Rock Chick's got a voice

 One of the most pleasurable experiences I've had was last night when my step-daughter while under the influence of some grape juice began to put the world to rights. Because she was putting both myself and Sparkling Eyes under questioning, asking us whether we voted Brexit, then she told us how life is so difficult for women. And then she went on to say we were the Baby Boomers, or rather the Boomers. Whilst she was with it, hip and a Millennium. I'm not entirely sure what the definition is of a Millennium but she was one of them. She used all the social media platforms, but only to view and hardly ever to post items on them. She described them as a "mask" by which people hide their true persona and then become something else. Something not very nice. She wanted her children to have a better life. For Princess J who is actually not very Princess like and more of a Miss Minecraft knight. She told us how the world was so, so unfair and unjust for women who were expected often to sit in the house, were made to take second place. All the time she explained this, I recognised this Rock Chick wears the trousers, she's got a voice. A wonderful loud voice and I hope she uses it a lot more. Speaks out and takes on the biggots and shows she's one tough cookie. Which means this out of touch not with it Boomer had better know his place. I was indeed very proud and happy she could be so vocal and so much fun. I know now calling her husband Dangerous Sports Lad had a reason behind it. Mind he's not so much into the dangerous stuff now and is a very responsible Daddy.

Trees, a bee sting and the road back

So there stand at the end of the garden 4 sets of conifer trees, they could be llyandi, but I'm not entirely sure.  For the past several months I've had a go at cutting them down, unfortunately they also stretch over two other gardens and about 8 or 9 telephone lines. There are still strategically difficult branches which need cutting but may fall on a phone line or two. What do I do? I'm as the Scottish will tell you scunnered with them. I've had enough right up to my eyeballs but know the job needs to be attempted again. 

The problem is I need someone to help me. I've figured out its a matter of tying a rope to the overhanging branches and having a second person pull the rope so as the branch is cut and falls it moves to one side of the phone lines.  Alternative I'll need a neighbourhood counsellor as they come crashing down on the lines and the locals find they have no phone or internet services because they've been effectively cut off. Surely people can do without communication for a day. These providers are pretty quick to get them fixed. I know from experience as two lines have already been affected.

Only a couple of days ago I was helping baby sit my grandson. He's 3 years old and is infatuated with cars. He's also got a thing about being as messy as possible, running about without any clothes on and watching non stop cartoons. Which are actually quite funny, like Misha and the Bear, if you need a good laugh at the world watch it. This should be recommended viewing for all adults with a blue disposition, I laughed and laughed and laughed. However, as my wife Sparkling Eyes will tell you, a sense of humour can be a personal and even different thing. In the meantime if she wants to laugh she just watches me and within a few moments will be rolled up. She saw me take in the washing the other evening and while doing it I was stung by a bee. My reaction she found humorous but only confessed this after a glass of wine. Well it's good to be entertainment for one's loved ones.

 I will have to think about returning to London again. Even if it's for a short while. Mum is 80 and she is now afraid of cutting the grass incase she gets a nose bleed. It's the medication she's on. The last one took 30 minutes to stop and she doesn't want to overdo it. It is a funny thing but the saying absence makes the heart grow fonder is very true. I realise this now having barely seen her over the last couple of years when normally I wouldn't be able to get away from her. The government has now put in charge of Health a banker who likes to make money. Of course this will mean the entire country will learn lessons he will impose on us through his own ineptitude. But such is the road back. In this case it's probably a very windy one with some cliff edges to negotiate, a map and infrared goggles to help see at night would be a good thing.

Yep in London and working

 So here I am back in London for a week, maybe a little more. I head into the office to work, there are three sets of desks which combined could hold about 25 people. But they were never filled anyway. Now it's just me, nobody else. It's quiet. I pop onto twitter intermittently and hope no staff from other teams walk behind me on the way to the toilets. Hell, part of me doesn't give a shite. I miss my beautiful wife and I really don't know why I am here. Except my job is here and my mother is here and she's like a baby needing attention, needing things done because nobody else does it. No one else in the family seems to help. She's now 80 years old.

Over Xmas she'd broken her hip falling on a pavement curb. I'm sure I told her about that particular pavement because the curb was higher than normal. I'd tripped myself. She fractured her pelvis and then spent near on 6 weeks in hospital. She also caught the COVID while in hospital, but got over it like it was a snivel and was nothing. I got half her genes so with a little luck if it comes my way I to might sail through it. Whereas my wife thinks the whole thing is a conspiracy of sorts. The COVID isn't killing as many people as you think she would argue. I managed to kind of get over the hurdle of having a wife who disagrees with me. But it's good she does because it wouldn't be so much fun. I never say I told you so, because it would be met with an onslaught. But I love it and love her. Mentally it took a bit of effort to get over being called a Boris cock sucker for believing the Tories. The COVID however is not about the Tories only, it is real and is a pandemic. We are just extremely lucky the death count and virulence isn't higher. It's not an Ebola, but if it were the whole country would be in deep shit. 

Again I'll say it a thousand times, the COVID has been a great opportunity to spend so much time with my beautiful wife Sparkling Eyes. It has deepened my affection so much more. She reminds me it took me long enough to get married and realise she was the best thing ever. It's true. About 25 years if all be told. It's kind of sad we're only going to be on our third anniversary in October, but in reality it's probably our 28th anniversary. Time does fly by so quickly.

When I'm at work I try and take notes of all the things I do. Not just as a justification to show I am working but to somehow memorise them. It don't particularly help my memory but then the problem with work is it's like running up a slippery hill. You never feel you are on top of it. Quite often I forget things and I've come to the conclusion it's because I'm distracted. Whether it be a phone call, an email or something else. An interruption stops my train of thought. I'm a quality person not a quantity person. I like to do my best and when a job is completed hope it doesn't rear it's ugly head again. There are way too many employees who think they must just shift boxes. And they're the ones who make mistakes, bad decisions and their work raises like shit to the surface again. Shit is the very operative word. If I were a ruthless bastard and had more power, these persons would be sacked. But I don't have more power and have learned to quell my thoughts. For making a decision on a reactionary basis is never a good thing to do. Always sit and think about it.

I can't wait to get out of London and be in Scotland again. With my wife and my real family. It will happen shortly. Grandchildren are like beautiful little sparkles and bundles of absolute joy.

A brief return to London

The lockdown period is nearly at a prescribed end. However, before it does end I find myself just about to head down from Scotland to London. I haven't missed London as much as I've enjoyed the love of my beautiful wife Sparkling Eyes. To have a near year of waking up with her, getting drunk and enjoying the TV in her company has been wonderful. There's been the odd disagreement but it's OK to disagree, its how you disagree with someone you love which matters. It's about caring for each other and having fun. Having seen move of the grandchildren I've  learnt a lot more about them. Their two little personalities really have shined out and they are so different from each other, Princess J has just turned 8 and she is as energetic as the day she was born, she wants to be doing things all the time. Whereas little Car Boy who loves cars is much slower in his growing up. He takes it easy, likes to sit down and have cuddles, likes to sing the wheels on the bus go round and round and of course he always likes playing with his Cars. I love them as well. In Short it has been fantastic.

Except for the rain. It's like the country has had nothing but rain right up to late May. It's been a difficult time trying to grow seeds then putting the plants out only for them to die or be eaten by mice or slugs. The struggling life of an allotmentier goes on. 

So I'll be off tonight to London and to see how Ma is. She's 80 now and has the frailties of an old 80 year old. I also now tell her I love her after phone conversations, just resigned she will not ever understand how growing up with her as a mother was problematic to say the least. Not everyone is suited to motherhood and there is no test to see who is and who isn't. A little like voting and understanding politics.

Sheeples, the Conspiracy Theorists at work

The world's second worst leader Mr Bozo Johnson has said we're going into another lockdown, probably for 4 weeks, just as Christmas is around the corner. This is disastrous news. Sparkling Eyes has started to become a conspiracy theorist, to tell the truth I can't blame her, it would be easy enough to fall into but I'm not a conspiracy theorist and have a thing about intensely disliking those who peddle such things. I keep my cool about it after all this is the woman of my life and love. So we disagree but have fun in our disagreements and am called a sheeple. Mind, I think those who follow those nuts are sheeples. I have no doubts in my mind the world is dumbing down big time, because it's easier for right wing media to manipulate dumb animals than those who question a lot. Hence conspiracy theories created by people who know something isn't right and the dumbed media is playing them. However, they have lost the plot in themselves as rather than try and filter through the science and the facts they look to other people who think the same, but are not experts and make up their own theories of the world. They piece together little bits of information and make it all link up but it's not right. Whilst the big time theorist suddenly whip up their own Patreon channels and gaining a following. They don't expect everyone to pay for news, but it's a numbers game. Get enough of them to follow you and a few will put their hand in their pocket to pay for some extra morsels of information. It's a glorified Ponzi scheme on how to make money.

I studied a science based degree, high in statistics, it also required the critical analysis of journal articles posted by the latest scientists. From critical study classes the acronym JORIPIEF was stamped into our consciousness. It stands for Justification, Operationalisation, Replicability, Internal Validity, Presentation, Interpretation, External Validity and Final Analysis. At the end of the Critical Theory course we did a 6 hour straight up exam, reading through a paper and then writing an summary essay on the paper's findings. I doubt if there was anyone who didn't love the course. It really tested your mind and ability to pull apart a pier reviewed article not seen before. This piece of education I still carry around with me today and have done for nearly 30 years. It is  useful and I'm sure has made me more science conscious than the ordinary Joe Blogs who just accepts things. I even wonder why the heating engineer doesn't use the Kaizen principle of asking the 5 whys. Hence their being called out every year to fix the boiler. It makes me hold little faith in heating engineers, but my degrees were not in plumbing and fixing heating otherwise it would of been sorted. I mean, could I really sell such information to supposed experts? With the question "Do you ask yourself why, five times when fixing the boiler?" Why did this part break? Found the answer first time then ask again repeatedly until running out of answering  and the boiler was permanently fixed. The same goes for this age of information or as the Trump likes to call it fake news information, funny how he seems to be the generator of the most fake news about in American politics.

It is a odd time to be living in Britain. It's like the world of the internet has also come to a new and different age of development. It is the one of conspiracy theories, fake news, brainwashing and sheeple of all kinds who have self radicalised into one theory or another. The country is at war with itself over BREXIT and it's like we can't turn to the left or the right to find out what is real. The enormous majority of the voting public have not an iota notion of the scientific method, are unable to think for themselves or believe they are actually thinking for themselves when they are not. All because they have been fed a theory from a conspiracy theorist who likely has an inkling of a mental illness but goes about the country with their smart phone filming episodes where they challenge authority figures or police. They may even get arrested and released, but this only makes their followers follow more and bleet like a sheeple at the great unravelling of a mystery. Which isn't really a mystery at all it's a crack pot, tin hat, flim flam, loopy lou quality nut job. When challenging the conspiracy theorists they can't take the challenge either, they are fixed in a mode of thought which is to protect their dedicated hours of viewing brain decaying crap. 

It was with sadness I heard the death of the great James Randi, a man who I would of loved to have met. A man who took on the world of flim flam and found many who were willing to make money out of the naive, the ones wanting answers but not willing to put the time in themselves to find truth by science. One thing is for sure if the world carries on this way the human population will deserve to commit self harm and die off.  Well, you gotta laugh, if you don't you'd cry. 

We are made of start dust billions of years old and to which we will all return.

Shrinking Socks

Princess J is now 7 years old, she's big and she tells me she is old. I'll not say otherwise because in this household she is a Princess and she is also the boss. I have to do everything she tells me to do and sometimes I might not like to do it, but I still do my best to follow her instructions. Until the moment Sparkling Eyes rescues me and says I should not be acting like a doggy. Instead I'll eat the left over ice cream lolly Princess J can no longer stomach, it's handed over to me with the words "do you want this?" Lovely I think as the chocolate cornetto is devoured. Now if only I can remember next time not to get an ice lolly for myself because I've now had one and a half and that waist line isn't getting any smaller. Without knowing it she's a little feeder.

One thing about Princess is she wears small socks. On account of only being 7 years old. They would be small of course and as she's a pretty energetic sort of girl, running jumping and generally playing with joy as often as possible so her socks get dirty. I know this. I've seen them, at the end of the day a beautiful light pair of pink socks becomes very dirty with the soles approaching a dark pink come black. What gets me though is the size of her socks, the small size and this in turn is starting to reflect in my own socks.

It was only two weeks ago I bought 7 pairs of socks, each pair has the day of the week on them. Being a rebel this is not something to take much notice of, whatever pair comes to hand is the ones which will be worn that day. Some of these new socks have now been washed and I'll occasionally reach in the draw and pull out a pair. Except now they have shrunk to such as size they could easily be worn by Princess J. If they shrink any further then she'll not be able to wear them but her somewhat smaller 3 year old brother could. After having a show I pick up my socks and then it is like a tug-of-war trying to pull them over the toes and onto my foot. Now this is a problem I've got with T-shirts on account of them shrinking simultaneously as my belly gets bigger so the large t-shirt is now replaced by an extra large t-shirt. The remaining t-shirts I put on but I must admit they are a bit of a close fit and this 8 month pregnancy look doesn't do me any favours. Luckily I'm married not to Sparkling and she'll not go running off with a younger model. She actually likes the older fat dude, probably on account she's a feeder as well. Perhaps I should not be such an eater and the belly will reduce a little. Returning back to the issue of socks, what can be done to solve this problem? 

Maybe it's the manufacturers, they could be using a cheaper cotton, one which shrinks. Maybe it is my feet, maybe on account of getting fatter my foot size is also swelling up. Now there is a little truth to this as my shoe size has increased a little. Yet again I believe it is related to the manufacture of shoes and trainers but this evidence is now coming at me thick and fast. Bigger t-shirts, bigger shoes heavier weight on the talking scales which scream out "ya fat bastard" but ever so politely. No, my socks really are shrinking and they really are small enough Princess J could put them on except they are not the colour she'd normally wear. She likes unicorns and princesses and doggies. She also likes her Pops but I'm sure there's no such thing as a Pops sock she could put on. Sparkling though she loves so much it hurts when she doesn't see her. Awwe.

So what is the answer to the ever decreasing socks?

 

A Team Meeting with a bunch of Rebels

It was only yesterday I'd called a Team Meeting. The gang were going to meet up using MS Teams and it was necessary to use the dodgy office Wifi with my laptop. On account of an employer who employs so called big shots who think they know something about IT when in fact they know nothing. Neither can they find funds to provide staff with business laptops but other departments they do. The Covid had reached parts of the organization other pandemics just can't. Effectively most office workers had become home workers but  they used their own computers. This is a little annoying, for all those staff who have been shunted out had not been supported by giving them the loan of real work place computers. Instead what they all got  software to run on their computers in order to securely access the office systems. Some staff have old computers only a few steps on from the abacus. Others soon complained they didn't have large enough monitors and got eye strain, they would have to buy their own large monitor to work. Perhaps feeling  abandoned by an employer who wanted them to work but couldn't be half arsed. Or maybe it was the distaste of an edict from up high saying they all had to re-connect. Permanent office workers were demanded to attend the office, show their bright happy sneering smiles. Their rebellious grouchy side and face down their managers. For most it meant using public transport and the possibility of getting the Covid. Pissed off is a good term to use.

I'd prepared some minutes from a management meeting and was using them as an outline. They had already been sent out but to me it was clear staff don't read emails, and especially can't be bothered with attachments. They are also prone to forgetting stuff and need to be reminded. I know this because it is a common thing as a manager to have staff ask you questions which they should already know the answer to, if they had read that minute, email or attended the team meeting they should of been at. So I read through the notes in front of me and then at some point the workers decided they would rebel.  It began with one person, it's funny how it takes this one person with a bit of gumption to give a speech others to follow suit. Whereas individually they might be a little reticent, together it was a different matter. They had formed a group, a crowd and had things to say. I watched the video feed as my usual angry voice woman let her opinion be known. It's always the same tract of discussion and same points she makes so she's got it off pat now. We don't get paid enough, management don't know what they are doing, we don't have enough staff, we are being taken advantage of, why are we not supported. So much money is wasted here. She was on a role and I've learnt not to interrupt when this happens. At least ten if not fifteen minutes she moaned. She also said managers didn't care and just enjoyed job grade dishing out work. I could of taken offence to this, but she's right it is our job to give out the work so why on earth make a self-evident statement? Probably because she didn't think we did much. However, other members of staff then joined in and swung a few left hooks with a sneaky upper cut. Slow girl who takes forty minutes to sit at her desk and get a cup of tea in normal circumstances asked "why didn't I get short listed for her previous job in department Z".  Because your too slow, lazy and it would be too much effort to sack you, I might of said. Another voice piped up, but with a tongue in cheek smile "nobody is here to support us, who is in our corner". At which I could of laughed, all staff get a pretty good pay for what they do and seem to think they are worth more. It must be austerity. Also if they feel they are not being treated they have every opportunity to say so, to complain and to get their unions involved. Oh dear what a good grump this lot were on.

This wasn't a case of 5 types of difficult people at work this was a case of a full team of 12 difficult employees at work, giving the boss a kick around like he's a football. One thing I must state here as well. My team is full of women, and I'm a male. I've been at the job as long as them and they've all had the opportunity of being a manager when those managerial posts have popped up. It's just that I went for the job and beat the other applicants at it. It doesn't make me better or worse, we have an equality conscious workplace and if any member of the team felt it wasn't equal there are copious procedures which they could use. In fact one very troublesome woman who was incompetent at her job and didn't like to be referred to occupational health had fabricated lies against me and has been gently pushed sideways to another team. She's had at least four other managers she's done this to, she'd lasted the longest on my team. About 8 years before getting moved on. I just had to get that off my chest because no matter how easy my staff think my job is there's a hell of a lot going on in the background they are not aware off because of confidentiality issues and would raise their eyebrows to say the least. Personally I try to let them get away with as much as possible because they are a conscientious bunch even though a rabble at times. The thing which can give me a personal gripe is, I've worked in the private sector, and they want blood sweat and tears out of you for every penny they pay. As an employee you have no real rights regardless of what the law says, private companies will always find a way of sacking staff if they are not toeing the line even when the line towed is taking advantageous of the employee. As far as private companies are concerned the employee should be happy they are in a job shut up and get on with it. This is the reality I experienced before going into the Public sector.

And another thing. Public sector managers are expected to do multiple jobs, they are not just there to manage staff they have their own workload, are often the go-to-decision-maker when a member of staff doesn't know what to do. They are the on-the-job-trainer because the actual trainer is usually someone who doesn't do the job and then is expected to teach staff who do and so is a complete waste of space. Middle managers are the ones who take the impact of senior managers making demands and then have to take the impact of employees who have a different view of the world. Give us the tools that work and we can perform the job. Higher managers don't engage one to one with staff, don't know what is happening on the ground and have lost touch, they then make decisions which affect other staff and wonder why the reaction is what it is. The middle manager is the one who does their best to keep everyone happy. The middle manager has to be a HR expert because HR don't really do HR stuffthey are glorified interpreters of procedures but have never actually managed a team of staff and then tell you to get on with it. They are often in my experience not very helpful and don't take on a responsible role. OK that's my gripes out of the way. No wonder I love my team when they stick the boot in and show how pissed off they are. Now if only a couple of them would become union reps and demand action from senior fat arse managers who enjoy the pay but don't do the work. Holly shite, do I sound like my own staff?

 

The getting lost dream

I've had this dream before, sometimes there's a cycle when a certain dream will pop up. This is one of them. Mostly I don't remember what I dream, however, not getting a decent night's sleep can cause them to remain in memory. This morning, the dream lingered on. To the extent it had to be googled just to find out what it meant, or what someone's interpretation of it meant. After all dreams are roundabout ways of providing messages. 

Somehow I was trying to find my way back. Back to a place I was familiar with, but I was walking in an unfamiliar place. Past buildings and roads. looking around wondering if i was going the right way. I thought a strategy, it was like being on holiday and not getting to appreciate the surroundings, then when you get lost it's because walking back on what should be the same route you took, isn't the same. The reason is easy, you walk in one direction, so coming back everything is viewed from a different directly. I was in the dream and at the same time coaching myself how not to get lost. I also thought it was important to try and remember landmarks, certain buildings as these would aid the return trip. However, just like my mind was playing with me the thought arose those same landmarks would also look different from a different angle and direction. It seemed as if there were no way out of this slow walking journey of sleep to wakefulness.

The dream by the way is an indicator of anxiety, and the acknowledgement of being in the wrong place in your life. As if you should be in another place, doing something else. I thought about this and considered it's because I should be spending my life with Sparkling Eyes and the wonderful family I have in Scotland. A crazy family I miss every single day I'm not there.

Being Married to Sparkling Eyes

I love being married to Sparkling Eyes and will shortly be having a belated honeymoon in Budapest. We have never been there and each evening I'll spend a little time researching Hungary, whether it's the politics, or culture or trying to learn a little bit of the language. But trying to fit into a couple of weeks the full language will not happen. I read Hungarian words, I watch YouTube videos but then the things float away out of my head like they were attached to helium balloons. Please come back and stay in this brain permanently, but they don't so yet again another set of words has to be read or listened to or written down in the hope they will stay a little longer. Sparkling Eyes makes fun of my attempts to learn languages before we go on holiday and says the only thing I said when we were in Spain was Si, and nothing else. Which is probably true. sitting and practising a language at home is not the same as being in the actual country and speaking it, or trying to speak it.

We will be heading off to Budapest on the 14th February, Valentines day. It is the first time in twenty plus years we have actually had this day together in each other's company. This is because Sparkling's birthday is in January and I before that I also spend December and Christmas with her. It's been a long distant relationship for a long time, which is going to change. Because Sparking and my beautiful real family is now in Scotland not in London. But London is where the job is amongst other responsibilities. As a surprise I have brought a card which says to my darling wife. She had expected a wife birthday card and was a little disappointed when she didn't get one. Damn if only my mind-reading was dialled up a bit more the vibes would of come through this thick head.

I tell Sparkling Eyes I love her as often as possible, it is like a treasure which must be given every day. In turn Sparkling is the same. It is a lovely warm feeling to have the most important person in my world say this. Am I so lucky or what? Perhaps this is a hallo effect, the thing that happens when first getting married, however, we have been partners for many years. It's no sudden thing, it has taken many years to get to this place. A place I so love being and being in love.

I didn't get the job, and am happy about it

It's a funny old thing is work, it's something which has to be done in order to live your life. As a colleague who sits next to me says, this is her second job, her first job being her family. I get it. Being for most part a single male but now lately married to the most beautiful woman in the world, my wife otherwise referred to as Sparkling Eyes, I used to otherwise be engrossed in my work and the notion of becoming as high a manager as possible. An opportunity arose to move from middle management to upper management, or what is otherwise called Senior Management Team, so I went for it, just for the fun of the interview experience, because this is something it is necessary to continually test yourself doing. There's nothing like the fun of an interview and the preparation needed. However in the back of my mind, I wasn't too bothered at all for a number of reasons.

Firstly, there are more bad managers out there than good managers. Sometimes the term "leader" is used but this is a complete misnomer, for I've found it synonymous with the other term called "incompetent." Then on many occasions wondered if it was jut me, perhaps I was the one who had a bad attitude. Well it turns out as you get to know thoughts of the staff around many can be found to have a similar opinion. There's an unspoken acknowledgement which goes along the lines of: I work here to get money but you don't own me and you are not in anyway a superior or worthy to be called a leader, you don't lead me but I'll keep my views to myself and if the opportunity comes up to improve the workplace, or make an efficiency saving in some way, I'll just keep my mouth shut and say absolutely nothing. For a rational employee can not reason with an arsehole, and a rational employee knows said arsehole would take any money saving suggestion, any efficiency idea and wrap it up in their own sycophancy to say it belonged to themselves. The employee should never show they are as good or better than their boss. Bosses don't like this, bosses are often not the person you would go to if the building was on fire and you wanted to get out of it alive. In such circumstances the wise employee will do their own thing and get out leaving the boss to their own devices. So it comes to the crux of the matter, I really don't like my boss. The previous one I did like but she had to leave for medical reasons, whereas the current one who normally just likes to talk over everyone with his opinion and is love with the sound of his own voice, is a real piece of work sitting on the top of the hill creaming off a large salary and not doing much at all.

Bosses have to learn HR systems, they have to learn how to deal with HR crisis points, employees who don't get on with each other. Or employees who are not doing enough work, or employees who need to be interviewed because they have taken too much sick leave and it's time they were reprimanded for not dying on the job at their desk, because nobody in this place is allowed to take sick. I'm a boss in the middle so I'm an arsehole to someone, because no matter how nice you try to be there will be someone amongst the workforce who doesn't get on with you, doesn't like you, or just loves to push the envelope so far it is necessary to bring them in line. At which point you become eternal enemies and you're subject to the glare, the whisper or worst of all a counter allegation which likely has no base to it but will take up hours and hours of your time trying to defend. This is because the boss above is an arsehole, as I've already said and needs to get in on the scene to prove it.

Getting back to the interview. As my boss is not someone I think I can get on with, I don't care much for him or his opinions and would hate to sit next to him on a permanent basis, this would be necessary if I'd got the job. I didn't, so managed to dodge the bullet, I wipe my brow. Instead another middle manager got the job, who I should really thank, except she's the biggest sycophant going and

in her unctuous way is also another person with detestable characteristics. The interview process I enjoyed as it gave me a chance to talk and talk rubbish, even if I was going to try and answer the interview questions. I learnt a little about using powerpoint, learnt I had to time myself to a 10 minute only presentation and besides this didn't do a great deal more in revising for the post. So I'd let myself down, but the intention was to enjoy the interview and to put psychological pressure on unctuous sycophantic woman. Which I now find out it worked. After my interview I came back to my desk all jolly and happy, she saw this and then went off and had a cry. It was bliss to my ears finding this out, she deserved to cry after all the incidents she'd been an instigator off over many years. But in the end she got the job, the money would of been lovely, but sitting next to Biggus Dickus would not of been pleasant, for he's a man who uses his arsehole a lot and has taught it how to converse in everyday language, it's so good at conversing it thinks it is the bees knees. But we all know it's not.


So the game I will now be playing is going to be to the highest psychological level I can muster, this woman going to find she might be boss but she's not the boss of this dude by any means.

Taxi driver's story of marriage in Las Vegas

Dangerous lad had phoned for a taxi, we and our little Ball Boy on account the best word he can say is "ball" and he's very good at kicking, better than your average 16 month old I'd say. Besides his bunny which he is very fond of, give him a ball and play with him and he'll be very happy. We were about to head to the Registry Office, I was about to get married and hadn't seen Sparkling Eyes for at least 24 hours. A tradition which we'd decided to follow.

We got in the cab, and I was just about managing to keep myself calm, the destination was given and I said I was about to get married. As you can see from the picture here, we were all done up looking good. Except for the fact I'd put on a few pounds in weight since the suit was fitted. BB's little bunny is in hand and essentially one of the most important things in the world.

The taxi driver went on to describe his wedding. It was a welcome distraction and an entertaining story. He had gone online and with his partner had decided to get married in Las Vegas. No family were going to be there, they had kind of eloped to do this. However, he was going to wear his full Scottish outfit, i.e. Kilt and accessories. Now what many may not know is the kilt besides being a traditional costume for the Scottish man is made of pretty heavy material. It's made to keep you warm, and just to think about it Scotland can get cold. When he checked the internet he found a nice chapel in which to get married. On the day he got in his limo and they headed to the destination. The limo was air conditioned, the ride to the chapel started off pretty good. However, at some point the limo turned into a different neighbourhood, one which was much less glitzy then where he'd been staying. At this point a little apprehension crept in. Were they going the right direction, yes the driver knew where he was heading. In a moment he was there there were big walls and a very large automatic gate. It opened and let them in. This chapel was close to a prison, the walls were tall and high so if any prisoners did manage to escape they'd not get in. Mind you could also say it would of been a little difficult for the groom to get out and escape as well. The chapel was as advertised. It was beautiful, the Elvis look a like wasn't going to be ministering the wedding but he'd be around and was allowed to be in the background of one of their photos. It was July, the temperature was through the roof and our taxi driver was in a heavy material of a kilt. Sweating heavily he was happily married, the wedding was about him and his partner and their commitment to each other. The lack of family and guests was because they wanted it personal and special. I got what he was saying.

We got into the beautiful large room, where the few guests were going to sit on the first two rows of seats. Old paintings were hung in the room, all the seats had a white stretchy seat cover on them. There was no mistaking this venue. One of our group was charged with setting up the music, she had the tracks on her phone and was going to Bluetooth them to the stereo. However at first couldn't get a connection and then had to download the app. It connected. We were sat there waiting for Sparkling to turn up. The music went on. I listened to the words as Sparkling had specifically chosen this and knew within a moment she would be walking down the aisle. I purposely didn't turn round because I wanted to actually see her for that moment after so many hours in her dress. One which I wasn't sure what it would look like. But she and the dress were perfect and so beautiful. It was purple. All I had to do now was keep a hold of myself and not break down to be a blabbering idiot overtaken by the emotions of the moment.

The registrar read out the words, we took our time, repeating what she said and within what seemed like the blink of an eye were married. Dam I love my wife. Sparkling kept her cool, apparently she'd doubled dosed up on her prescribed calming medication and also at some point downed gin. Now it it was gin I'd drank then I would of been in floods of tears and happiness. I can't help myself so much with these emotions nowadays, they just seem to stream out.

I got married, and walked with Mary Poppins on Halloween

Well it happened, after many years I got married to Sparkling Eyes, it was a registry office do on the 19th October 2019. She's the most beautiful and perfect woman there could be in my world, not because she tells me nobody else would have me, but because I love her ridiculously. And in order to solidify our relationship a lot more Sparkling Eyes has put up with my farting, hugging and loving her since. It will be a three and a half week period of her company before I head off back to the Old Smokey and return to work and a different life. Now  a ring is on my finger. The finger hasn't gone blue with cut off blood circulation, and there may well have been moments when it had to be removed so the washing up could be done, but now it is quite nicely settled and the start of a distinctive ring finger mark is imprinting itself. This three and a half week period of wedding bliss is wonderful, this here is my woman, I'm here man and now I have a legitimate claim of a wonderful beautiful family who have been discussed many a time during these blogs. Though they've been infrequent of late. I'll do my best to write a few more blogs and maybe refresh my picture on the profile. Perhaps the biggest problem has been too much time spent keeping up with social media and the BREXIT crisis. Oh for a little bit of humour to brighten the day.

This period (just married time) is otherwise going to be referred to as the long hug, because the most magical thing in the world is a hug and there's been lots of them happening. Even an old geezer in his late 50s enjoys a hug from his new wifey, and enjoys the company of a wonderful family.

Last night was Halloween, little Princess J all 6 years of age dressed up as Mary Poppins and insisted she be taken around the houses in order to fill up her felt bucket with sweets. It is probably a time of year where the dentist gets a little excited or depressed, depending very much on the dentist as he sees his younger customers turn up to get their mouths checked. It didn't matter much to Princess J for she likes sweets and doesn't think about small things like visiting the man in a white coat who can inflict bouts of pain with a little prod here or there.

So we knocked on a number of doors, the vast majority were not opened and at the start of our trek it got to feeling my little Princess wasn't going to get much in the way of treats. After a few houses we went to a tenement block. These have about 8 flats in them and require walking up flights of stairs rather than through front gardens and knocking at doors. When in the tenement block it is hard to tell if anyone is in the property as there are no front windows with lights, just a small stair well and a door, usually solid with a number or letter and a peep hole. The first door Princess knocked at and there was no reply. She then turned around took a few steps to the other side of the stairwell and knocked on a second door. We waited. it seemed quiet but then there was a noise behind the door. It opened and out wafted a plume of cannabis smoke, pungent but of course calm and chilled. A young woman disappeared back into the flat and came out with a plastic pumpkin, she knelt down to the same height as Princess J and took a handful of sweets to drop them in our little Princess's bag. We thanked them. And so this first success led and inspired us onwards to knock on another two or three dozen doors to which various sweets and chocolates were put in to the mini Mary Poppins' bag.

There were lots of ghouls, skeletons and various other scary creatures out that night, but only a single mini Mary Poppins, the one, who's hand I held and watched over as she ran up to the doors to give them a gentle tap. When we returned to the house she was so excited and happy. But the celebrations were not over. For of all things she wanted to do it was to bob apples. This was a must. Now I'm not particularly happy with bobbin my head in a bucket to fish out an apple, the thought of cold water and getting it up my nose while half drowning just doesn't float my boat. Funnily enough neither did

it seem to work for Sparkling Eyes or Rock Chick, both had expressed they were not going to do it and both had said it was Pops duty to do. Bloody ell. Mary hadn't forgotten about it, the knocking on doors and bucket of sweets hadn't worked as an amnesiac. Sparkling went and got a large plastic container and filled it with water, Rock Chick found some apples and dropped two in the water. Mary Poppins took first go and within a few seconds had came back up with her apple. It took her no time at all. Being suspicious I asked her to keep an eye on Sparkling and Rock and said they were not allowed to push my head down. The bucket was on the floor, hesitantly my head went down, someone was pushing or holding it into the water. Up I came to laughter of Sparkling and Rock, complaining they should not hold me down and again saying to Mary don't let them drown your Pops. This happened about 4 times each time I came up the girls were laughing and I had a strong suspicion Mary Poppin joined in, Pops didn't drown and though mildly unpleasant had a wonderful time as well.

Moral of story, even a married man might have to face attempted drowning by his most loved wife, but it will be OK.

An expectant visit from the Tooth Fairy

Princess J is now five years old, and her first milk tooth is about to be lost. I know this as she keeps saying her tooth is wobbling. As she presses her tongue up against a tooth to the front there’s a slight give. Not a lot but enough to say sayonara tooth it’s about to drop out any minute, but it will do. Then Princess J starts to talk about the Tooth fairy, how she can’t wait for her tooth to drop out so she can  

put it under her pillow and then get money for it. Because an exchange of money would be fair, especially when the fairy puts it there, for the real excitement is about the tooth fairy, because apparently a window has to be left open as well, otherwise she won’t be able to fly in. The tooth gets pushed again this time with a finger and Princess J says “would you like to feel it?” Of course it is compulsory to feel said tooth and see if it does move. So I do, the movement is so slight as to be debatable whether it is actually moving or not.

Being five and losing a milk tooth seems a little early to me, but to Princess J it is an exciting event. In the back of my mind I’m wishing it was not such an exciting event as my little Princess is growing up, it’s one of those markers. Maybe she will not want me to play with her so much or not want to beat me up. No, she’s five I got a couple of more years. Then there’s the issue of wanting to believe in a non-existent entity. How can I enquire what is going on in this little one’s mind.

So I ask Princess if she has seen the Tooth fairy and she says no she hasn’t. So I ask her what the Tooth fairy looks like and she’s like telling me the fairy is little. So I ask what about the Sugar Plum fairy and Princess J tells me there is no such thing as the Sugar Plum fairy and I should not be noising her up. OK I change tact. Then ask how about we try and trap the tooth fairy. At which Princess J’s eyes light up, the thought of catching a fairy I guess must have been just as exciting as photographing the Cottingly Fairies which sadly took in gullibility of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, of all people. I asked what we could do when we caught the Tooth fairy and her reply was to take all the fairy’s money and buy everything we needed. No doubt in her mind she was thinking about getting more sweets, and losing more teeth an ironic sense of logic. I then tried a little bit of bartering. Offering to buy Princess  No doubt there was some kind of logic somewhere which is segregated in her mind and applies to Tooth fairies, monsters and Santa. No matter how much I pressed Princess J on what the Tooth fairy looked like or some other rational question I was reprimanded and then told I wasn’t allowed to talk about the Tooth fairy. No doubt because imaginative little girls don’t like their view of the world challenged. In asking if Santa existed I also got an affirmative “yes.”  I then tried to see if Princess

J  would sell her and miss out on the fairy. So offered to give her five pounds for her tooth. But little Princess wasn’t having it. The tooth was for the Tooth fairy. We made pretend a trap for the tooth fairy. This minor detour lasted all of two minutes because it was all pretend. I wasn’t too sure what Princess J needed to buy, on account she’s given everything she needs all the time. Perhaps I should of asked her how the Tooth fairy could carry lots of money on account of her being so small. One thing for sure was Princess had an inclining of what money meant.

Well, at least we hadn’t gone into the subject of religion, it seems five year old princesses need to have imagination and a non-reality. Which at the moment doesn’t include non-existent gods. Well at least the Tooth fairy would inevitably evaporate as she doesn’t exist in adult belief systems. Well, most adults that is.

A used car sting, but this used car is going to stay around for a bit

It's been a few weeks since I bought my used car and now I've learnt an expensive lesson one which could have been avoided and nearly was, but nearly doesn't cut it. It should have been avoided. However, in the sense of learning and understanding I sure as hell have learnt a lot. For instance, don't trust a used car salesman, this should be stamped and tattooed into every buyers mind. If you're only spending out a few hundred quid, then it probably doesn't matter at all. If it's going to be in the thousands then buyer beware it is. As always the problem was heart and mind were in conflict and I bought without engaging the cogs as much as I should. The nearly part comes in because I had considered getting the car independently checked out by a mechanic. I'd even done some online checks to find organizations and people who would do this. The AA do it. It was the week before the booked test drive when all this had gone on in my mind. I really should have thought about it more, driven the car and said the salesman I'd like to get my own independent mechanics check of the vehicle. The issue of this was being a bit tight and thinking to myself it would be another £140 quid ontop of what I was already paying. They were subtle, unfortunately poor experience with cars and poor knowledge meant they were not picked up on. There is nothing like a novice idiot, a newby, someone without knowledge who is waiting to be screwed over. As I already know, the most powerful engine in a car is the one in the driver's head, if they don't use their brain it is nothing more than a chunk of metal driving at velocity and with little in the way of control.

It was the issue of control which made me get Lucy (car) checked out. She had three different sets of tyres on. This was one of those subtle hints, for the tyres were probably amongst the cheapest available. Car control in the wet was worrying for it just felt like it was aquaplaning. The more I think about it, why would someone just get the cheapest tyres available? The previous owner was a woman and she didn't drive the car much. It was likely just used as a run around. Her husband (I guess) was alright with keeping the car roadworthy but wasn't going to put his hand in his pocket to get premium goods. Except when it came to the service. For they had gone out of their way to get a very expensive service 8 months prior to part exchanging it. A service which was three times more costly than a normal service. Perhaps the problem is people who put their car in for service think the mechanics will give it a full check to see if it is mechanically sound as well. Maybe they think if there was something of concern then the mechanics would point it out and say "hey the thing over there needs replacing."  Certainly on a service which cost £400 when the normal costs should be in the region of £145. Then perhaps again at service Lucy was checked over and perhaps the then owner knew there were things which had to be replaced and repaired thinking it better to get rid of the car and buy another. It makes me a bit mad, not absolutely crazy mad, just a bit mad, because the faults lay with me, the seller and with the previous owner. Primarily me because I shouldn't have bought the bloody thing, or rather wouldn't have bought the bloody thing. Mind, here a little emotional attachment comes in. For I do actually like to drive Lucy. It is an experience I enjoy. An experience which has now cost me an additional £1100 in repair costs.

So, I contacted National Tyres and spoke to the local branch, my question stemmed on whether to fit wider tyres on the car than it already had. The simple reply was no, the young man on the phone seemed to know his stuff and said he'd previously worked for Fiat, the maker of my car. Now even though the car's manual indicated it would take a further 10 mm width than the one's already on there his view was to stick with the same width because the tyres could mushroom, which I took to mean bow out to the sides if they didn't correctly fit the rims. Shortly after I ordered four premium grade all season all weather tyres, it might be summer here but in the instances when it rained the current tyres felt slippery. The new ones would make all the difference. National Tyres ran me up a day after the internet order and I spoke to the same chap I'd previously spoken to, it was then I also asked if he could check out the breaks. It wouldn't cost any more.which was good news.

I took a day off, delivered the car and then went off for a walk and a coffee waiting on a call back in an hour or so. It was the phone call back that came as a bit of a shock. He said he had checked the breaks but while at it also checked other parts of the car. The exhaust was rusted and needed replacing, the back passenger side break only had one millimetre of wear left and had to be replaced, the rear shocks were leaking fluid and cracked. On tallying up the cost of this he quoted £1300. My reaction was to swear in shock and say the show room had given the car a check over telling me the breaks were good for another 12,000 miles. They'd also done their own pre-inspection prior to letting it leave the show room. An expection which couldn't of been much cop. I know now I will not buy my next car from there which was going to be my future plan. I know now this car will have to last a minimum of two years before I get my next. I also know I am skint. After my shock at the initial start of the conversation, I was offered a discount and so £200 was knocked of the price of the repairs. the new tyres which were already bough cost in excess of £300. So taking a day off work, getting the car sorted and up to scratch had totaled in an additional cost of £1400. This is just over half the value of the car when I bought it. So lets look at the costs so far:

£2700 purchase of car
£1000 fully comprehensive insurance and one year break down cover
  £300 new tyres
£1100 repairs, new rear shocks, new exhaust new breaks front and back.
£5500 Total costs

The handling now of Lucy is quite a bid different than it used to be. I no longer have to depress the brake pedal all the way down for it to stop. The steering feels stiffer, which is odd but is probably a good thing, I put this down to the new tyres and the fact they now actually have substantially more hold. The old tyres did have a lot of grip left, between 7 mm and 4 mm, but they were economy class. For some reason the back of the car seat feels higher up, this must be related to the rear shocks which have probably raised the rear end making the seat support my back more. Previously the seat felt low but now it does feel a little higher and a little better. Lastly the hand break also feels stiffer and like the break pedal which only needs a small amount of pressure before I can feel the car slow down now the hand break becomes stiff and engaged after pulling it up no more than about three inches. Before it was a matter of yanking the thing as high as I could to be sure it had engaged.

In parking on a hill I was advised the car should be put in either reverse gear or first gear. The young man I spoke to said he knew the break would hold but it was best to keep it in gear when on a hill. This advise is something I will take to heart and change my parking/driving preference. After I collected Lucy I had a migraine, it had began in the morning even before the events of the day took place and as the day went on it go worse, it has nearly lifted now. I would say about 36 hours of head pain.

I have learnt a hell of a lot from this experience and I know from this there is a lot to driving and knowing cars than I could have ever considered before. When I learn things like this on my own, then the lesson is tougher, but it sure sticks as well. Now me and Lucy are engaged, I better not let Sparkling Eyes know she'll kill me.

 

Learning to be a driver with Lucy

About 27 years ago I owned a mini, having bought it from a car auction. Unfortunately it was a bad experience after a matter one just one week things began to go wrong. The steering suddenly became pretty loose, then the clutch went and after having some work done on it pushing the clutch down was like kicking a medicine ball. In an attempt to try and find out what else was wrong with the thing I managed to get a friend of a friend to see if it would pass an MOT. After which I was then told the rear suspension had also gone. The only thing I could do then was to have the car towed back home. After a short while I returned it to the car auction and of course this was a loss 50% of it's value had been lost and my thoughts were there really was no need for me to have a car any further. I could get a bus to work and the thing just seemed to be a money pit. It made good financial sense, my foray into the world of personal mobility was not more.

This event meant there was no real opportunity for me to gain driving experience. Proudly I had passed my test first time and there had not been many people I'd heard of who managed this, but not actually driving really meant I had never been a driver. It is I believe a skill which takes time to learn and a certain awareness. Understanding the road, your car and the rules of the road, not forgetting there are also many drivers who also pretty poor. They will do things which are inappropriate but get away with them. I have now bought my own car and am practising driving, doing my best to understand the car and to improve my skills, there is a mixture of apprehension, fear and excitement as well as a good feeling which comes about by just driving and enjoying it. I do have to concentrate a lot while driving but I also do find it is something I like to do.

The initial fear has been getting into the car on my own, I have no one to guide me and have not considered asking work colleagues. Most days I do get in and do have a drive, even if the drive is a short one of only a couple of miles. But in my mind it is a necessity I must get out and do it. After all what is the use of having a car which is doing nothing but getting dusty in the garage. It's cost a lot of money and more than a third of the cost has gone on insurance. A ridiculous amount but is understandable, there is a greater risk for a driver who has no driving years under the belt.

Learning the ABC of getting around is slow, so for the time being I keep to as many local roads as possible, stretching the boundary of my known area gradually. Not knowing where to go is a pain.  It is bad enough driving but trying to recognise the roads and directions after hours on google maps is just as difficult. The matter of confidence is not just one of driving skills it is also one of knowledge. As a consequence I've spent hours looking at satnavs on youtube and have been reading up reviews. Yet also having a satnav in the car and following it's directions would no doubt be another skill to learn. Further roads today are a lot different from roads so long ago. There appear to be many more traffic rules than there used to be, many more speed restrictions and certainly a load more humps in the road. In the first week I may well have broken a couple of speed limits and could of been captured on camera, but so far there have been no brown envelopes in the door. I wonder if it is a matter of time before they turn up as perhaps the car has not been registered yet by the DVLC and the postman is presently holding on to them. We'll see, for it is not only a tomtom I've been checking out in my spare time. Camera laser detectors as well.

So about three weeks have passed. My car who I now refer to as Lucy is beautiful, she might be a few years old but she is beautiful in my eyes. She is a fiat grande punto eleganza and gets whistled at every time I see her.

Big Brother 1017 - Joe the prick

Every word that comes from Joes mouth is of an uneducated moron, a man in his late 50s who has a problem speaking the English language and you can't help but wonder if this guy bothered to attend school when he was growing up. Joe is only a slightly older than me, but his demeanng behaviour towards Rebecca telling her she irritated him, but not saying he didn't like her is the behaviour of a complete and utter dick head.It seems there is a consensus on Joe being as thick as two short planks for even the Sun newspaper calls him a moron. Which is pretty ironic as the Sun is for right wing racist bigotted morons anyway. Joe no doubt is one of their readers. In this episode we saw Rebecca accept the bait and rage against Joe, quite rightly as well, if however she'd had a few more years of age she might of come up with a humours and biting backlash. She was taken by surprise by Joe's frankness. But what can you expect from a moron who really should not of been on BB 2017 in the first place anyway.

What Rebecca has is intelligence, and youth being on the better side of her 30s. She is a self made business woman and in her outburst she also chastised her best buddy Keiron. He didn't go to her defence or support her when he should of. I felt sorry for Rebecca because all she really needed was someone to listen to her, and let her get those negative emotions off her chest. Further she needed someone to call Joe a fucking Prick. Joe sat quietly while Rebecca was losing it. It was the mark of someone who was just thinking, in his case this is a difficult thing to do but he most likely was thinking. His only reaction was when Rebecca asked how he would feel about it if someone said what he said to his daughter. This was a valid response, it was a challenge and in effect a reflection on Joe to try and understand what he just did. Given Joe is now included in the next set of eviciton nominees this week is going to be an exciting one. Rebecca I hope stays, while Joe has got to go. After all he is a complete prick.