Monday, 22 December 2008

Secret Santa

It's funny these people you work with, you spend 8 hours (or more in some cases) a day with them and in most cases you don't know them as well as you should, in some cases you know them as much as you have to, and in some cases you know them a little too well. In spite of this they can still surprise you with something as simple as Secret Santa.

You can picture the scene; we were all crowded round one pod of desks with presents being tossed to their recipients, paper flying. There is the usual banter with one or two present causing amusement, and yes one person has made that trip to the novelty aisle in Anne Summers. We have swearing books, Simpson slippers and mini condoms, all being enjoyed (or hidden) by their grateful new owners; and then there's mine. A present not only on the mark, but scarily close to something I actually would have bought myself - a book. Not just any book, a book about creative writing!

Now being the introverted, antisocial person that I am, I am fairly sure that I have never mentioned that fact that I like to write things to anyone. I don't think I have ever talked about my blog, or about my poems or anything, this is just not a side to me I share at work. My colleagues only get part of me, they don't get my personal life, or my love life and they certainly don't get details of my hobbies and aspirations. So how did they know?

I'm telling you, it's killing me! I am utterly baffled that this person should know me so well, who are they? How did they figure it out? I can only assume that alcohol was involved somewhere as that is the only way they could have got through the chinks in my armour. Hmmm, don't worry. I have a lead! I was told this morning that the receptionist had already let someone use her wrapping paper, and my present came wrapped in that paper! Hecule Poirot eat your heart out! all I have to do is ask her tomorrow who borrowed the paper! Elementary my dear Watson! Yikes, now I'm mixing Sleuths, but you get the point.

So I guess my point is that you should never underestimate people, they may know you better than you think. A lesson learnt here today it seems - and to think I even moaned about organising the damn thing!

Wednesday, 10 December 2008

London Pace - Cont

I was having a conversation with my mother (yes her again) and she brought a few things to my attention with regards to the so called London Pace. First off, if London has a Pace, then Suburbia has a Saunter. By this I mean, the leisurely walk that people adopt when the hit cow country. The walk that says 'I have all the time in the world' the sort of walk that people adopt when they want people to know that if they wanted to they could stop and chat, if they wanted to. They could pop in for a coffee, they are in no rush to cross the road, there's no hurry, they have all the time in the world.

The London Pace is more of a half-skip-half-jog across the road and coffee to go sort of speed. It's most evident when I watch people in the morning, the commuters will rush to their car, open the door, throw their bag/purse into the passenger set, chip a small hole in which to see through and speed off with tyre squealing and a cloud of dust.

The Suburban Saunterer will exit the house, and ever so coolly meander up the drive to the car. They may examine the car, check for scratches, maybe rub off a smudge, they may even walk round to the passenger side in order to gently place their things onto the passenger seat. Then upon entering their car, which is preheated having been idling for five minutes, they will check all mirrors are just right before gently rolling out of the drive. The entire process is like a gigantic up yours to the people who have places to be, every movement is specially choreographed to say 'Hey, I'm in no hurry', and especially if they happen to be in the way of those who do have train to catch etc.

That's when they really come into their own, that person at the junction, waiting to pull into traffic, while you silently seething. YOU COULD HAVE FIT PARLIAMENT IN THAT GAP IT WAS SO BIG, but no, they are going to wait, wasn't quite big enough for them to get out, wouldn't' want to hold up traffic would we? No, we'll just create a queue of angry drivers all questioning how an idiot like yourself could have passed the driving test when you can't even get into traffic.

The second thing she mentioned was escalators, If you work in London you know what I am thinking; stand on the right, walk on the left - ignore this at your own peril! I Suburbia, people stand all over the place! They'll walk, lean, stand, wherever they damn well choose! So if you are in a hurry you can't walk up them without attempting an elaborate obstacle course! You see no one is in a hurry, they stand, and let the escalators transport them, and even they are slower! I'm sure of it! The escalators in my local shopping centres move at a glacial pace! So SLOW!!! Compared to the escalators in the tube station which are conveyor belts of doom, shipping you off at the end at such a speed that if you are not paying attention you could end up head first into the wall!

You see, It's not me! IT'S NOT ME! I'm telling you, it's a conspiracy, the world actually revolves slower outside of the city.

Wednesday, 3 December 2008

The Fridge

My Dad, the Messiah of the Easy Life, was faced with the decision about our new fridge. Our current fridge has broken but luckily it was still under warranty, they have provided us with a voucher to buy a new one.

The model we currently have is no longer produced.

Options are explained to him:

A) Get new fridge, it will not match the freezer.
B) Get new fridge and freezer, at an extra cost of £100, with the additional option of selling our current freezer.

His response:

Well, why can't we just get the same fridge?

Options are explained to him, again

I just don't understand this - followed by a huge sigh and eye rolling.

What is there not to understand? The thing is 5 years old, I don't have socks that old, let alone technology.

I'm going to call them.

I don't understand what good that will do but if you must.

An hour later, in outraged tone - They don't make the model anymore!

I'm fairly sure we already told you that. Did you think we were lying? An underhand scheme to obtain fridge domination, perhaps?

I can't believe they have stopped making that model!

Believe it. It's true. Move on.

So what do we do now?!

Options are explained to him again.

They told me before we could get the same model!

I'm sure they did and it had nothing to do with you misunderstanding. Move on.

What do you think we should do?

We have it narrowed down to two options. Options are explained to him again.

I can't believe we can't get the same fridge!

Your right, clearly this is some sort of fridge conspiracy.

So we have to get a different fridge?

That's right, we're making progress. Options are explained to him again.

Large Sigh, long suffering shrug and eye rolling. Shuffles out of room.


4 Hours later - Just do what you think is best.

Not quite a decision but at least he was involved in the decision making process. A process that he managed to slow down by an entire week.

FYI Fridge still leaking...

London Pace

It's a little know fact that in London there is actually only 45 seconds per minute, this basically means that in London we have to get done in 45 minutes what in other parts of the country would be done in an hour. This results in what I have come to call the London Pace. This is most obvious to tourists and all non-londonised people, it occurs mostly in highly populated areas where they will struggle to keep up. You see, in London travelling, talking and tempers are faster. As a result of this we often see tiny Japanese tourist being swept along by the sea of very busy people, all you can make out is a yellow, plastic covered arm bobbing along and a piping voice struggling to be heard "British Museum?!" Or if they have come over in a pack there will be a group of yellow covered, waterproof tourists gabbling away with upside maps, and the angry Londoners will be swarming round them casting dirty looks in anger at the precious second they have lost having to go around the group. Surely they should apply some common sense? If you were in a Spanish street and you know the bulls were coming you wouldn't stand in the middle clucking away, trying to figure out where you were going. If you did you would probably get run over! Why they don't apply the same logic here? They stop in the middle of the pavement, blocking the whole thing, forcing those of us who know where we are going to go round them!

We are a city of Tesco Express, and self service tills. Even the till operators will huff at you if you take too long to pay; Time is Money lady, they are silently thinking at you, get a move on I have a queue round the shop! We do it as well, when you are next in line and you see that old dear counting out the right change, or that woman who has the ridiculously small purse so they can only get out one coin at a time, and we rage. I will stand there, even if I have loads of time, thinking for f**ks sake! We have a Prêt on every corner because we don't want to walk that extra 100m!

We are a city of Now. Your hungry, your want a sandwich now. Not in ten minutes because the shop is all the way down the road, oh no the shop is there, you go in you get your sandwich, you pay quickly and efficiently and then your out. No browsing, no lets see, what shall I have. In, Out, Done. Your Boss wants a spreadsheet populated with data, when does he want it? Now. Not time for, oh I'll just make a coffee first, no way! Now. This email need to go out Today. Theses invoices have to be approved by this afternoon. That purchase order needs verifying in an hour. This decision needs to be made now. Now, Now, Now, Now, Now, Now!! As a result when you allow yourself ten minutes to get from A to B and a lost American Family hinder that by walking out in front of you, then stopping, we snap.

Firstly, I nearly tripped over your poorly disciplined son as he ran away from you. Secondly you and your wife do not need to spin around looking for street names nearly knocking people flying with your map holding elbows. And finally on what planet did you decide that walking backwards on a busy London Street was a good idea! So we do what any British person would do, we tut, roll our eyes and sneer at the offending person.

The funny part is us commuters are stuck between worlds, and only another commuter will understand. We work in London, so we work to the London Pace, but we don't live there. So when we come home we try to continue our London Pace. We'll be there speeding along the road, silently cursing the slow cars who get in our way, we dodge and weave through crowd when we walk places and for what? We get there bang on time or worse, early and have to wait. People look at us as if to say what's the hurry? I was talking to someone last night, and I presented an idea to them. ‘Ok great, we'll discuss it later, we have plenty of time.’ Noooooo! I wanted to scream! Why can't you make the decision now, then I could action my plan and mentally tick it off. I want to stamp a big ol' DONE across it in my mental To Do list. In suburb-land you can ask people question and it can take up to 5 minutes to get an answer. It’s like they have taken lessons from the Ents in the Lord of the Rings films. “Anything worth saying is worth taking a long time to say it.” I’m like, yes, but if it was worthwhile to say it and you said it fast you could say something else worthwhile and then you would be doubly productive in your worthwhile sayings! Cue blank faces and amused expressions. Sigh.

They never understand. Maybe one day when I have slowed down I can hire myself out as an interpreter between the two worlds. Bridge the gap between the London pace and everyone else. Till then I will just have to learn to take a big breath and be patient, it can’t be that hard.

Yeah, Right.

Tuesday, 4 November 2008

Money Matters

If you ever want an argument for money being the highest motivator there is, look at the commuters who work in London. That extra 5-10k that they get from working in the big smoke is worth all the hassle and hardship that commuting comes with. My mum has been doing it for nigh on 10 years! All for that extra clink in your pocket. Even though commuting is possibly the most tiring, stressful, and lengthy activity in the human world. Let's review the evidence shall we?

First there is the leg aching, stop-start journey, that is rush hour traffic. All those beautiful school runs with the mum's in their four by fours. I personally don't have anything against four wheel drive, I figure by the time global warming really kicks in I will be long gone, what I do have a problem with is mothers behind the wheel of a four wheel drive doing 40 mph when the limit is 60! Don't they understand that if there was a crash, they are in a high tech, safety tricked out, tank? Whereas I , in my clapped out, wibbly wobbly, mousketeer of a car would come of far worse, and I still think it is worth the risk going the speed limit, in order to get to work on time! Honestly you'd think they would want to get the kid to school quicker, if it was me I would be burning rubber before booting them out the car and tossing their lunches after them.

So after you have pea rolled your way to the station, you then have brave the station car park. Here, once a day, or once a month if your lucky, or once a year if your really lucky (depending on how long the waiting list is for a parking permit - Oh yes, there is a list) you get to pay through the noise for a small white lined box. A box which is so extortionately over priced because of the convenience and safety that your car will receive. Yet, I'm fairly sure I saw sign the other day saying that South-Eastern were not responsible to any damage done to your car while in the car park, and it still takes me 10 mins to get from the nosebleed section of the car park, all the way to the platform. So much for that idea then, more like you will pay this amount because we have bought up all the car parks in the area so you have no choice but to leave your car with us! Mwahahahaha!! It always amazes me, when I park before 7 in the morning, that I am still in the back 20, when I get to the front to exit I always look at that one car that is parked right next to the stairs and think, 'what time did you get here, 4 am?!'

So after you have successfully made it to the station, god forbid if it is that time of the month, by that I mean you need a new ticket. I have taken to getting mine at weekends now it is so awful. Queues out the door, literally, hundreds of commuters trying to buy that bit of cardboard that so rules our life. Have you ever seen a commuter with their ticket? They will put that away carefully in their bag before they do anything else, you can always tell the one's who have lost it before, they will put in in a special pocket of their bad then check it's still in there, before zipping it carefully shut. I have even seen a mother tuck her ticket carefully away before she looked to see if her child had got through the barriers ok!

On the train, if you are lucky you will be able to get squished between Halitosis Moses, and Never Shower Neville in seats which are only comfortable for children or the nutrition starved. Or, if you are unlucky you will get to stand and do that weird balancing act that everyone does trying to hold on, and read the paper at the same time. Ladies and Gentlemen for your delight and amusement, my next trick will be letting go of the hand rail, and successfully turning the page of my newspaper, all before the next corner! (Ooh! Ahh!) All this for half an hour before the train slowly grind to a halt and you hear "My apologies, we are just waiting for a platform to become available, then we will be arriving at London Wherever". So Close! You are so close you can nearly taste it, but no, instead you sit there, within walking distance, waiting for a platform. Not to mention to have to pay £2-£3000 a year for the priviledge

Once you get to the station, you then have to negotiate your way to the office. This is done one of three ways.

1) Step Right up to see London's deadliest weapon, the Bendy Bus! It Bends! It Curves! And it can take out pedestrians on the corners like no other!

2) Do you like inhaling car fumes and pollution? You do?! Well you've come to the right place! How about a nice brisk walk through London central, Mmm I can almost taste the disease infested air now!

3) Was that shirt clean on this morning? Not any more, you've been travelling on the Tube! Filthy, Sweaty and over crowded! You'll get squished into someone else arm pit all for a bargain price!

After all that, you finally get to work, probably exhausted, sweaty and pissed off. Then you get to spend the whole day knowing that you get to do it all again on the way home! Yet we do it, hell, I do it! Day in and Day out!

Ladies and Gentlemen...

...I give you, the power of financial motivation!

Sunday, 26 October 2008

The Accidental Fuck Buddy

I have always felt that women get the raw end of the deal in dating. There is this immense pressure to behave the right way in order not to scare off the object of our affection. You don't want to seem too keen, because you might scare them off, but too distant and they think you are not interested. You seem to need to create the impression that you are interested but you don't need them, you fancy them but you could get someone else if you needed to. Possibly the hardest balance to strike! As a result we are thrown into the world of rules, forced to keep track of things like whether or not he was the last person to text/e mail and whether you should call him or wait for him to call you? You met him on Friday so you have to wait till at least Sunday before you text him, unless of course he text's you in which case you wait an hour to reply and fabricate some reason for the delay. "Sorry It took me so Long to reply, I was busy being fabulous" or something to that nature. In reality if I like the bloke I have a tendency to watch my phone with beady eyes until it vibrates then do a little happy dance when it goes off.

So you can imagine my trepidation upon landing myself in this situation. Everyone has that guy, from their past, that guy who even though your lives have changed dramatically, still makes you go weak at the knees. For me it's Bad Timing Guy, even though there was an attraction growing up, it was always the wrong time, he had a girlfriend of I had a boyfriend, or something else. So, fast forward 3 years or so and we are all grown up now, and I get a friend request on Facebook (wonderful invention). Bit of chatting, bit of flirting and before I know it he’s at my door! One thing lead to another, after all reminiscing can be a huge aphrodisiac, all those memories and old feelings. I find it’s very easy to convince yourself you still feel something you felt before when confronted with the historic vassal of previous affections. But that wasn’t what this was about; BTG was still as hot as ever!

So here I am, having just wrinkled the sheets with BTG and unsure of what was going to happen next. Then he invite me to see his flat, and we all know what that means, so I go and the inevitable happens, c’est la vie, right? Then there is confusion, he thought. I would stay over, I didn’t want to assume so hadn’t brought anything, so I went home. So to cut a long story short we ended up, accidentally, chatting and fornicating, then I would go on my pretty little way. How did that happen? I mean in this day and age a girl can have sex without being branded a strumpet, but surely when you enlist to being a fuck buddy someone has to ask you first. It’s probably my own fault, I should have asked him what was going on, but I guess I didn’t want to be That Girl. You know, the needy girl, the ‘where is this going’ girl. The girl who want the label, so she can go trotting around town saying this is my boyfriend. It’s one of those rules that we women have to follow, don’t ask where things are going. You never ask a man to clarify what you mean to him for fear of him running for the hills.

Queue the soul searching, it’s fun. The sex is hot, he’s hot, and do I really need to know where this is going? Relax! I told myself, live life for now; don’t worry about where this is going, just enjoy what you have got. And what I got is a Lover, we chat about life, we have sex, we share music and our passions but all within his four walls. So I decided that it was enough for me, I could deal with that, maybe it would end up being, more, maybe not, but I was ok with not knowing.

Why should women need to put a label on everything, didn’t Samantha teach us anything? We can have men, we can have cake, and we can eat both! Viva le revalución!

One day he just stopped calling, oh well, never mind. The irony is I will never know why, because I never asked the question is the first place!

Thursday, 16 October 2008

A Poem I Have Always Loved

Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I do not die.

By Mary Elizabeth Frye

I have always loved this poem, I think it is so hopeful and comforting to people who have lost someone.

I often think about death, I do not mean to but it comes to me when I am lying in the dark waiting for sleep. I try to hard to believe that I will go to Heaven, I try not to think about the other place, in truth I guess I believe that I am a good enough person not to go to the other place. What scares me is, what if I am wrong, what if there is nothing? Nothing scares me most, the idea that when you die, that's it. Your mind, you consciousness will cease, you will not remember, you soul does not leave you earthly bound, just nothing.

Sometimes I think I can feel the passage of time, in the evening you think about a point in the day, and it's still close enough that you can remember clearly what you were doing, how you were feeling, but it's gone. That's Time. Hazy memories never have the same effect, but at 4:00 when you are wishing that day away, and then suddenly you are in your bed and you can quite clearly remember thinking, "when will this day end” but now you are thinking "it has."

These are the thoughts that plague me before is sleep, I tried to explain this to a friend of mine once, I don't think I did it very well, any way she didn't seem to understand, she did say that I had very Deep thoughts and that she didn't think about things like that. I wish I didn't think about those things either, maybe then I would be able to sleep!

Tuesday, 14 October 2008


1. little man syndrome
"Napolean complex" is already a term. The "little man syndrome" is less literate; unneccessary.

2. Little man syndrome
Condition whereby undersized men compensate for their smallness by physically asserting their presence.

That Puerto Rican just freaked on me when I stepped on his puma—he’s got a bad case of little man syndrome.

Courtesy of

I'm not sure I totally agree though, I don't think that men need to be short to have LMS. I have known short men who are perfectly ajdusted, I have also know very tall men who have a chip on their shoulder larger than most boulders.

Tuesday, 7 October 2008

Little Man Syndrone

During Life I daresay we will all meet men like them. Even Men will meet Men like them. You know what I'm talking about, the type of man who feels he need to prove himself, the type to shout down the competition, the one's who will pester you constantly in order to get the job done. Yes Ladies, I am talking about Little Man Syndrome. This is especially common in short men, in which case it can be identified immediately, or men with short equipment, which can be harder to spot. (insert obvious joke here)

Little Man Syndrome, or LMS, occurs in Men with little self esteem or a chip on their shoulder resulting in a number of symptoms. Firstly the inability to drink alcohol without starting fights with men much bigger than themselves. Picture an angry Jack Russell Terrier.

Another symptom is obnoxious behaviour. They become addicted to the sound of people laughing at their jokes and will strive to hear it as often as possible. This can result in bullying and mocking behaviour as their need spirals out of control. Like a Crack Addict they start off paying for their fix out of their own money but soon begin stealing from other people to feed their habit.

LMS is often caused my bullying in early life but can emerge with no recognisable source, some men are just born Dicks. I bring this up as it has come to my attention that a lot of LMS sufferers seem to choose Recruitment as their career paths. I believe that the egotistical nature of the job feeds their addiction to attention and self vindication. Unfortunately for me I have to work with these Losers.

As a result I am constantly pestered by their petty attention grabbing behaviour. Finally I understand what it was like for my Mother. Today for instance, I was being bothered incessantly by one such LMS sufferer, we have since determined the cause of his disorder was him be bullied at school for his auburn hair. He was wounded by me telling him that his candidate was already submitted by another agency, his insecurities skyrocketed and he spent 3 or 4 emails trying to convince me that this was my fault as he had rung me to find out if the candidate had been submitted, which he hadn't. True he does ring me occasionally with this line if inquiry but not on this occasion. I'm afraid that after he had piously told me that he did not in fact want conflict (Jack Russell Terrier) and that mistakes were made. Meaning my mistakes. To which I replied that if he indeed did not want conflict that he should stop bothering me.

Now you see the injustice of the situation is that my two colleagues, who thank god are free from the LMS disease, promptly roared with laughter and told me that I was not a subtle person but they knew what I meant. Unfortunately for me my Boss didn't find it so funny. He saw the email and rang me to tell me how badly I handled the situation. I could feel the old injustices bubbling up, the arguments about us being a Team and so fourth, so I'm afraid I may have been a little clipped. In fact I was practically glacial. This loss of temper has now landed me in another meeting tomorrow, with my Boss. Sigh.

When will I learn? LMS is a thing to be pitied and that there is no point fighting against it. As a gender, females have to rise above their immaturities and provide an example, we need to show stability so those that have hope, recover, and when they do come blinking and stumbling into the light we will be there to catch them and sooth their hurts. The only other option would be to round them all up into a cage marked DANGEROUS: WOEFULLY INEPT and only let them out once they have learnt their lesson, but I fear there would not be a cage big enough.

Monday, 6 October 2008

Getting into the Habit

It’s funny how you can get into the habit of doing things. Recently I have found that I have gotten into the habit of going shopping with my Mum, both clothes and food. This is never a good idea as I always come back having spent more money than I would have had I been alone! My dearest Mother, the woman who gave me life, who brought me into the world, who always says to me “Get it in every colour”…

That is the first part of the shopping extravaganza, the next part is when it get’s really interesting, next we go to Tesco’s! I know, my life is practically a movie it’s so exciting. So off we go to Tesco’s, and I do what any normal girl would do when put in that situation, I entertain myself as we go round. So if I am not throwing myself in front of the biscuits in slow motion shouting “noooo!” Then I am marching up and down the aisles with the new mop, humming to myself the Elephant song from the Jungle Book, occasionally pointing it at opposing vegetables and shouting “CHARGE!” while my mum rolls her eyes at me. Also, inevitably I end up picking up bits and pieces on the way round. I can’t seem to resist all the tiny little things that Tesco’s provide, it’s an act of restraint not to come our loaded with loot the way those clever store managers place all the tempting things around the place. So when we finally arrive at the till, mop intact, enemy’s defeated, I nearly always have to section off a little part of the conveyor belt to myself. My mother pointed this out to me the other day, and do you know what I had? Three DVD’s and a pot of olives. Sad or what? At my ages I should be buying condoms and vodka.

Mental Note: Next time buy condoms and Vodka.

Thursday, 2 October 2008

All this fuss over a sandwich?

Ok, picture this; your on your way to work, mentally going over the things you need to do during the day. I have to book this, file that, speak to such and such, you with me? As I am walking up the street I realise that (oh no!) I had run out or cereal the day before and had forgotten to put a new box in my bag. Now as we all know breakfast is the most important meal of the day, I decided to pop into a sandwich shop and get myself - bacon, white bread, brown sauce! Lovely. Now when aforementioned sandwich was purchased I spent the rest of the walk pondering on two things, 1) could I afford them luxury of a £4 breakfast? I am not earning loads and in my experience it's always the little extravagances that will haunt your overdraft. 2) A moment on the lips and all that...

Then it happens. All this fuss over a bacon sandwich?

I arrive at work to the usual goldfish experience, the head snap up as you arrive, gormless attention following you as you take your coat off put, down your bad. Then they see the sandwich.
"Where's ours!?"
"One call it would have took!"
Yeah one call and about £20, what do they think I am made of money? I though the £4 was a stretch.
"We are a Team!"
"Yeah, were a team," I retort, "Only when your hungry!"
Possible a mistake, a rash statement, but I was angry. Were we a Team yesterday when I got Tag Teamed by the Terrible Duo? Were we a Team yesterday when my work wasn't up to scratch? Where was the 'support' there?

Then, the icing on the cake, my boss says to me...

"Oi, Happy. You sitting in on this interview?"
I ask you, why would I want to take anything from a man that can behave like an obnoxious child? So I say no, I have other things to do. He then promptly throws his toy's out the pram, the way only he can, and tells She Who Cannot be Named that she can do the interview instead.

It's amazing the drama, two pieces of bread and some bacon can cause, and it's only 9:30...

Tuesday, 16 September 2008

Drama Queen

I am a Drama Queen.

I may shout,
And I may scream,
And take to heart
What you don’t mean.

But I will love
With no reprieve
And I will fight
But never leave.

Loud of voice,
I silently sigh.
A person, there ever
as unhappy as I?

People will stare
But they don't see,
Beneath the Crown,
They don't see me.

Tuesday, 9 September 2008

The Princess and the Paper Maker

Once Upon a Time, In a land far enough away for you not to notice it, there lived a young Admin Assistant, called Bubble. Her job was very boring but she didn’t mind, and she worked hard. She dreamed of one day growing up to become a Manager, and having her own Assistants alphabetise all her files!

However it would not be easy for young Bubble, the whole village was under the rule of the evil Princess Petal, and she did not like other little girls to be as important as her! Princess Petal was as wicked as a wasp and she had a long, razor sharp tongue which she used to slice up anything that got in her way.

On one occasion old Mrs Spots had saved and saved and saved until she was able to buy three cows. With three cows Mrs Spots was able to sell milk to the whole village and was all set to become very wealthy! Princess Petal did not want Mrs Spot to be as important as her so one night she snuck out of her castle and down to the barn. The using her razor sharp tongue she cut the ropes that tied up the cows and set them all free! Now Mrs Spots is poor and had to move back in with her son.

One day Bubbles boss, The Manager, came down to Bubbles desk. “Bubble” he said “I have seen how hard you work young lady and I want to give you a special project.” Bubble was very excited, a special project all her own! “I want you to go to the paper fair tomorrow and buy a Paper Maker. If you can get the Paper Maker then the company won’t have to buy paper every year and we can save the money.” The Manager took out of his pocket three gold coins and gave them to Bubble. “Don’t lose this money Bubble” He said “And if you are successful at the fair I will make you my Personal Assistant!”

Bubble skipped all the way home that afternoon. Imagine! Her, a Personal Assistant to The Manager! That was a pretty big deal to a girl like Bubble.

On the way home Bubble ran into her friend Sylvie. Sylvie worked as a maid, in the castle, for Princess Petal. “Hi Sylvie!” Said Bubble “You’ll never guess what! I’m going to the Paper Fair tomorrow!” But Sylvie didn’t look excited. “Oh Bubble” She said “Princess Petal has heard about the Manager’s deal with you and she is going to spoil it!” Bubble gasped, this was terrible news! “She plans to sneak down to the Paper Fair in the morning and break the Paper Maker with her razor sharp tongue!” cried Sylvie “I heard her telling her Parents about it when I was scrubbing the floor.” “Oh no!” though Bubble, what could she do? If she didn’t get the Paper Maker then she would never be The Managers Personal Assistant! “Don’t worry Sylvie, I’ll think of something” she said.

All night Bubble tossed and turned trying to think of a plan, how could she outsmart the Princess? She didn’t have a razor sharp tongue like Princess Petal, Bubble was too kind.

The next morning Bubble got up super early to get to the fair first, it was still dark as she snuck to the field it was held in to prepare her plan. The field was full of brightly coloured tents with people all over setting up their stalls. They were selling all different kinds of paper! Bubble was super impressed by it all! Lined paper and plain paper, big paper and little paper! Right at the Back Bubble saw the Paper Maker, all shiny in a bright blue tent. Bubble hurried to set up her plan!

Later on Princess Petal swaggered down to the fair, and even she was impressed by all the different types of paper! They even had sparkly paper! Everyone know that princess like anything that is sparkly! She walked though until she saw a bright blue tent that held the Paper Maker. “Ah Ha!” she thought. She hurried over and was about to use her razor sharp tongue to slice up the machine when she saw just below the machine was a small table and on the table was a cupcake, with pink, sparkly icing. Next to the cupcake was a sign that said “Free”.

Everyone knows that Princess Petal can’t resist free food but her parents had told her that she mustn’t eat so much as she couldn’t be a portly princess! She looked around her, there was no one looking, maybe if she just sneaked it quickly with her tongue, it was such a delicious looking cupcake.

Carefully Princess Petal slid her tongue over to the cupcake and wrapped it around the cupcake, but something was wrong, it was heavy and she couldn’t lift it! What was going on? It wasn’t a cupcake at all; it was a stone, painted as a cupcake! Before she could pull it back into her mouth Bubble has spring from her hiding place and held onto the tongue. Then quick as a flash she cut most of it off leaving Princess Petal with just a little tongue, like everyone else. “There!” Said Bubble “Now you can’t hurt anyone with your vicious tongue ever again!”

Princess Petal clapped hare hands over her mouth and ran off crying, back to the castle. Princess Petal never bothered anyone again; the village could live in peace.

Before long Bubble had become a Personal Assistant and her greatest joy was taking The Manager his tea in the morning. Sylvie had become the Head Housekeeper in the Castle; she always left the Princess’s room until last so that it had become extra dirty! Even Mrs Spots found her cows so she was able to move out of her son’s house and not bother him anymore! So you see things worked out for the best.

And they all lived as happily as expected…

Saturday, 6 September 2008

The Very First One

This is my first blog. I've never done one before so I'm sorry if it is not done right or is not the way it is supposed to be, but I stumbled across the idea of venting on a world wide basis, as in world wide web!

I kind of like the idea of publishing my thoughts on my life, it's weird, but if you can't talk to anyone in your life about something it's a lot easier to talk to everyone anonymously! It's not like I have any real problems, I'm not a drug addict or anything (read into my first thought as drug addict as you will) but I thought it would be kind of liberating to publish my thoughts to the world! Not that I think the world would care, but it would be amazing to put it out there, like 'here I am world, think what you want'!

So there we are. Liberating, don't you think?