Thursday, 27 October 2011
You would think that I had so much time on my hands since redundancy and finishing my Degree that I would be blogging all day, everyday. Wrong. Though I've no idea why. Pregnancy might have something to do with it. Pregnancy, for me at least, has meant muchas sleepiness. So lots of time is spent horizontal right now. May as well enjoy whilst I can. When the little one comes, we prob won't get any.
To add a little structure to my days - I have created a to do list. This also ensures that I actually remember to do things. It seems that my memory is much worse than it was before I got pregnant. A well-known side-effect apparently. There is something quite satisfying about a to do list (as sad and anal as that sounds). You feel that you have achieved something, even if your to do list just says stuff like check your bank balance.
Totally unrelated but I do love that Colman's gravy advert - I like the way you moo. Blooming hilarious.
Tuesday, 13 September 2011
If your vision is powerful enough, you will see the numbers 57 and 27 in the code. Both Biffy songs from the wonderful album Blackened Sky. Interestingly enough, I just spotted that 27 is listed as 3:27 seconds long on Wikipedia. Coincidence?
I was just emailing someone to find out whether their washable wipes were made in the UK and behold, I received a security verification. Not very exciting in itself. Yet the code in question encompassed two, yes two Biffy Clyro songs. An unlikely happening, I hear you utter. No so, when one of your favourite bands is prone to unusual and numerical song titles.
The image below displays facts:
It would appear that I am nothing but a geek.
Whilst on the subject of Biffy - I rang my mobile phone provider yesterday and was serenaded with Many of horror. At least that was my momentary thought. Turned out to be the X Factor version. Same song, same music, different singer, different song title and nowhere near as good. Somehow X Factor treatment makes the song seem a little namby pamby. Words that you would not utter in relation to Biffy unless you said "Biffy they are not namby pamby". Plus side - Biffy re-charted with Many of horror, following the X Factor release.
Another thought - it is nice to know that when making ethical purchases for our baby-to-be (the washable wipes) that I can still dive into a little bit of rock music. Who said that mummys weren't rock and roll cool. Not me, that's for sure.
Tuesday, 30 August 2011
I wonder why it is that ladies that have already walked the long path towards motherhood often want to impart upon the fledgling pregnant lady a vast array of pregnancy horror stories? I'm sure it is generally done with the absolute best intentions but why oh why? Surely I'd be better off focusing on the nice bits like the moment you first hold your newborn child.
Lots of people have shared lovely, helpful things with me too and I am grateful for these but the bad bits? I don't want the bad bits. I don't want to hear that people have been sick right through their pregnancy or even to their 3rd trimester. I don't want to know that labour is the most painful thing ever - I know it will be but I don't need reminding (because I haven't forgotten, I give labour quite a lot of thought, in between wrapping a mask around my head so I can use the toilet and wash the dishes - a necessary task due to soapy, greasy smells lurking there).
I can't wait to meet my baby. I'm trundling along with the poo bits of pregnancy quite erm nicely. So please please please lovely mums of the world, keep the horror stories for Halloween and stop sharing with me.
Friday, 17 June 2011
Have I committed some crime against post-feminism or perhaps more accurately money-obsession? Each time I tell a Recruitment Agency that I want to work part-time, I'm received with negative-filled surprise - 'why do you want to work part-time' loosely translated, you do realise that part-time means less money. Another recruitment agent asked whether my husband would support me?! What kind of question is that. Perhaps designed to force me into full-time work just in case I offended each stage of the feminist movement.
At present I am without work. I intend to find work and earn enough to survive (just about) either with or without my husband. I'm quite capable of living a fairly frugal existence - my sense of achievement doesn't depend on how much money I've wasted in a department store, how many debts I've chalked up in clothes shops or how many hours I've spent receiving a massage (which is counterbalanced by how stressed I was prior to said massage due to amount of hours I work).
Assuming you can survive and expect to manage your own existence, surely the amount of hours you work should be your decision and yours alone. Surely a person shouldn't feel that they have committed some hideous crime against the social world just because they choose to seek a part-time role.
In our house, much like many other male - female couple mixed households, the majority of the domestic tasks fall to me. I've patriarchy to thank for that. I'm more fortunate than most, when my now husband worked less hours and I actually had a job, the tasks were roughly split down the middle (give or take a little in his favour) but now he works full-time and since I voluntarily waved goodbye to my job in the last round of local government shake-ups, all I do is fiddle with my Degree and carry out all the household tasks (including those that relate to the domestic side of part-time child care). No reward anticipated for juggling these, there are many that juggle a huge amount of daily tasks - working mums spring to mind here.
I actually think that life is meant for living not for rushing around like a blue arse fly, achieving much but simultaneously suffering from stress, constant headaches and putting your order in for a knackered and early grave.
Assuming you financially manage your own pathway through life, working less is a good thing and sod those who effin disagree with me. Next time a recruitment agency or indeed anyone else asks me why I want to work part-time I will either A: contravene my own anti-violence moral stance or B: produce a pre-prepared red card from my handbag or C: ask them why they want to know before offering an answer.
Tuesday, 5 April 2011
Friday, 11 March 2011
My sister has just had her second baby - Elinor Grace. She is rather lovely, just like her big (little) brother Aiden. My sister told me that upon seeing the moses basket in their front room, shortly after Elie's arrival home from hospital, Aiden asked - what's in the bag? He, at the tender age of nearly three had understandably confused a moses basket with a bag due to it's bag like handles. He couldn't see the contents of the bag, which was a who rather than a what as the moses basket bag contained his new baby sister. It is moments like these that make life absolutely wonderful.
What's in the bag has become something of a running joke in our house. We roll into much laughter at the mere mention of the words. I mentioned it front of Aiden the other day and being something of a genius for recognising the opportunity to make people laugh, starting roaming around the moses basket asking "hmmmm what's in here". It's like having a comedian for a nephew.
Love to Hayley, Gav, Aiden and Elie.
Monday, 28 February 2011
There was a man at the bus station the other day waving his arms around claiming to be god. He said, and I quote "I'm god, that's it". I suppose if he really was god, then that probably would be it. What else would he need. Lets face it, if you are going to have a mental illness then be god, don't bother with any half-measure angel types. Later that same day, whilst I was still waiting for my elusive bus, he came back with his mate chanting "I'm god, that's it" once again. His mate just looked slightly uncomfortable. If I was his mate, I would have either
A: disagreed and said "I'm the real god, yes I'm the real god, all those other god's are just imitating" or
B: Walked away from him very quickly.
Car drivers of the world start using buses, it's much more fun. It's like lesson in weird people every single time.
Tuesday, 22 February 2011
Please stop by and read my little story at Powder Room Graffiti. If you like it, just click the 'Great graffiti' button under the story. So far, not many people have clicked the lovely 'Great graffiti' button - so you might decide to click it because you feel very sorry for me.
I was very pleased with the story when I wrote it and reading it back just now, it amused me. I'm not sure how complimentary I should be about my own work but the story made me chuckle. Hopefully you will chuckle too.
Follow the link below to find the story -
Tuesday, 15 February 2011
Support Sucioperro (pronounced Soo-chee-o-perro) and pledge on their album and merchandise. They are donating part of their profits to charity so it's all good:
Watch and listen to them on the Kerrang website here:
Monday, 7 February 2011
I received an email from Amnesty International today which stated that the detainees, arrested by Egyptian security forces had been released and were all unharmed. Over 11,000 emails were sent to the Egyptian authorities in a few hours. This proves that collective voices can be heard and standing up for human rights does make a difference. You can see a screen-shot of the email below, just click on it to see it more clearly:
Saturday, 5 February 2011
Please please please take part in the Amnesty International action for the release of the Egyptian security force detainees. Amnesty reports that they are being held in an undisclosed location and may be at risk of torture. The detainees include Human Rights Activists, journalists and others.
Take part in the action by adding your name to an email through Amnesty International.
Human rights should be protected, always.
Wednesday, 26 January 2011
The job search is happening. It takes up a huge amount of time. So far the job search has been largely fruitless. I feel like a no hoper, an unwanted member of the community with absolutely no discernible skills to offer employers. This, of course, is not the case. I do have skills. Lots of skills. I can make tea, sing and erm do the housework. Kidding. I can do those things but I have a Degree, a Sociology Diploma, a HNC in business (gained long ago but the skills remain me with me), a NVQ 3 in Advice and Guidance and lastly but by no means leastly a Certificate in Computing and Information Technology (this included actual programming and creating web pages in HTML!).
Perhaps my qualifications are too wide. Maybe I should have stayed on one path. I don't know.
I have spent the last 5 years or so as an Information Officer in Local Government. It has been an interesting and, at times, challenging role. I have stood in front of teenagers and talked to them about childcare careers. An actual lesson plan. In front of actual teenagers. Scary. I have delivered workshops and presentations. I have created thematic maps. I have produced reports on the business benefits of social networking. I have managed projects. I have conducted meetings and delivered training. I have delivered complex advice in a simple formats. These things I have done. This job is ending, like many other public sector roles, my role will soon cease to exist.
There have been various other jobs before my current one. Some jobs have been admin based and others have been front of house reception work. Other posts have been marketing based. I have organised exhibitions and open days. I have liaised with suppliers. I have created a website from scratch by raw coding in HTML. I have compiled and written a company newsletter. I have used graphic packages. I have carried out vast casework. I have also done less interesting things like big photocopying, copy typing, database updating, data checking and so the more boring list goes on.
I once worked for BT's Directory Enquiries. When there was only way to get the number of a private residence. These days its all 118 118. I have worked for Britannia Building Society. I have received payment for parking fines and issued parking permits. I have taken calls on vast switchboards. I have spent days and days typing address labels. I have worked at Next during the Summer sale. I have travelled door to door with Avon catalogues. I have never been a papergirl. I did work for one day counting money for a security company but it was too depressing. None of the money was mine. I have worn a bear suit during which time, I had my tail pulled and feet stamped on. I wore the bear suit once to raise money for Comic Relief. I have even spent an hour of my free-time washing a bear suit and brushing it's fur. There is something very strange in large fury paws resting on your radiator and something stranger still in a large bear head sitting in your bath.
I write. By that I mean write for a sort of living. From home I produce articles for various places including Powder Room Graffiti and Constant Content. I get paid to do this. The pay won't buy me a mansion in the country. It might buy me a big bag of sweets. Fortunately I like sweets. I also write copy for a business partnership I share with my fiancée. I update web pages. I have created the odd poster using Adobe Photoshop and Illustrator. I have written company profiles. I have created keyword rich content. Mark and I don't get paid much for this either. Largely because some customers are a little reluctant to with their cash. Some customers though, pay happily and on time. I like those customers. We don't make a profit but we get by.
Despite all of these great things, I can't seem to find another job. The kind of job that you get paid a good salary for. I can't even find the kind that you get a shite salary for. Such as life I suppose.
It's very disheartening.
Perhaps I should simply invest lots of time into winning the lottery.
Wednesday, 19 January 2011
I think I may be intolerant to potato. Not definite but potatoes do seem to correlate with hideous stomach cramps. I have given up wheat, gluten and assumed, stupidly that I would be pain-free as a result. Wrong! I also assumed that it couldn't possibly be potatoes that was upsetting my stomach. I mean, potatoes are healthy aren't they? Wrong. It's something to do with the starch apparently. Lots of posts in various places about people with potato intolerance and it's starting to look like I'm one of the unfortunate ones.
Gutted - I love potato.
Tuesday, 4 January 2011
Have a little read of my wedding blog - http://leese-dixon-eco.blogspot.com.
These days I have very little time to write on here and it will prob get even less when I am in the swing of my final year at Uni and erm finalising wedding plans. I am now wondering why I am finishing at Uni in the same year that I am getting married? Am I mad? Must be. I am also searching for a new job, ideally within the writing field. At the same time, Mark and I are still trying to push Solar Chi Designs. He is also searching for a job. Hectic times.
Mark is due back at court in February for (what we hope will be) the final stages of his Contact Order for his son Reuben. We hope to have him every other weekend at our home. He represents himself at court to save money. Solicitors are massively expensive without Legal Aid. I think he is very brave. I try to help as much as I can but at court, it is all him.
Love, peace and pansies.
~Something visceral And beautifully wild Shimmering ripples Beginning inside Not just body Or even heart You sing the songs Th...
Sapiosexual, according to the Collins Dictionary online is “one who finds intelligence the most sexually attractive feature" and the &...
Today I have been thinking about the dawn. The transition between times. Where the tendrils of night hold onto the day. It is the long, rel...
Dancing: it's probably the most fun you can have on your own. Come, come now. Let's keep it clean. Much like Nicole Kidman in that ...
The dating site is the modern route to meet, date and fall in love. At least that's the theory. It also provides a gateway to romance c...
~Something visceral And beautifully wild Shimmering ripples Beginning inside Not just body Or even heart You sing the songs Th...