One of Those Days

You know when you just have of those days? It’s like the big guy upstairs has a certain quota of unlucky per person but instead of spreading it out you will get a whole pile in one day for his amusement!

So far today I have managed to oversleep, then as a result of being late I ran out of the house with neither a brolly nor a coat. Upon my arrival at the train station it had started to rain. Still hoping to catch my train, I was unsuccessful of course, I made a mad dash to the station. In the 500 metres there is to the cover of the platform the clouds managed to pour out an entire weeks worth of rain, needless to say I was soaked through. So there I was soaked and shivering, cowering in the stairwell waiting for the next train, peering at the information board through rain spotted and slightly misty glasses.

Once I make it to work I have to go straight into a meeting with no time for coffee or breakfast and proceed to feel weak with hunger the whole way through, I’m just glad no one asked me any questions because my brain just doesn’t function when I’m hungry! Finally falling out of the meeting I proceed to squelch around the office, first locating a hair clip to hold back my unruly fringe (thanks rains) then breakfast. Once I was no longer malnourished I then turned my attention to the wet areas south of my ankles, remembering that a colleague had a small heater under her desk I decided to retrieve it. After bumping my head and crawling under not one but two desks I finally wiggled it free, and set it up under my own desk to dry out my shoes and feet.

Some how during my escapade under the desks I had managed to cut my leg, and fearing the cleanliness of whatever sharp object habituates under a dusty piece of furniture I though it prudent to clean the wound. Now bearing in mind I was still half asleep and already feeling a little dopey I figured I would uses some antibacterial gel for my hands in the absence of any wipes. DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME! When I had finished jumping round pulling faces and breathing through my teeth, waiting for the pain to stop I reasoned that antibacterial gel was not supposed to go on open wounds, made a mental note.

The rest of the day has consisted of me banging my knee when I went to the toilet, dropping things, spilling my coffee, forgetting that I had put sugar in my coffee and having to drink it with two, breaking a nail, poking myself in the eye and falling over my own feet!

Anyone else think I should have taken a duvet day?

Still at least it is nearly the end, then I can go home and stay away from sharp objects until the day is over.

The Other Side of the Story - Blue Anchor

You know what I think is the most galling aspect of being let go? Not being able to have your say! I was recently let go of a pub I have worked in on and off since for the last five years and has been a big part of my life and the local community for as long as I can remember. I can name every landlord that has been in it during my lifetime, I have even worked for most of them. I know most of the regulars by sight if not by name, my family and friends drink there, and most importantly I care about what happens to the pub.

Most people my age grow up without a sense of community, it’s the times we live in, personally I feel like I have had community shoved down my throat during every meal and I think I am a better person for it! I believe I have the best of both worlds, I can go to work in the City and be anonymous but when I come home to my little village, with its little local pub, I get a sense of peace that is hard to describe to those who don’t know it. Some of the people I work with have lived in the big smoke their entire lives and have a real ‘London edge’ to them, this only proves to make me more grateful for living in a place where you can say good morning to a complete stranger and not receives an icy stare in response.

Now, having been a part of something for such a long time I find it particularly distasteful for an outsider to muscle in and tell me I don’t belong. It just makes my blood boil to hear stories that said stranger is running around telling people that this is “her pub” and that “she is the boss and people shouldn’t forget that”. Am I missing something? Correct me if I'm wrong but you wouldn’t have much of a trade if you continued to make your customers feel unwanted and unappreciated. That sort of you-can-like-it-or-lump-it attitude may be fine in a big city where you trade is different everyday but in a small country pub the locals and regulars have a say, well either they do or they will vote with their feet.

The Pub in question has been through a lot recently, the poor thing, one landlord leaving, a new set, then them leaving and then two sets of holding managers that leave a lot to be desired. All in the space of a year! Now no business will thrive with this much change but as long as they continue to do the basics i.e. serve beer, it will limp along, but no one ever stops to think of the staff. Every pub is run differently, this much I have learnt during my short years, everyone has their own style and how they want things to be done. As in every new job you get a probationary period to learn how to do things a certain way, but what if you are expected to just get on with it? New people, every other week but the staff is the same, desperately trying to please their new owners by learning as fast as they can how to do things their way.

Needless to say it didn’t work out for me, I was fired for doing something one way when she wanted it done another. Must have forgotten to power up my psychic powers that day as I didn’t quite manage to read her mind on that occasion. When I pleaded for another chance she informed me that this was “her licence” and basically that meant she could do what she pleased. Even when a valued customer implored on my behalf she retorted quite rudely that “she was the boss” and that “people should remember that”. Well my response to her is that she should remember that we have had four sets of Bosses this year alone and we aren’t the ones that are disposable.

As I started off by saying is that the most galling aspect of the whole situation is that while I am cast out in the cold she is sitting pretty inside her ivory tower, she is free to say whatever she want to deface my character and I cannot defend myself! Well, I'm afraid that just isn’t good enough! As ridiculous as it sounds I have been extremely upset by the whole situation, because you see it’s not just a job, I don’t do it for the money (although it is handy). I do it because I loved being part of something, and now that has been taken away from me, taken away by someone who doesn’t understand what that pile of bricks and mortar means.

So this is my way of fighting back! My way of getting my thoughts into the world and pushing back on those who would have me limp meekly away. This is my side of the story!

The Un-Dead in London

I realised the other day that I am a vampire. Yes, I am pale and partial to a nibble now and then, but that's not what I meant! I cannot enter a man's home uninvited, and like the mystical predator from ancient lore I am very particular about this. I have to be invited. I think this is some sort of reaction from the British politeness, manners and low self esteem, you do not enter someone else home without an invitation and I want to make sure you want me there.

So let me clear something up for you, 'You can stay if you want' is not an invitation, that is a statement that will always be met with the questions 'Do you want me to stay?', to which men always reply 'well I wouldn't have asked if I didn't.' Infuriating isn't it? But you didn't ask!! You made some vague reference to me staying if I had no one else to go or if I really wanted to, which puts me in league with a homeless person. Nice.

Let me let you in on a secret, if I stay... you. will. get. laid. Now, bearing that in mind I fell we can do better than 'You can stay if you want', how about please? It's a request on your part, you want to get some, we know it and you know it, so lets not beat around the bush. We have something you want, so the least you can do is put in your request. Would it really be so hard for you to say 'Would you like to stay over?' or even 'I would like you to stay' dare i say even a please?

I know you men are still labouring under the illusion that you need to treat them mean to keep them keen but let me point something out to the vast majority of you, blowing hot and cold is all very good, I am the first to admit it works, but the catch is when you are hot you need to be nice. Acting like you don't give a shit to our faces only pisses us off! The whole point is to treat us so nice that when you don't call for three weeks we are desperate for you to, then when you do we jump like a trained Chihuahua. If you act like you don't care, then don't call all we are going to think is what a prick and move on.

I speak from experience, I have fallen prey to it many a time, relationship games, don't you just love them! Actually no, I hate them, and have so far managed to avoid them (I almost fell off my chair when he called at the time he said he would.) So let's consider another thought, he's acting laid back because, shock of all shock, he’s a laid back guy. Which is fine, in my hectic, about to be turned upside-down life, a bit of nonchalance is welcome, we just need to work on the particulars.

Me = Vampire

All together now, 'Will you stay over, please?'

Of course, I will, in fact I would be delighted! Now I feel welcome and wanted, everyone's happy.

How far are you willing to let it go?

Everyone I know has a job, and with jobs come colleagues. Colleagues are an odd thing when you think about it, you spend more time with them than anyone else, they see you at your best and at your worst, and yet they aren't your friends. They are not people you choose to spend time with, you may not even like them very much, but you are forced into this situation of almost cohabitation during work hours. They are not friends, they are not strangers they are somewhere on the middle.

So here's the thing, a colleague of mine is going through some crazy personal issues, they are emotionally in turmoil. Of this I am all aware having made them tea and listen to their tales of woe, and to their plight I am sympathetic. Being a good colleague I have soothed and listened, especially when they started being brought to task with their work. Ay there's the rub. Their level of work is beginning to be affected, and being aware of what he/she is going through, how far are you willing to let it go?

You have sympathised with him/her, and listened when she needed you to but now he/she is dropping the ball with things and it's affecting you and your work, what now? Should you continue to let is go and hope that when he/she feels better things will improve? In other words behave like a friend. Or haul their ass over the coals until they bucks their ideas up? Neither options are great, either you are a doormat or the office bitch, not a persona you want to wear during office hours.

So is there a happy medium? Is it possible to be both a caring colleague and a whistle blower? What if the behaviour persists? It's not going to get better by itself, so biding your time is out, but is the answer really adding fuel to the fire that is already burning? What if you can't help yourself? I pride myself on doing a good job, when I am at work, my head is at work, and unfortunately this person's seems to be somewhere else. Is it acceptable for someone to bring down the team, like a lame doe at the back of the herd, or should the fat be trimmed?

Maybe it's kinder, as pandering to their needs doesn't seem to have helped, maybe some tough love is in order. I guess the big question is when someone's capability is being called into question, should their personal hardships be taken into account? If you look at their work with an ice cold eye and it doesn't come up to scratch, if you asses their recent abilities and find that they are not capable, then surely there's your answer. As harsh as it sound but should we really be taking into account people's personal issues when we are look at their ability to do the job?

Simple questions, are they performing to the standard required? No, but their dog died/brother is sick/husband left them... Here's the tricky bit, how much of their personal life should you be taking into account? If they are unable to perform the job that they are contracted to do then they are not capable. So in a review of their capabilities, the answer is no.

Harsh but true. One can always hope, though, maybe they will get the message and leave their personal stuff at home when they come to work, or maybe getting the boot is what they need. Yes, one can always hope for a happy ending, but London life, I find, is not always like that.

First Impressions

I had an interesting debate the other day that got me to thinking about first impressions and snap judgments, more specifically, the initial attraction nor non attraction when meeting someone for the first time.

Scientists and Sociological experts tell us that we make decisions about people within the first ten seconds, it's all to do with hormones and body language. It seems we are essentially animals at heart and it’s all about the way we smell and react to each other. That aside, our brains are also furiously working away taking in the hair, the face, the body, the clothes and that's all before the opening line. I have a friend who can scan the room and decided within seconds if she is interested in anyone in it, she usually mentally discards the entire room based on their looks and appearance (she is stunning so she gets away with only dating the crème de la crème), the result is quick and efficient, no lengthy decision process, a once over and she has a definite yes or no and I don't think she has ever wavered from her original assessment. She used to say that looks and sexual attraction came first with her and if she didn't immediately fancy someone, and by fancy I mean someone she wouldn't be adverse to getting down and dirty with, then they would never be anymore than a friend to her. The personality and emotional feeling come second, it would seem. They had to be Hot first, then if they were nice/sweet/funny it was a bonus and she would then proceed entertain the idea of going out with them (again, she really is that beautiful).

The conversation I had the other day was pretty much along the same lines, he stated that in every relationship you had to find your partner physically attractive in order for it to work, and it would seem that this is another area where I am in the minority! I agree that there has to be an attraction, but why does it have to be physical? Instead of ten second, I usually give people about ten minutes, usually by then I can tell if I am kinda interested or not. Now don't get me wrong I am no saint, if a man repulses me then that's that, I'm not doing charity here. I have, although, often found myself noticing a guy has a great smile once I know that he is really funny, or thinking he has great hair if I know we have something in common. If a man is beautiful and strolls up and bores me to tears I won't be attracted to him, no matter how pretty he is. Where as if an average looking man makes me cry with laughter than I will probably be making him breakfast later...

So here lies my point is attraction purely physical? Is it possible to find yourself truly attracted to a person when you initial reacting to just his looks wasn't as positive as when you left? Does it have to be instant? Or should I be looking for that love at first sight, stomach flipping sensation because frankly, I'm not sure I believe in that. If by the end of an evening/date/meeting you think that you have met someone smart/funny/sexy should you be wary if you did not immediately think he was better looking than Brad Pitt? And what about if you've know them a long time? I can recall a gentleman that when I first met him thought he was nothing special, I even went so far as to think his reputation as a Love Lothario was largely exaggerated, needless to say my opinion changed, but the question is should it have? Say it had turned into a relationship (which it didn’t) would it have eventually become stale and boring because I wasn’t attracted to him in a purely physical manner? Or would it have been better as his Charm and Wit would continue to impress me even when his beer swilling habits gave him a gut and he could barely see his equipment let alone use it efficiently? Who knows!

One more thing, what if you’re no Angelina yourself? Should you still be holding out for Brad? Or should you have more realistic targets? If your willing to settle for nothing less than a Greek God, what happened when the God wants a Goddess and not a pasty HR Administrator, what then? Alcohol and a punctured condom? If it’s all the same with you, I will stick to my way; I may not get Zeus, thunder god of my bedroom, but at least I won’t have to worry about my straighteners shorting out.

Lilttle Lou

Lil Lou was a very good girl,
But her Daddy went away.
She cried but he would not come back
No matter what she'd say.

Lou's Mummy had a special friend
And he would often stay
She asked her mummy once at night
Did he drive her Pa away?

Her Daddy came in his big car
But not into the house.
Not even one foot would he step
While he was with his spouse.

So Daddy stood in the doorway
While mummy smoked a fag
I'm taking Lou, your self respect,
And I will take the Jag!

You'll get nothing you dirty Whore,
You did wrong to me first!
There's an elephant in the room,
And I will see him cursed!

An Elephant! said Little Lou!
In this very room?
We don't talk about it, do we Lou?
But we will very soon.

A special, secret, Elephant
That no one talks about.
An Elephant inside this room
That Lou would ferret out.

Is he Big and Blue and Shiny?
With a long and bendy trunk?
Or is he pink and small like me?
Asleep inside my bunk!

He's a secretive animal,
That everyone knows.
In fact, He is the worst kept pet,
Dressed up in sheepskin clothes!

Lou looked everywhere, high and low.
Even behind the stairs.
She couldn't find the elephant.
Not for all her cares.

It's not for you, her mother snapped.
Your Dad was being a fool.
And be careful what you say of this,
When you go back to school.

Next day, at school, when Lou was called
To talk of her weekend
She screwed her face to recall her plight
The loss of her new friend.

There's an Elephant, in the room
That no one talks about!
They say it's there, but I can't see it.
And It makes everyone shout!

It's hiding see, I don't know where,
But I can't let it roam!
You see with it lose, and running free
My Daddy won't come home!

Lou's Teacher called her Mum and Dad,
And told them what she'd said.
Your child here, is very confused,
These notions in her head!

The Nelly must have gone away,
Cause Lou's Pop came Home!
And no more talk of elephants,
Or sleepovers for mum!

London Lads vs. Brighton Boys

I was invited to stay at a friend’s house for an evening over the long weekend; she lives in Brighton, so obviously I jumped at the chance of an evening of fun and sun by the beach. So I turn up and we spend the rest of the afternoon catching up, reminiscing about our ill spent youths, where and what people are doing now, past and present relationships and the topic of sex might have come up once or twice as well.

Then, we went out for a night on the tiles, I was taken to a few bars and introduced to Tuaca - a Brighton shot that was quite yummy, and we ended up at a club called Coalition. After an hour or so of serious dancing my friend went out for a cigarette and while I waited for her to come back found myself being chatted up by a very cute Australian Guy. Shortly after my friend decided she had far too much to drink and should take herself home to bed, my new Australian friend requested that I stay, and he asked so nicely I decided that it would be rude not to! After a fun filled evening, night and early morning with the Australian I ended up back at his place. It was upon waking up at his very nice flat, being given some very nice coffee and repeating last nights performance on his very nice corner group sofa that I got to thinking I could get used to this. When he dropped me back off at my friends in his Porsche I really was converted.

It started me thinking about what I had gotten used dating in London and maybe the Boys of Brighton had the edge; the Australian being my second Brighton Boy I feel inclined to examine the evidence.

First we have the flats: nice, beach adjacent, clean properties that are spacious, well furnished and solely occupied. Compare this to cramped, cupboard sized flats, overlooking dank alleyways and usually with one or two flatmates included. Flats are more expensive in London, I know, and there is less space so everything is pocket sized for your convenience but I've got to admit when it comes to real estate the Brightonians have got it licked, who wants to bounce around the bedroom like a ball in a pinball machine when you can run laps in the living room?

Then we have the cars, both Brighton boys had beautiful, and expensive convertible type cars where as most London lads don't even drive. Granted you don't need to drive in London, in fact it is preferable not to, but being greeted with a Porsche when your boy toy offers you a lift home instead of a moped made me feel all warm inside - but then, maybe that was the heated seats.

Finally there is the image, and that almost indescribable cool factor. Now don't get me wrong, I like a man in a suit, and most London boys clean up very nicely, and on a daily basis too, but after a while I get the impression that they have become style robots, spending so much of their life in the grey suit that mentally they have become a grey suit. I also think that the high stress lifestyles has bred a strain nervous dispositions, terrified of losing their jobs and climbing career ladders with the hunger of that of a small country means that most London boys spend their time wired up to blow at any second. Much like a highly excitable puppy, cute in a nervous way, but one false move and it will pee on your carpet. In Brighton it was refreshing to be surrounded by calm, collected people who are so completely at home in their own skin you can't help feeling more relaxed yourself. There is self expression on every corner, be it clothing, tattoos, piercing or hair, creating diversity that one usually only sees at the pick and mix counter.

Now I feel I haven't been fair to my London Lads, they are responsible for a fair amount of my past shenanigans, it is not, after all, their fault, they have evolved from their environment. Like a wary traveller suddenly coming face to face with a bird of paradise after being used to sparrows, I was dazzled by the bright feathers of the Brighton Boys, but let's face it; I am at heart a London girl. I think if I was to fully convert to their Brighton way I would soon be exposed as a fraud, my cynicism and insecurities would crack through the shiny exterior. So maybe I should stick with what I know, I mean really, a little neurosis is healthy isn't it?