Being a husband

 The job of a husband is a difficult one. It's like my time is no longer my time. Even if I'm required to give my beautiful wife a back tickle in the morning once up she'll be saying "why haven't you done..." I wouldn't mind I would of got up at least two hours earlier but didn't want to disturb her sleep and also know I would be remiss of my duties if said back had not been tickled. For which the response would of been along the lines of "You're neglecting me..." It seems to me there are just so many things which need to be done. The five tree stumps in the back garden, the fence which was exactly where the tree stumps needs to be done, a house number has to be screwed to the brick wall, a new door bell bought, wood chippings are required for the allotment, I'm not doing any of the house cleaning, I've not made any meals, the things around the house which are done my beautiful wife tells me are not done by magic. I know the cars need a clean and a wash which I'd rather do as well but haven't gotten round to in weeks.

This is what happens when you get married late in life and your wife knows how things go but you don't. I tried the old "darling you look lovely in that blouse, I really like it" to which she laughed and said "I know what you're trying to do, you're trying to throw me a compliment and distract me" at which she then made a lunge for my omolophobia button to show she had control.

I so love my beautiful wife, she is the light of my life and makes me so incredibly happy, I mostly make her happy to, but I'm no longer a single person I am property of my wife. I know, it's stamped on my arse.

Fire in the garden and it rains

 This afternoon I have been using the chain saw on some tree stumps. The trees have been cut down, but the stumps remain. I has been an ongoing long labour. It can only be done when the weather is right. For the chain saw is powered by the mains electric and I'm getting old. Hell I'm lucky I can do what I can do when I'm pushing the wrong side of 50 and getting ever closer to the 60 mark. Picking up the chain saw and holding it for a few hours is a strain. The stumps have got smaller and Sparkling has said to me we should get someone in to finish the job and put up a fence. However, it's all to do with the spondoolies, if I can save a couple of quid here and there on things which I should be able to do then all so fair and good. It's bloody easy to spend money, but it's bloody hard to earn it.

The fire bin is full up, there's a lot of old garden fence in it and of course some of the conifer trees. They are all tinder dry. Sparkling set the fire ablaze and at first it smoked a lot. Shite, the though of the fire brigade being called out arose. I'd put some fronds from a palm tree in there and maybe they were not dry enough. Big bloody billows of smoke swirled around as an alternating breeze made the whole garden look like it was smoked up. Shite. Fortunately the sound of bells I heard were not coming to our house. 

Fire took a hold of the wood and flames shot up from the bin, they were taller than me so were probably 6 to 8 feet high. Then it began to rain, but the rain was weak and the fire strong. I was called in for dinner, a lovely stake an some bailed potatoes with copious amounts of butter. I ate and went outside. It was raining harder still. The wood however was so dry inside it wouldn't matter. So I piled on more bits of old rotting garden fence. The flames acted like they were a hungry beast and had just been fed. They didn't care about the rain. I got soaked but didn't care because of the heat being given off from the fire bin, it was lovely.

Sometimes things can be a contradiction and still work, even though in normal circumstances they might not. But given the right conditions they will.

Memories of the young and realities of the growing up

 It's funny getting old. I recall when Monster Boy loved to be taken out for a walk to the park, I played the monster and he would laugh hysterically as I chased after him. He's in his early twenties now and is suspected to have schizophrenia. His character is no longer carefree and it's as though he has a weight on his shoulders. He's not able to verbalise how he feels, it's like there's a block there. I know this is the same with every teenager and take it he is a late developer who's had to many family issues to count. So it's no wonder he can't communicate. I would like to help him more, but I'm unable to, I'm not his father he was handed a bad set of cards when growing up. I don't know what will happen of him and hope perhaps he will change. Unfortunately, I've seen the same bad set of cards handed to his older brother and he to has a mental health disorder which has got progressively worse. I can't help it, I remember them as children and want them to be happy and not grown up pricks.

Whereas today I was playing with my 4 year old grandson, Car Boy. He's completely infatuated with cars, he doesn't just play with them he loves to watch them crash on animated videos. We had fun, he laughed a awful lot and he was emotional at every whim he could possibly have. He also told me to F... off, but it was his emotions getting the better of him. It is funny even though awful to hear him say those words. perhaps I shouldn't swear so much either.

When we are young life is so simple and there is almost always a pair of warm comforting arms to hug away the tears. Oh how simple life seems in those early years.

New Job

 I have now got a new job. It's one where the training includes how to suck an egg, it took two hours to show a group of 7 the absolutely possibly right way to do it. Although I do think most of us already knew. Except for the one in the corner who keeps talking in tongues. The money isn't so good as it used to be so I'm now waiting for a full monthly wage slip to find out how little I actually do get paid. However, the biggest plus in the world is that I get to see my most beautiful wife Sparkling Eyes every day. I'm so lucky, lucky, lucky, lucky. So sang Kyle, however her name can never be mentioned in this household otherwise the usual quip comes out about things I'd rather not say and for fear of offending Kyle fans. Of which I'm one.

So for the sake of love, happiness and it's always good to make a change once in a while I'm now officially no longer based in London. My residence is Scotland, where at least the government actually does care for it's residents. The beaches hear are amongst the most beautiful I have ever seen, and with global warming will match any in the world. OK I'm a little bias but they truly will.

As for the job, I'll tell more once I've learnt to suck this here egg on my desk, next to my keyboard and mouse.

Leaving a job

I'm leaving my job. I've been in a local authority for many years, and although where I'm going is much less money, I'm leaving. For the new job is going to be in my new permanent home in Scotland. With the beautiful Sparkling Eyes, the wifey. 

All of my team have in some way said they will miss me and that I've done a good job. They probably say this because I try not to let them feel they are pressurised even though the work can be pressurised. Personally I don't give a crap for the management above me but I do like the people I work with. But then I am their manager so they must keep on my good side, yet I prefer if they speak their mind and show their true colours. For if I get something wrong then I have to make amends and get it right.

Each Monday at work is the most difficult because I have to set out a set of work tasks for my staff. This means starting work early, usually about 7 a.m. I will deliver them an email with a link to the work to be done and I'll also throw in some humour. They need a laugh, we all do. Today I said I was a Captain of the plane and they were not to try the exits while in flight. I was the only one with a parachute and had tried them myself, so it was no good opening them. Further, if they were really worried, then they should by extra insurance of the air stewards. I don't know if it gave them a little chuckle but I hope so. We all work hard and the man who is the head doesn't barely know any of his staff and wants to crack a whip. He also gives more to another section, which is not what his core job is about. For some reason, I have no respect for him. I used to fantasise what it would be like if he was inexplicably no longer in the work place because something bad had happened to him. It's remarkable how the brain can work to pull together a fake situation and get revenge. Because to be a leader of any organization requires more than looking at the costs of the organization, it means inspiring staff, accepting their importance, praising them for real, getting involved with them. And always striving to better the organization. This fella does none of that and I can't stomach him. In fact, I've got a problem with manager types, the vast majority I don't like, want nothing to do with and can't get on with. I only really became a manager so the managers above me couldn't tell me what to do anymore. The immediate ones couldn't but then it brought me a step closer to the grandparent manager, who became my parent manager. 

I don't like sycophants of any kind and wonder whether staff are being buddies because this is their nature, but if they were then there wouldn't be as many as there is. So maybe they do like me. Maybe I have done something right. I've seen a lot of arse lickers and have had enough. No doubt there will be some at my new job. But it will only be 8 years and I'll retire. Wifey says I am a push over as a manager, she's heard me on the phone and thinks my job is easy. But then she had previously done a very manual and difficult job. So she can now see how the other half live, or rather work. She likes the idea of an easier life and admin would be right up her ally. She's one smart cookie. Well she had to be to get married to me. Let it be known though I am very lucky, very lucky indeed, because she is a wonderful woman and one who is ying to my yang or whatever. Without her my working would have no meaning.

Lucia the little car and long road trips

My car has problems, it usually has one if not two a year. These mean some kind of repair is necessary, but even though it has a problem I don't throw it away. It gets fixed, maintained and used again. Since the pandemic has been here little Lucy or Lucia has been used for long trips between London and Scotland. In London Lucia has the luxury of a garage, in Scotland the poor thing is open to the elements and bird shite. She's now entering her 14th year of age. Her engine is not big but she endures, she has little in the way of insurance value, unless you can count my thankfulness.

She needs a good wash, she also needs something done to her speakers because they sound awful. I decided to start this myself, so bought a couple of speakers and then took one of the old ones out. Then bought a gas soldering iron. Then could not solder wires with the iron because I've not done it before. I bought adaptor rings for the speakers to help them fit in the car. So although one door now has no speaker the other three doors do. To make things worse the really bad speaker distortion is coming from a different speak still in the car. I have bought some connecting blocks and a tool which helps to put screw studs in metal so it's easier to fix the speaker in the door. I work during the day and it's too dark or cold to get a chance to do anything to the car. I've even thought about getting an Android radio to put in, but then you have to get a particular kind and also ensure the electrical connections are compatible. Did I say Lucia needs a wash?

So together we go on trips of about 500 miles, because I'm getting fat and old it's necessary to stop frequently to stretch my legs. This must be done every couple of hours. If I travel late at night to get out of London without traffic it means I will not be in Scotland to sometime the next day. My trips take about 11 to 12 hours. It's the rest stops which delay everything. There's a certain amount of preparation which must take place when I travel. Not just putting belonging in the car, it's the filling up of the tank and making sure I have a full flask. The other thing is carrying water, a sandwich and a full flask of hot tea. There's a period in the night when I'm aware my eyes get really tired. About 2 a.m. it's the death hour or two. I yawn, then sing, then talk, open the window a little, suck on a segment of lemon and fight sleep and death at the wheel. I've stopped before and spent time in a car park, engine off head back eyes closed, even being aware to allow myself a moment of sleep. It doesn't happen, but it is enough to get me back on track. A little walk around the car. Leg shake, half a cup of tea. Self talk and then back on the road. Having re-calculated how many more hours there are left to drive. Providing that is I don't take a wrong turn because the SATNAV just isn't clear enough in it's instructions. This happens mostly where lanes merge and then merge again.

It's near on two years I've been doing this trip every few months, or every few weeks depending on the lockdown or not lockdown. My small moving box keeps on going for now. It takes me to the woman I love, Sparkling Eyes. It's always a relief when the journey is over, care and distorted speakers permitting.