get through the night and end up too knackered to work and then I’ll get fired and then Philippa will kick me out coz I can’t afford to support them, that a meteor might crash in our garden and irradiate him before he hits puberty, that his teeth might grow crooked and he’ll have to wear painful braces, that his first girl-or-boyfriend will break his heart so badly that he never trusts someone else enough to love them, that I’ll die of a brain tumour before I even get to know him, that if it’s a girl she’ll love her mum more than me, or wrap me round her finger and grow up spoilt and unbearable, or be the girl that all the other girls pick on, or be allergic to make-up and end up burning her mouth the first time she uses lipstick, or go out wearing a tiny outfit and end up hypothermic, or have a horrible older boyfriend that I end up punching and then get sent to prison.

I admit a couple of those may be a little unlikely, but I’m finding it hard not to worry about them anyway.

RC 2-12-18

An Unusual State of Affairs

This feels weird to me. It’s the night before Advent starts and normally I’d be ringing with excitement and singing with enthusiasm, but I just feel flat. It’s surreal. I’m not depressed or anything, I think I’m just finding it terribly hard to believe that tomorrow we’ll actually be in December. It’s only a couple of weeks ago that it barely felt like Autumn. Leaves were still clinging to trees, gardeners were still wearing their short sleeves and the looming arrival of Christmas felt like a fantasy. Now we’re suddenly about to dive headfirst into the final month of the year and part of me is not really sure it’s happening.

Have you ever had a dream in the middle of Summer where in the dream it’s Christmas Eve and you’ve realised that you’ve forgotten to buy presents then you wake up in 25 degrees Celsius and think ‘that was odd’?

That’s what this feels like to me. Like I’m about to wake up in June.

I suppose it’s a bit of a weird one because so much has changed. Decembers have had a bit of a pattern for the past few years but this is The First Of A New Paradigm. Different jobs for both of us. The small matter of an impeding birth looming over the whole planning process!

Maybe that’s it – I can’t really lock into the idea of Christmas when a far more important event is likely to rear its head first!

Whatever it is, I’m trying really hard not to be one of those people who pisses on everyone else’s enthusiasm by saying “I’m just not feeling it this year.”

Because they’re tossers.

RC 30-11-18

To drum or to telescope, that is the question

I have an abundance of hobbies calling for my attention, and precious little time in which to pleasure them all. I think tonight may be a sitting-in-the-garage-with-drumsticks-in-hand kind of evening. At work today I ended up accidentally watching a YouTube video about great solo performances by well-known drummers, so I’m feeling a little inspired. I am also hoping to avoid another full evening of ‘what else can we decorate before the baby arrives?’ with Philippa.

I have managed to avoid any early-onset Christmas trimmings at work, but there is an insistence from Those Above that we have a whole stack of advent calendars on the counter for the little ones to pester their parents for when they come in to pay for their petrol. Why we can’t just send them over the road to the superstore is beyond me, but there you go. It’s company policy, after all, to notice every possible merchandising opportunity and ram it as far down the customers throats as can be achieved without losing your fingers or choking them. Who am I to rise above and go against?

I’m quite excited by it all this year, to be honest. Having the chance to drive around between the locations and see the different approaches to December is nicer than being stuck in my office or out on one forecourt.

Little changes please little minds, you see.

And if anyone from Head Office is reading this – I was watching the video in my lunch break.

RC 29-11-18

Starry-eyed dreamer

This evening, I have set up my new telescope!

It arrived yesterday but was in a few bits and looked incredibly complicated to get working, and I was too busy massaging my pregnant wife’s tired feet to get into it. Tonight, however, I have been able to commit some time and take a few giant steps towards stargazing. It’s very exciting. Even Philippa’s rolling-of-the-eyes-into-the-top-of-the-head at what she perceives to be just another faddy short-lived hobby couldn’t dampen my enthusiasm on this one. I have managed to put the various components in the places where they need to be and I am now reading the hastily-downloaded-and-printed online manual, which is teaching me all about Equatorial Mounting and Right Ascension axis tilting. I am giddy with excitement at the thought of being able to work out the exact latitude of my viewing location and then adjusting my Declination Indicator Barrel accordingly.

But it’s really cold outside tonight, so I might do that tomorrow.

RC 28-11-18

Challenging Challenges

Supposed to be planning ahead with staffing schedules. Finding that boring, so planning ahead with blog-based challenges instead:

2018: Post 250 separate blog writings by end of year.

2019: For the first time, write at least 20 blogposts each month

2020: Finally achieve the long-dreamed-of ‘blog every day in a month’ goal.

RC 27-11-18

on my mind

Following on from my impromptu and unexpected meeting with Area Management the other week, I have now been asked to give a presentation at Head Office. They want to show me off as a shining example of how the new layout they’re doing in East Anglia is working well. Part of me (my ego) loves it, but the other part of me thinks ‘Several people lost their jobs in this change around. If I prove it works, doesn’t that mean MORE people will lose their jobs as well when this scheme is rolled out? Wouldn’t I be responsible for loads of redundancies???”

So, yeah – that’s given me something to ponder on the nights when I ain’t sleeping so well.

The good news is that it’s not until the New Year. Those Above are too busy micromanaging December sales opportunities and looking for ways to wring an extra penny or two out of our already impoverished customers to squeeze it in before Christmas. There is also then the possibility that, like so many of their previous ideas and intentions, the whole thing will get lost in its own bureaucracy and they’ll never find an aligned gap in the schedules of everyone they’d want to be there. So I’m trying to ignore it until early January, when all I’ll have to think about will be the upcoming onslaught of Easter Egg promotions and the small matter of a newborn baby at home.

RC 26-11-18

Weirdness multiplies as weeks progress

It’s funny how lack-of-sleep works. You go a few nights in a row with not-enough, so you’re a bit spaced out, but then when you get a good, proper session with the pillow you wake up feeling absolutely brilliant, but then the day afterwards you feel like shit. It’s as if the insomnia takes a few days to catch up with you. Maybe we have a ‘Snooze Bank’ inside, where we can store a few hours that we’ve had when we didn’t need them, so that when you have sleepless nights, you’re drawing on the sleep energy from the Snooze Bank to keep you going, but if it carries on for a few nights you get overdrawn and it takes a few nights of full sleeping before it’s all replenished again.

Not a theory that’s going to win me any Nobel prizes, I’m sure, but it’s a roundabout way of telling you I’ve been exhausted today. Bad timing, too, as I came home to find Philippa on one of her mad nesting sprees and wanting to re-arrange the living room for the third time this month. The two-seat sofa, it turns out, should be under the window, which is odd because ten days ago it was perfectly placed where it was, close to the kitchen door. I have learned, through this happy journey of pregnancy, to just go with it all and let her do what she needs to do, rather than try and point out that her change of mind is simply hormonal. The last thing a heavily-pregnant woman needs, especially in her first pregnancy, is the guy who impregnated her getting hacked off by her mood swings and letting her know that she’s being a bit wishy-washy, flippy-floppy, or grumpy. Learned that one the hard way, and I’ve shared it with you now so that hopefully you never have to go through it yourself.

RC 21-11-18

Blowing my own trumpet

I’m feeling less tired, less stressed and more relaxed than yesterday, thank God, so I’m going to take this opportunity to give myself a lift by mentioning a few positives.

Friday’s blog was number 2200! If I stopped writing today, it would still be nearly 200 years before the calendar year overtakes the number of blogs I’ve posted. That’s a pretty meaningless statistic, admittedly, but this is about me feeling better about myself, so go with it.

On a similar theme – one more blog after this one and I will break my record for the most blogs posted in one calendar year, and I STILL have the whole of December to go! It may yet be that my little target of banging out 250 in a year is reached by the end of ’18.

I hope so. I doubt I’ll ever get anywhere near this amount again, so I might as well push on through for another 6 weeks and try to achieve something that might have been considered impossible in my darker days. That would certainly be better than resting on my laurels and convincing myself that I can take my foot off the gas from here on in, having swamped the internet with my shit enough already this year.

Next year (stop me if I’ve mentioned this before at any point) we’ll have a baby in the house, so I don’t know how regularly I’ll be able to commit to blogging. Unless I become one of those dads that updates the Web every time their kid has a shit or gargles something that sounds like a word.

Which I assure you I will not.

RC 20-11-18

My God it's been dark today

Insomnia hit me like a Cuban boxer this weekend.

I think I’ve had a grand total of 5 hours sleep in the past three nights. Not sure why it happened. I never am sure, am I? It just lets me go along unbothered and then decides to land on me and give me a nasty surprise every now and then.

I didn’t feel particularly worried about anything before the weekend started, but obviously by 1.30am this morning I’d found a multitude of things to fret on while laying there wide awake – impending parenthood, work worries, possible Christmas-related traumas. None of that is any more of a threat than it was a few days ago, they’ve just built up in my sleep-lacked brain and become a troubling issue.

I know what I need to do – meditate a bit so the thoughts just waft away from me, then replace them with something fun and distracting like drumming or gaming, then get to bed at a sensible time and catch up on some shuteye. That’s my plan for the evening, but we’ll have to wait and see how it goes.

RC 19-11-18

Head in the Heavens

I’ve just ordered myself a new telescope. Yes, I know I’m doing what I often do – have a little idea and then get obsessed about it and then spend money on it even though I know it will probably only be a passing fad – but I’ve done it. Less than a hundred quid so it’s not as if I’ve broken the bank or bankrupted Junior’s college fund. I’ve just treated myself to something that will, hopefully, give me peace and pleasure over the Winter months while I wait for it to be light enough to cycle again.

RC 16-11-18

3 LITTLE SNIPPETS:

Halfway through November. Can you believe that? Hope this time-flying-by continues so it’s March before I know it…

We went for a meal at a restaurant this week where the food was lovely, but the tables were too close together. I understand the need to maximise use of space and thereby maximise profits, but it’s taking it a bit far when you’re chewing someone else’s elbow while trying to eat your meal.

We’ve had some absolutely gorgeous skies over the past few evenings. Bright oranges and reds. Lots of wispy clouds accentuating the sunset hues. Then some bright, sparkling, clear starlit nights. It’s making me wish I was a better photographer and it’s giving me the urge to buy a telescope and get back into stargazing. I had a simple one several years ago that had been a present when I was a child. I hung onto it into adulthood, but I think it got lost (or damaged beyond repair, can’t remember exactly) in one of the many moves that I had before I met Philippa (or one of the many moves we’ve had together) So it may be time to get myself a new one…

RC 15-11-18

Feet on the ground

I had an unexpected visit from area management today. They do this from time to time – descend upon you unannounced just to have a catch-up and a chinwag. It’s never about a bad thing or a bollocking – believe me, if they’re coming down to lay into you about something, they damn well let you know about it in advance so you can stew and fret and consider suicide – but that doesn’t stop you expecting it to be so. I was in the middle of typing up a proposal for staffing next Easter (yes, I know, but if I don’t get ahead of these things they’ll catch up with me and leave me under-manned) when I got a warning phone call from Teresa in the supermarket office. “Tom and Sofia are here and they’re on their way over to see you.”

Even though I knew it wouldn’t be anything unpleasant, my instincts kicked me instantly into PANIC MODE. My blood pressure shot through the roof and my heart rate doubled and I started to sweat and my hands shook so much I couldn’t press Ctrl+S to save my document. In the ninety seconds it took them to reach me I had run through 7000 possible conversations in my head and then started writing my resignation. It took every ounce of sense I had in me to be able to tell myself “You haven’t done anything wrong. They do this. It’s what they do. They just happened to be passing and decided to drop in. They just happened to be passing….”

Frighteningly though, they had done this deliberately to have a chance to speak to me directly. They’ve been watching me very closely, it turns out, and are pretty damn happy. “The change-around has worked much better than we expected” is the first phrase that I remember. After that it all blurs a bit into a mixture of relief, embarrassment, and ego. I’ve never been one who handles praise particularly well and, to be honest, with this company it’s bloody unusual to get it, so I need to keep myself in check now and not consider myself a genius! They were SO complimentary. They even admitted that they had had doubts about me taking over the position at all (not that I want to go over all that again – you can read my blog postings from earlier this year if you’d like to hear that story) but now they can’t believe they hadn’t noticed my abilities sooner.

Anyway, I mustn’t go on or my head will expand yet further. It’s just nice to know I’m doing okay, bearing in mind how often I can kick myself down the stairs about the things I think I’m doing wrong. This should help me give myself a bit of a break for a while.

Plus – more importantly – them being here today probably means I won’t have to see them again for another three months or so, and that would be bloody brilliant.

RC 14-11-18

Imminent MMCC

Remember when I seriously considered the idea of killing this blog off after 1000 posts? Well I’m just a few days, and a few more words, from hitting 2200 postings.

Madness.

What’s madder – me still churning this stuff out, or you still taking time from your day to read it? I know my own conclusion, but I wouldn’t want to insult you.

So I shall segue into a poem that I have belatedly written for November 5^th, called

“My Love of Fawkes Night (an ode)”:

Fireworks flash across the sky

Hearts are lifted; spirits soar with the rockets

Sparklers brighten faces

A fire roars its happy song

All ages rejoice

Primal needs satisfied

Subconscious and misunderstood

But powerful

RC 13-11-18

Humble?

Someone had a go at me today over the fact that we didn’t have poppies for sale in the garage last week. I pointed out that we had representatives of the British Legion on hand in the main supermarket foyer most days in November and she said ‘yeah, but what about the people just calling in for fuel and not going to the store itself?’ I patiently explained that we couldn’t get involved in every campaign that goes on for every anniversary for every charity, and that the Poppy Appeal has expanded now so that you can buy them from schools and a whole multitude of different locations, so we didn’t feel the need to be yet another point of sale for them. She then said “Hmmm, yes, but that is also true of Hallowe’en decorations and you couldn’t get those on display quick enough. It is also true of Christmas cards and advent calendars, and I’ll bet you a pound to a penny that you’ll have those all over this ‘point of sale’ in the next few days. So I guess your ‘involvement’ in these ‘campaigns’ is based on whether you’ll make any money out of them, right?’

She had backed me into a corner, and I salute her for it!

I threw off my cloak of corporate Wankspeak and admitted that she had a point. It was so nice to have a chat with her as myself, not hiding behind my Shield of Management, and she turned out to be a really nice lady – a volunteer dinner lady at a primary school and a passionate supporter of the Armed Forces, for whom several members of her family are employees. The outcome was that I promised her I would approach the British Legion with regards to hosting poppies next year and invited her to e-mail me with her arguments and I would forward them onto Head Office. I meant it too. Normally the good-old ‘put it in an e-mail’ quote is a way to get them out of your face and out of the building and your intention is only ever to hit ‘delete’ when the invited missive arrives. But this is different. I admired her passion and her intellect and I agree with her now – we SHOULD all play our part in remembrance, rather than just going ‘Poppies are everywhere, so we don’t need to hold them.’

Also made me think a bit about the way I deal with unhappy customers. I normally put up my ‘here we go again’ screens and treat them all as if their complaints are nothing more than unjustified ‘poor me’ moanings, but maybe if I took the time to listen to them properly and see them all as individuals with their own senses of what’s important I may find them all to be as convincing as this lady was today. So my plan from now on is to give people a proper ear and see if I can brighten their day a bit, rather than switch myself off while they give their frustrations an airing and then deflect them away with bullshit. If I’m calm and friendly, maybe I’ll get a calm and friendly response, rather than meeting hostility with hostility and making it worse for both of us.

I can’t guarantee that’ll happen next time some twat of a truck driver unloads on me about the price of vape liquid, but I promise I’ll do my best.

RC 12-11-18

Parenting Plans

Sod changing nappies and all that malarkey, I’ve decided my most important role as a father is to be the cultural advisor for my offspring. So I’ve given this some serious thought, and here are the THREE THINGS (from each medium) I will be introducing my child to:

BOOKS

HIS DARK MATERIALS by Philip Pullman (yeah, I know, a trilogy)

COMPLETE ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES (yeah, I know, a collection)

ALL THE ASTERIX BOOKS (yeah, I know, etc…)

FILMS

The Wizard Of Oz

Citizen Kane

Some Like it Hot

ALBUMS

The White Album by The Beatles

Blood on the Tracks by Bob Dylan

Back In Black by AC/DC

TV

The Flintstones

The Simpsons

Everything David Attenborough has ever done.

That TV section should take him about 40 years to get through, so as far as I’m concerned that’s my bit over and done with! Over to Philippa for the rest of it…….

RC 9-11-18

Blame the Midweek Blues

Sorry for rambling on about a load of old nonsense yesterday. I have no idea why that fellow bothered me so much, nor why I spent the rest of the day simmering my hatred for him in an internalised cauldron of resentment, nor why I felt the need to poison your eyes with my bitterness. I can only put it down to tiredness, irritability and middle-aged, soon-to-be-a-parent grumpiness.

Today I’ve been much calmer, humbler and more forgiving, and I hope that will be reflected in this blog posting.

The supermarket is now full of Christmas. Credit to them for waiting until after Bonfire Night, but my God they’ve made up for lost time, and then some. We have a Christmas tree the size of Belgium in the foyer, a mountain of chocolate fingers near the entrance and three aisles packed full of FESTIVE SPECIALS. (mostly things they have in the shop all the time, just re-packaged to incorporate snowflakes and costing double the price.) The tills all look like they’ve been blocked in behind walls of £2 advent calendars and there’s so much tinsel around it’s like Santa himself has vomited over the shelves.

Not sure why I think Santa’s vomit would be tinselly, but there you go….

We have less than 7 weeks until Christmas and the BUY STUFF NOW onslaught has begun. Have you noticed that approximately 70% of all adverts in TV breaks are already acting like it’s December 23^rd?  Bastards. No wonder ‘The Magic’ is fading. No wonder kids get loopy and leery. Can we really expect them to behave and not have breakdowns when they’re forced to think about something exciting that is still a good two months away?

I’m boycotting Channel 4 until the end of the year, by the way. I was already of the opinion that, The Simpsons aside, everything on that poxy channel is a bottom-of-the-barrel, lowest-denominator, unchallenging, bringing-back-the-concept-of-the-Victorian-freak-show shitemare, but the straw that broke the Chesworth back was this:

Since November 1st each of their programmes has been preceded by an advert that states “Festive entertainment, brought to you by (insert current sponsor name here)”

FESTIVE ENTERTAINMENT…. On November 1^st!!!!!!!

It makes me want to walk naked to their offices and annihilate them all with a chainsaw, but legally I can’t do that, so instead I’m refusing to watch their on-screen outpourings of effluence.

See – that was a much less moany blog post than yesterday!!!!!

RC 8-11-18

These can't all be brilliant

I really do meet some interesting people in my line of work. And by ‘interesting’ I probably mean ‘ignorant.’ Today’s Wally-Walking-Round-In-Human-Form was a chain-smoking gas boiler maintenance engineer from Peterborough, on his way through to Felixstowe for some reason or other. He walked into a conversation we were having about heating in our homes. Someone in the queue had turned theirs off again as the weather is supposed to stay mild for the next ten days or so. I commended them, but said I was leaving ours on a low setting, as my wife (not sure if I’ve mentioned this before) is really rather pregnant, and our storage heaters take ages to warm the house up again if you turn them off and let everything get cold.

Our visitor – one of those guys who lets a conversation run before stepping into it and telling everyone else why they’re wrong – decided to wax lyrical about his own preferred method of homelife which he insists is ‘the only way to be.’ Part of it involved him adjusting the thermostat settings in each individual room, depending on what he might be doing in there at any given part of the day, which kind of makes economical sense in a way. But the bit that got under my skin and picked away at my psyche was this – he says he has a plug-in heater going full-bore in his bedroom every night, while also sleeping with the window open. When we pressed him as to the logic behind this, he said “I like cool air to breathe but I hate having cold feet. This way I achieve perfection.”

What a tool.

I was overwhelmed by the urge to point out the nonsensical thinking behind his ‘foolproof scheme’, and to mention the environmental catastrophe he was adding to by ploughing through fossil fuel-based electric running one of the most energy-inefficient products ever created by Man. But really – what would be the point? People like him say things like that precisely because they want to get a reaction of some kind from people like me. So I quietly bit my lip while waiting for him to head back to his extremely lonely life of driving around on his own, fixing boilers for other people, and then going home alone to his lonely hot-and-cold bed.

I’m not sure I’ve accurately recounted the whole encounter, and I imagine it was a boring, jumbled mess to read, but typing it all out in this posting has got it all out of my head and lessened the likelihood of me pushing his head through a window the next time I see him.

I thank God I have this blog to moan in or I’d have been sacked from my job a year ago…

RC 7-11-18

Considerations, not Commandments

A 10-point Guide To Life, for future reading by my son/daughter.

A few things I’ve picked up along the path, Junior. It’s up to you if you follow them….

Never test a battery with your tongue.

Only wash your tea mug once a day – and do it last thing at night. Brews taste better when you use the same mug repeatedly.

Keep your mind clear and your fingernails clean.

Share all your wisdom but keep your disappointments to yourself.

Fall in love with film but don’t be tempted by television.

Don’t live your life on the internet.

Don’t live your life through other people.

Be true to your beliefs, and be truthful to your parents.

Try not to vomit while kissing.

Never eat anything that smells like it’s been through a Walrus.

RC 6-11-18

GMT and PMS

I’m having to use my headlights when I’m driving home from work now. It’s depressing and it’s probably at least five months to pass before I can stop doing it. Bloody Winter with its bloody cold days and its bloody dark nights. But why moan? I can either lump it or leave the country, and I have to admit I’m too lazy to go through the hassle of transporting a heavily-pregnant wife further South. All is not well in the world of Philippa, by the way. She’s having one of those spells where impending motherhood feels like a burden and an inconvenience rather than a beautiful, natural state to be celebrated. She feels fat and unattractive and uncomfortable and her mood is reflected in her movements and manner. I thought all this up-and-down, topsy-turvy, moods-swinging-like-a-horse’s-cock way of life would change now she’s pregnant and not having periods, but no. She continues to be an interesting lottery of a woman – you buy a ticket and hope for the best, not knowing whether you’ll become a millionaire or simply have wasted your money. (or in this case – you go to bed not knowing if you’ll wake up with a loving marshmallow or a rabid panther.)

Not sure that was my best-ever description of my relationship, but I think I have a cold coming, so my creative wordsmith’s mind is befuddled by the fog of phlegm.

RC 5-11-18

Bang

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again:

Fireworks are Mankind’s greatest invention, bar none.

RC 3-11-18

Don't mention the tooth

I noticed today that I’m on course to smash my record for the most number of blog postings in a calendar year. Anyone would think I’ve had lots of extra things going on to write about or something…..

I think it would be great if I could top 250. That would be a nice sense of achievement, and is easily do-able based on my output thus far. All being well, and assuming I don’t have a catastrophic stroke or accidentally cut my hands off with a pencil, I should have broken last year’s total later this month. That’s amazing really – beating my previous best with more than a month to spare!

(Yes, I know, I’m brilliant)

I’m not saying I’m a modern-day Shakespeare (although you may call me that if you wish) but after previously getting hassled by a High School teacher for constantly handing in homework late, it’s nice to feel a little bit prolific in my own way (so screw you, Mr Robertson.)

In other news, we have de-scared all the garages and packed away the Hallowe’en stuff ready for next October. I’ve left out most of the unsold confectioneries with a ‘Perfect for Bonfire Night’ label on them and 50% off. People have already complained about the drop in price happening the day after Trick-or-Treating, but stuff ‘em. If they’ve reached adulthood without sussing out the way consumerism works that’s their fault. Hey, guess what Nimrods? Almost everything you buy in December will be double the price that it will be in January! What a shocker. It’s the same everywhere, every year. The only way to beat the system is to accept it and plan around it. If I was them I’d be stocking up on cheap chocolates now before the prices ramp up nearer Christmas. (and preferably from one of my garages!)

Have a good weekend.

RC 2-11-18

Full, and fillings

Holy shit on stick – another month has gone.

I’ve landed inside November with a toothache. I must admit that I’ve used the presence of Hallowe’en as an excuse for indulging in sweeties and cakes. Everywhere I’ve been this week, members of staff have brought in home-made brownies, toffee apples and bags of fun-size choccies. My way of thinking is that it’s bad management if I don’t try at least one of everything. If my employees have gone to the effort of providing sugary sustenance then it would be rude of me not to partake. My favourite sample of the week so far has to be an Eccles cake made by a lady called Janina who works part-time at the garage furthest away from my home. Made with puff pastry, packed full of fruit and with a delicious unidentified glaze on the top that I suspect may have been a combination of rum and honey. Yum, yum and yum.

Anyway the down side is that I now have a molar that feels like it’s been turned inside-out and is basically an open nerve that throbs if I do so much as brush my tongue against it. So now I’m deciding whether to take my fear by the throat and book to see a dentist, or just buy some Sensodyne to rub on it and hope it’ll go away by Sunday. That’s sound medical practice, right? Ignore the shit out of it and wait to see what happens? I believe it’s called ‘The Ostrich Method.’ Recommended by almost all trained professionals, I’m sure.

RC 1-11-18

Hallowe'en Haiku 2018

Thanks for buying sweets

You have treated your children

And upped my profits

RC 31-10-18

Monday morning musings

The Hallowe’en décor seems to be going down well with customers, and the charity bucket is jingling nicely to the sound of many added coins. A few people here and there are moaning about it all – e.g. “Why can’t you just be a ****ing garage?” but they’re probably the same sort of people who moan about Christmas, so **** ‘em.

It’s fair to say I’m enjoying life, really. Enjoying it to a very unexpected level. When I accepted the change of position I thought it might take me six months to settle in and work out whether I had made a mistake or not, but with just under two months gone I already feel like I know what I’m doing, and I’m pleased to be doing it. I like the variety, the new locations, the slightly-differing atmospheres and attitudes from each separate workforce. Even the added responsibility, so far, sits well. No doubt there will be days where I want to massacre all my staff and throw myself under the wheels of a tanker, but I haven’t had them yet, so who knows?

RC 29-10-18

Another Saturday, another poem

He was sat by the window, feeling morose

She was miles away, with a shrink

He was eating a lemon curd sandwich, with chopsticks

Trying, so hard, not to think.

He was walking along with his dog on the beach

She was sat in her office, alone

He kicked all the sand from his feet, blinking tears

While his Labrador nuzzled a bone

He was driving to work, elbow-deep in regret

She was laughing with mates, and with wine

He wiped his tears with a monogrammed hankie

Waiting for Summer to shine.

He was drinking a sherry, menu in hand

She was naked, enjoying a smoke

But I have to admit, that their paths never crossed

I’m talking of two separate folk.

RC 27-10-18

Getting Wood

I’ve decided that I need to have a Woody Allen film festival. I’m not talking about hiring a cinema somewhere and putting on a two-week retrospective, it’s just an at-home solo watch-a-thon for my own viewing pleasure. The clocks change tomorrow (God help us) so we’ve got months of shittily dark evenings stretching ahead of us, so I figure spending my time avoiding Winter by losing myself in the World of Woody is a damn fine idea. Obviously, being me, I’ve already stormed onto eBay and ordered as many DVDs as possible. I’ve secured ‘The Woody Allen Collection’ (20 movies) for £17.95, and a 6-movie boxset called ‘Woody Allen Collection’ (not the same as the other one) for £5.99 plus £3.50 postage. Some films are repeated in both sets but who cares – I’m getting the rush of buying them and that’s the important thing here! Yes, I’m obsessive and act compulsively and sometimes indulge myself in expenditure without pausing for forethought, but it’s a few second-hand DVDs man, I’m not getting another iPhone just coz it’s available or amassing a garage-full of 1960s Stratocasters that I’ll never play or look at, so give me a break.

RC 26-10-18

Sobering thought

This time next week, we’ll be in November. Jesus, this year has flown by like a lost Red Arrow flying by a lighthouse. I guess it’s because I’ve had so much going on, and so much to think about. I’ve been so concentrative on what’s happening right in front of me that I’ve been blissfully unaware of time passing. Maybe that’s a lesson you can learn from me – if you find your life dragging on, just get someone pregnant and then change jobs. Next thing you know it’ll be six months later and you’ll be wondering what happened to Summer.

With less than two months until parenthood (excuse me a moment while I try to stop my hands shaking from the panic and adrenalin…….) I’m thinking of stopping drinking. Philippa has been off alcohol since well before a missed period, and it’s not as much fun downing a bottle of wine alone. I want to start my career as a father as I mean to go on – by being there and being supportive, and by setting a good example – so being teetotal when little Sproglette appears feels like the right thing to do. Plus – let’s be honest here – there’s a little tradition called ‘wetting the baby’s head’ and I figure that if I haven’t had a drink for eight weeks or so, when I go out to celebrate the birth of Junior I’ll get pissed on less than a fiver.

RC 25-10-18

Weird film thought

In the midst of a boring management planning meeting, I spent some time this morning thinking about films that have numbers in the title. Sorry, employers, but if you’re going to waste my valuable hours on meaningless get-togethers I am going to distract myself by drifting off inside my own head.

I started compiling a mental list of movies that begin with numbers, to see how far I could get before finding a number with no corresponding film title. I won’t list them all here, but just so you get what I mean – One Fine Day , Two Days In The Valley, Three Days Of The Condor, etc. Then I decided to rate them all and work out which one I thought was the “Start-With-A-Number Cinematic Masterpiece.”

My conclusion – “12 Angry Men” and “One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest” are pretty much inseparable.

God knows what was discussed in the meeting, but I’m sure I’ll find out eventually.

RC 24-10-18

25th and 20

Beryl floated the always-dreaded but always-necessary Christmas conversation on Sunday. It didn’t bother me too much because I’ve already been through the trauma of working out December work rotas for 4 different groups of employees, but I could see the ‘Oh, God’ look flit across the faces of both Philippa and Ted. I think Beryl’s determined to have a big one this year because she’s been so limpy for so long that she’s lost her place in the world as a woman who caters for everyone. Don’t have a go at me, feminists, this is all accepted fact by all those who know her, including herself. Nothing gives her greater pleasure than spending three weeks planning a big meal, three days preparing it, three hours cooking it and then three minutes serving it to as many people as she can cram into whichever given space she is serving it in. With a knackered knee, her ability to do all that has been limited. Now she is ‘fixed’ she’s ready to climb back on the catering horse and serve up a good’un for half the population of East Anglia.

It’s difficult for us to commit to anything, of course, because Philippa is due to give birth sometime around Christmas, but we’ve said we’ll go and see them on Boxing Day if we can. Bloody Hell – just typing ‘due to give birth’ has given me a shudder of panic. Every time I think I’ve cracked my lack of confidence about becoming a parent, something happens that makes me go all weak and useless all over again. I’ll be glad when this baby arrives because then I can stop worrying about what might happen when the baby arrives.

RC 23-10-18

4th and 1

We had Ted and Beryl over to ours yesterday. Beryl had her knee operation done a few weeks ago and is now starting to wander out and about a bit. I hope it makes a difference because she’s been struggling with it for a long time.

Ted got upset when I put the NFL Live from Wembley on the telly. He kept muttering ‘rugby for poofs’ under his breath and then pretended to be asleep.

He had a point about one thing – the anticlimactic nature of the ending. The last minute of the game took about 25 minutes to be played, and then it fizzled out into nothing. It had been very exciting up to that point, and the fact that it was a one-score game with thirty seconds left paled into insignificance under an avalanche of timeouts, injuries and clock resets.

I’ll shut up about it now. At least it was a good game and one of these days I will FINALLY go to Wembley and watch one of these things. Okay – NOW I’ll shut up about it.

RC 22-10-18