I’m starting off this morning with a moan. O.K. no one likes listening to other people moaning – but look on it this way, you don’t have to. You’re reading about it instead or not if you miss a couple of paragraphs out altogether.

My Dad has just rung me at work to ask where his newspaper was. I’d forgotten it, he said. I hadn’t as it happens. Himself is off work this morning, he has his first appointment with the physiotherapist. He said he’d get the papers after he’d been to the garage to fill up his car with petrol. I would imagine that he was on his way back as we spoke.

That is just typical of my father. I’m 5 miles away from the shop, he can see the shop through the front room window as he’s speaking to me on the telephone. Would it really have hurt him to have just walked up the road and get them himself? If he didn’t feel up to walking he could have got in his car and drove up. All of this could have happened in the time it took to ring me. But he couldn’t just do that – oh, no, it was vitally important that I knew that he knew, that I’d not done it.

Of course all of this is because since Christmas I’ve started to put myself first on occasions. I’m not at his beck and call all of the time, he has to wait occasionally and emotional blackmail isn’t working. When I started going out for a drive over the weekend he tried everything to make me feel guilty for doing it. He even went to bed on one occasion saying he was too ill to sit in the chair. That would have had more of an affect if he hadn’t just polished off his Sunday dinner. He’s adapted to the idea now – but it cost me emotionally putting it in place. I really had to make myself follow it through and for ages I didn’t actually enjoy my afternoon out.

That probably paints him as selfish and in lots of ways he isn’t – he can we very thoughtful and generous when he thinks about it and I think that’s probably the heart of the problem. He doesn’t think. He has his own little routine and he doesn’t like it to differ in anyway.

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If Ikea and Tesco’s can’t get it right – what chance have I got?

http://www.wronglish.com/

Don’t ask me how I got to this site – no don’t. No, honestly, you don’t want to know. Oh O.K. then, you twisted my arm. Remember you did ask.

Anyone who reads my blog for any amount of time will have spotted that I have my own ideas on the English language, spelling and punctuation in particular. What can I say? – I’m unique, they broke the mould when they made me. Didn’t want to make that mistake again.

Just because I have my own slant on things doesn’t mean I’ve stopped trying to teach myself ‘the correct’ way. There are loads of sites out there that help you perfect the skills needed to write a story that others can not only read, but also understand. I’ve got quite good at searching for them – it was during one of those searches that I found the Wronglish site. Well you did ask and I didn't say it was interesting – it serves you right.

Of course that started me off surfing the net, any excuse not to finish that story. There are some very sad people out there.

http://www.pimpthatsnack.com


My personal favourite is: http://www.pimpthatsnack.com/project.php?projectID=302 Fancy the Easter bunny trying to carry that one. Poor thing, he’d end up with a hernia.

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I had a slight set back with my assertiveness at work yesterday afternoon. The FC asked me very nicely if I was going to attend the data meeting; he’d really appreciate my input. You now, the meeting that I’d been told not to worry about until I got some help. Well I gave in and went. What can I say; old habits die hard.

But on a plus side – I gave my opinion, they listened and made notes and I didn’t volunteer to find anything out or take any work away with me. Which is really good for me and most definitely an improvement – I had a nasty habit of being railroaded into things and ‘yes, I’ll do it’, used to just trip off my tongue. So all in all I think I did really well.

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And today’s photo was taken last night whilst out walking the dogs.

I had a déjà vu moment yesterday. I received an e-mail from a reader saying my website was off line. This time it wasn’t anything to do with me – I don’t ‘fiddle’ when I’m at work.

I checked a couple of other Tripod sites and they were working – which meant that it was just mine. Oh Gods, I’d been excommunicated again. I couldn’t even log into my account – it kept telling me that I no longer existed. That came as a bit of a shock – I had to pinch myself to be sure I was still here.

I wouldn’t say that Tripod is the easiest of sites to find the customer service helpline or e-mail, but I will say they are damn quick in getting back to you. OK, so it was an automated reply telling me they’d received my email and it had now been passed onto an engineer who would be looking into the problem as soon as possible. I’m glad I didn’t have to actually speak to anyone – they may have been embarrassed if they actually looked at my website.

I thought I’d be off line for at least the next couple of days, but no, I was up and running the same afternoon. So hats off to Tripod – Geocities could learn a thing or two from them.

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For the last couple of weeks Himself has been accusing youngest son of rifling through his sock drawer and leaving half of the contents over the floor. Son has categorically denied this, he got quite huffy about it in fact. Why doesn’t anyone listen to what he’s saying?

We found out who the real culprit was last night. It’s the cat. She opens the drawer with her paws and climbs inside, dispersing socks as she goes. She then gets comfy and goes to sleep.

I don’t think we’d have found out if Himself hadn’t shoved the socks back in and tried to shut the drawer. Unfortunately the cat got in the way and wasn’t best pleased at being squashed.

I had a really weird dream Saturday night. I don’t normally remember dreams but this one stuck in my mind when I woke up. I’d dreamt that I was by the sea, walking down the beach when I meet Himself. We were both teenagers again and I spent ages trying to convince him that we already knew each other and that we had been married in a previous life. It was surreal and I woke up feeling out of sorts. You know that feeling you get when you’re not sure whether it really happened. I think it must have been one too many bacardi’s at the party we went to on Saturday night.

We had a really nice time actually, the kids stopped the night so they didn’t have to drive home. It was a friend’s 40th Birthday Party and she had booked a live band. It was a little on the loud side, must be a sign of my age, but as the only table left when we arrived was one by the speakers that’s not altogether surprising. Good group though and once you’d had a few drinks and started dancing it didn’t seem to matter.

By that stage we’d already had a glitter fight (they’d decorated the table tops with glitter and sparkly '40s') and built a tower out of the empty party poppers. We know how to have a good time when we go out!

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Sunday morning was spent writing. I've now got four stories on the go - it would be really good if I could just finish one of them. Actually I have finished something. I've finished the introduced to the new series - I've just not finished the first story that goes with it.

Himself goes back to work today and things have eased up a bit at home so with a bit of luck I might get a bit more time to write. I can’t believe how tired I’ve been lately – it all seems to have caught up with me. All of last week I was coming in from work, eating my tea and then falling asleep for an hour on the sofa. Usually if I did that I’d not sleep at night, instead of which I’ve been sleeping like a log and still found it extremely difficult to get up the following morning.

Sunday's drive produced the following photos of St Mary & All Saints Church in Kidderminster. They've got some great gargoyles. I also noticed that the blossom has come out this weekend - soon be spring.

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Youngest stated last night that he needed a new pair of jeans because the others were too short in the leg. Which others? The others that I’d brought just before Christmas?

We had a run in over those jeans, he wouldn’t have the one pair because they were too long in the leg (please note that most of his other trousers drag along the floor) and heaven forbid that I turn then up temporary. When I suggested it you’d have thought I’d told him to walk around naked – I’m sure I’d have got pretty much the same reaction.

Anyway he’d settled for another pair which I didn't want to buy because I thought they didn't have enough growing room. And what had that got to do with anything? They looked good at that particular moment in time. I was right as it happens, although I really wouldn't have minded if he'd proved me wrong on this occasion, they now show his ankles.

He’s 17 at the end of March; I keep trying to convince myself that he can’t get that much taller. He keeps assuring me that he can - he will be taller than his brother, who’s currently 6ft 3 and is someone else that still appears to be still growing. I can’t help feeling that he’ll manage it as well, he can be bloody determined when he wants to be.

I’ve decided that Craig is a bad influence as well as certain other people. The accounts office is being redecorated and he’s working in my office at the moment. He arrived at work in a pissed off sort of mood and I felt it my duty to try and cheer him up. I’m a thoughtful sort of person.

We’ve been giving the impression all day that we are both working when in fact we have been:

Downloading music.
Eating chocolate.
Surfing the net - better remember to clear the history in explorer.
Playing Pool against each other on Yahoo.
Talking to each other on IM – if anyone looks though the door they can see us busily typing away.
And we’ve revamped the fish tank and brought the fish some new plants.


I wouldn’t say that I’ve not achieved anything work wise – I did attend a 2 hour meeting this morning, but that’s about it. His ‘I’m really not in the mood to work’ has rubbed off. I’m on strike – I’m just not actually telling anyone I’m on strike.

It’s not as if I haven’t got anything to do, quite the reverse and I should be feeling guilty I suppose. But I’ve decided that I’m viewing it as catch up on all the dinner hours I’ve worked over the past 13 years and not claimed for.

One of the things Craig found was:

Hello. This is Ed Byrne here. You know - the devastatingly handsome and side-splittingly funny Irish comedian. Your friend has been kind enough to pass on a message from me.

I'm on a crusade to make a massive dent in the British economy and I want to enlist your help. I've created ten stand-up comedy clips that I'd like you to watch instead of working - and I'd like to know exactly how much corporate cash they're going to waste. So I've built a calculator. It just takes two minutes of your time and it'll tell you precisely how much of your company's profits you'll be pouring down the drain. It's got to be better than pushing a pencil. You can see it at:

http://www.slack-o-meter.com

Many thanks for your help.
Cheers,
Ed Byrne

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Himself went to the doctors yesterday to make an appointment to see about being signed off as fit for light duties. The receptionist told him he didn’t need an appointment – he could just pick the note up after 3.00 p.m. today. Bloody good these receptionists – fancy them being able to tell that from just looking at him. At this rate we won’t need to see a doctor at all soon they’ll be able to deal with everything over the phone.

Dilys and I were chatting yesterday about our first jobs; I was a Filing Clerk at TNT Roadfreight and Dylis started work for the Inland Revenue in Swansea.

It was whilst we were talking about this that I recalled an incident that made me cringe at the time. I must have been 18 and I’d been promoted to POD (Proof of Delivery) Clerk. Now I was still quite shy back then so I didn’t find dealing with telephone enquires all that easy. Basically an irate customer would ring up demanding to know why his parcel hadn’t been delivered. I then had to check for a signature on a delivery note. Of course, 9 times out of 10 we didn’t have the delivery note back or if we did – it wouldn’t be signed.

The next stage would be ringing the delivery depot - a vast majority of the time I would end up speaking to a male - who would then check the delivery sheets to see if it had gone out with a driver. Of course in some cases they couldn’t find it ever reaching the depot to start with. That would mean a bay search – someone would go out and physically check the depot to see if it was there but without the paperwork or any delivery labels. To be honest 9 time out of 10 the goods had been delivered – it was just proving it.

Anyway, every depot had one to two major customers that sent parcels everyday. One of our customers was a company called Duraflex. At the time they produced mainly loft ladders, PVC doors and windows. We dealt with 5/6 non deliveries everyday and it was on the trace of a loft ladder that I nearly died of embarrassment.

I’d gone through the usual procedure and had been unable to track it down so I asked to be transferred to the bays so I could ask for a search to be carried out. I can even remember which depot I rang – the Ramsbottom one.

So I got put through and asked the foreman if he could do me a bay check for a missing parcel? No problem, he said, what was I looking for? A Duraflex ladder, I replied. There was a few seconds of silence on the other end followed by what sounded like a splutter that turned into a cough. He then seemed to pull himself together and said: Really? Did the company despatch many of these? Extending, were they? He then burst out laughing.

It was at that point I noticed my manager was doubled over and was nearly wetting himself. Slowly from the neck up,I felt myself start to turn red and I hastily slammed the phone down. I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me or failing that I’d have settled for a swift painless death.

You see, I haven’t actually asked him to look for a Duraflex ladder, I’d asked him to look for a Durex Ladder. I flatly refused to ring the depot back after that and my manager eventually took pity and took the enquiry off me. I was ribbed mercilessly for weeks afterwards. You grow up fast in that sort of environment.

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Whilst shopping last night I thought I’d have a quite look in the clothing department for a bra. As I’m not the greatest fan of shopping I find it really conventient that supermarkets now sell clothes. On top of that they are also fairly cheap and it means I don’t have to walk around town on a Saturday. Thumbs up all round as far as I'm concerned.

There was a good range of bras in my size – the only problem was they were all padded. Every single design. I’m a 40DD for God’s sakes, why the hell would I want a padded bra? I’ve enough padding of my own. As it is my burst appears around the corner before me.

I can only assume that they were all designed by men or jealous flat chested women because no woman with a burst my size would have thought ‘Oh, I know what will make that bra become a must have, I'll give it some padding’.

Unless of course it a European Safety Directive. All bras now must contain padding in case a woman with an ample burst turns around quickly and takes someone’s eye out.

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And today's picture is of the cat - who flatly refused to show any interest in the present I'd brought her from Poundland. I don't know why I bother.

There was a slight plip late last night when my web page went down due to technical difficulties. It was all Rudy’s fault. She is of course trying to deny it, but we all know better. I was talking to her on IM when she asked me to wait while she did something.

Not a problem. I decided that I’d change the picture on my profile on Blogger. This isn’t as straight forward as you may think – it needs to link to a website. So I saved the picture to a web page and hit publish on Tripod. Unfortunately while doing this I wiped out everything else. As in all gone, no longer there, the pages you are looking for no longer exist. Oops.

Thankfully Front Page is an unusual Microsoft product. It actually works for a start. I just needed to re-publish everything, which after my initial panic took about five minutes. So you can see why it was Roo’s fault – if she hadn’t made me wait I would never have tried to change the picture to start with.

And if Scally or should that be ‘Madam President’ makes any comments along the lines of ‘fiddling again’ – please ignore her. She’s just casting aspersions. You’ll have read her comments in the past and have worked out her trouble making capacities no doubt.

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And whilst I’m setting the record straight, I think I need to mention Cobweb. Although I’m not mentioning that name very loudly, O.K? No point in temping Fate. Fate probably knows her personally anyway and would no doubt drop me in it.

I think I may have inadvertently given the impression that she has been approachable, understanding, supportive and er..... kind, during the last week. I wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong impression and I most certainly do not want to take the blame for blemishing her reputation. I didn’t mean to – it’s not my fault.

And she was quite right when she mentioned to me yesterday to just look at what I could achieve when I was more scared of her than of my manager . In fact the Gods know why I’m even joking about this. I am more scared of her than I am my manager.

So please note, the ‘approach carefully’ is still firmly in place, especially if she appears to have something in her hand at the time. You should also be aware that she is still the same bossy, no nonsense, sharp tongued, domineering, fire breath dragon that she has always been.

And we wouldn’t want her any other way.

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And lastly, my assertiveness training has paid off. I placed an advert in the local paper yesterday for Admin Staff. Yes that’s right, as in more than one. It has been recognised that I cannot possibly cover everything that is expected of me. I actually went to work this morning without a feeling of dread. I’m still sticking to my guns mind – I need to continue learning to say No, I’m sorry, I can’t do that. I also need to stop running around and picking up after everyone. I'm actually finding that one more difficult to accomplish.

Craig and I decided to try a new experience yesterday. At this point there will be several people thinking some very bad thoughts. Yes, you know who you are. Shame on you. And I’m sorry to disappoint but the new experience was taking a lunch break. We went for a walk into town and on the way back made a new acquaintance, a lonely Swan. John in our workshop says he’s been around for the last twelve months but we’d never seen him, which isn’t all together surprising as we don’t usually stop for lunch.



Apparently he did originally have a mate but she disappeared. Now the myth states that swans pair for life, this isn’t actually true. In fact they are about as monogamous as humans; more than 50% end up with a different partner. So chances are nothing untoward happened to her she just got fed up with him or found a new model.

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And Rudy Roo has been a busy girl just lately and a clever one too. She started working with a computerised art problem – and believe me that isn’t as easy as you may think. It’s still the same process as normal painting, starting with a blank canvas but you control the brush with the aid of your computer mouse. In fact I think it’s harder. I couldn’t do it and I did try. She looks at a photograph and reproduce it to resemble a painting. As I previously said – a very clever lady.

So, dim the lights please, help yourself to wine and nibbles because the Iris Gallery is proud to present her first two master pieces.

The first is entitled Andalusian Horse.

And this as yet unnamed piece was produced for a friend of hers, a twist on a personal Avatar. The original photograph had light shining down on the kneeling woman; Rudy turned this into an image of a hand.

She has every right to be proud of both pictures, the time involved in producing these and the attention to detail is clear for all to see.

If you would like to chat with the artist after you have finished your wine, please feel free to email her: rudyroo92@yahoo.com Don't forget to tell her how clever she is!

Well done Roo.

We went for a walk in the Wyre Forest on Saturday afternoon. Himself noticed that they’d cut a fair few trees down and pointed out that one was just the right thickness for youngest to make a bow with.

With everything that’s been going on I haven’t mentioned that one. Youngest now thinks he’s the village’s equivalent to Robin Hood. He’s been trying to make his own long bow. Two failed attempts so far. It’s all the fault of Pete and his Woodcraft Talks that youngest has been going along to – Pete’s the sort of person you'd want to be around if you ever got marooned on a desert island . He could build you a two story house just using a piece of string, some branches and a pocket knife. It would come fully furnished as well. He’s given son ideas.

But I digress; Himself was under the impressed that we could take half a tree home with us. And who was going to drag said tree the two miles back to the car? Well not me for a start off. And what the hell would you say if you met someone on the way back? I’m just taking my tree for a walk, the fresh air will do it good? I think not. The tree stayed put. As it is, son keeps taking a walk across the common and thinning the copse out.

So we carried on and because it had been so wet lately the streams where higher than normal and bits of broken off branches had fallen into them. This didn’t stop Billy deciding on a paddle. He’s a funny dog; he won’t go out of his depth and certainly won’t swim but if he hears the sound of water flowing he makes a bee line for it. He got in and walked around as per usual; splash, splash.

I look a few photos and watch him walk along the stream towards the part that goes into a small tunnel that runs under the road. The penny dropped a second too late, for both me and Himself. Himself tried to reach down and grab the dog just as I screamed his name. We shouldn’t have bothered. Splash, splash, splash – Billy walks into the tunnel.

Oh my God, he was either going to get stuck or drown. Himself doesn’t panic like me - he just told me to listen. Yes, you could hear the splashes as he carried on walking, right the way though the tunnel which was about twenty yards long and out the other side. He’d have carried on walking to, if I hadn’t told him to get out.

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Yesterday we visited Broadfield House Glass Museum. One of the things with depression is that you stop going out – just leaving the house is a major issue. I made the decision when I got better that I would get out of the house at least once over the weekend, even when I didn't feel like it. I'd still make myself go somewhere even if it was just an hour. With Himself’s broken shoulder and the pittance that is Sick Pay this hasn't been the easiest thing to keep up.

I needed to find some very cheap places to visit. And it doesn’t come any cheaper than Free Admission. If you look around there are a fair few places that don’t charge – certainly in the Black Country. Not so much in Worcestershire, tight sods - but then Black Country people are renown for their generosity.

The Glass Museum is well worth a visit and I enjoyed a couple of hours marvelling the displays. Not Himself's cup of tea to be honest but he likes to see me happy. Or at least he pretends to.

And they support local artists too - if you can afford to buy that is.

First and foremost Hic Draconis have updated. Cobweb & Gnome have some new stories and if you do decided to read them for heavens sake drop them a line. Awful things will happen to you if you don’t.

And it's no use praying to the Gods for help; I think they know most of them personally. You've been warned.

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Most of last night was spent lying in bed looking at the ceiling and running through my mind the conversation that would take place when I spoke to my manager the following day. Crunch time. I knew what had taken place over the last couple of days would pale into insignificance.

I was due to attend a Risk Register meeting this morning. I also had to run a claim. Not enough hours in the day to do both so I was going to have to speak to her and offer her a choice. Attend the meeting or run the claim.

Upon arriving at work I tracked her down and informed her of the situation. Interesting response. She said that she thought I'd arranged an extra day with the college to run that claim. Well yes, but that was to sort out the mess from last month - the college had introduced new paperwork and hadn’t told us. The trainers had to back date the paperwork and I needed to resubmit the new forms and the claim again. Double the work load this time. That extra day was nothing to do with this month’s claim – which was still a days worth of work at least. On top of which we had a software company coming in and I had to attend that meeting in the afternoon. It was my area and my responsibility.

I couldn’t afford to spend three hours of the day in a meeting. The news wasn’t taken very well. In fact it went pretty much as I expected, almost word for word. She gave me 'the face', snapped that she knew I was busy but I'd known about the meeting, I should have prepared for this. I agreed that I had known but I'd had to sort the mess out from last month and everything had then got knocked back time wise. She then said that Simon, one of the Team Managers, had disappeared with the builders and wasn't attending and now I was trying to get out of it too. I patiently explained that I could attend the meeting but it would mean a drop in the amount we claimed. This was then followed with a simple, 'well don't bother then' & she stormed off in a huff. The next 10 minutes were spent with her walking around with a face like thunder until she went into the meeting. Totally pissed off and didn’t I know it, she made sure of that.

Thank God for e-mail and the fact it’s instant because without the support I’d have walked out. As it was I spent half an hour in the loo. It felt like history was repeating itself, the memories it invoked brought floods of tears. I felt physically sick and couldn’t stop shaking. The old manta I used to repeat in my mind when I was having a panic attack came back to me. I kept telling myself to take deep breaths, I was safe and no one was going to hurt me. Even when I had managed to calm myself down I still had to stay there. I didn’t want anyone to see I’d been crying. Sympathy wasn’t what I wanted or for anyone to think I was behaving like this because I was tired or over worked.

This was the demon I need to conquer, the final stage in getting my life back – and also the hardest for a number of reasons. My nature for a start. I have a reputation in places for arguing but in fact nothing could be further from the truth. I run a mile from confrontation normally. The fact that it was work that pushed me over the edge to start with, not just my old manager but my work load. 13 hour days were the norm and I wasn’t going to start that again even if it did mean things failed to get finished in time. I needed to make a stand. The fact that I needed to be physically and mentally well again to even consider facing it and the changes that I needed to make. I’d left addressing this to last for all of those reasons and also because I was scared; I was frightened that I wouldn’t be able to do it. That I wouldn’t have the strength to stand up for myself like I used to, to be able to fight my corner. I’d just panic and go to pieces.

As I explained in an e-mail today fear is often irrational. People are terrified of spiders – tiny little ones that can’t hurt them. They know that but they still can’t pick that spider up. Facing your fear and conquering it is hard and you really have to want to do it. So you have to reach that point by yourself, no one can help you get there – then the support you receive is what stops you backing down when the going gets tough.

The reassurance that you are not being unreasonable and that what you are experiencing isn’t irrationally or that your feelings are out of all proportion to the situation. That you aren’t being unfair or difficult or down right ockerd.

The support I've been given has been a life line over the past few days and I couldn't begin to express how grateful I am to all three of them, Scally, Cobweb & Chris. Saying thank you doesn't seem enough. I've turned instantly to them whenever anything happens. I replied on them being there and they have been. It's been an unwavering and constant reasurruring message they've sent. Today especially I held onto it for dear life and it gave me the determination not to back down against the emotional blackmail.

To end on a funnier note, I’m not sure if my manager had spoken to the Financial Controller (FC*) because at lunch time she did ask me if I wanted a sandwich as she was popping into town. I’ve come to the conclusion that they all think I’m ill and that I’m in need of hot drinks and food. You'd really think they'd know me better by now – no one so far has offered me any chocolate what so ever.

(*FC - According to Scally could stand for Fekking Creep.)

What was it that Wolfie Smith used to say – ‘come the day of the revolution?’ Well there is more than one way to revolt. In fact if you do it quietly the buggers don't know what's hit them.

Yesterday was most definitely ‘a step in the right direction’ sort of day. I think a large majority of the staff found out that I wasn’t about to just stop what I was doing and sort their problems out any more and it came as a shock for a few of them. The Financial Controller for a start. I’m rather embarrassed to say I quite enjoyed myself telling him I was busy. He had a few problems gasping the concept I’m afraid.

For a start off I don’t think I’ve ever told him I’m too busy to get the information he wants before. That in its self came as a bit of a shock, to both of us in fact. I didn’t think he could quite believe I’d said sorry, can’t do – but then neither could I.

He tried on a couple of occasions to re-phrase the request and got the same reply. To give him his due, he didn’t give up. As the day progressed he sent both Vanessa and Craig to ask for the same information. Got the same answer as well.

He then asked me if I was feeling all right as I didn’t seem myself. Well get used to it my friend because I’ve just been shown a way of saying no to people and I plan on perfecting the technique. Thank you Scally, Cobweb & Chris. Well I appreciated the help and advise even if no one else at work did.

I couldn’t help but notice that it was getting to him. I was still being very polite and compliant on one hand, just not doing what he wanted. I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it – just that I was too busy (and listed everything) until next week. I’d do it then. Unfortunately by next week I’m bloody sure something just as important will have cropped up. Terrible shame – he’s going to have to do it himself. I actually managed to finish the work I’d set myself today and also knock a few items off my To Do List. Which left me feeling very pleased with myself.

By late afternoon he had result to being nice to me – would I like a cup of tea? This may have been a genuine offer but as:

(a) He knows I don’t really drink tea very often.
(b) I can’t ever remember him making a drink before – Craig always does it.

I’m afraid I was a little bit sceptical.

Then at 4.45 p.m. he came in to say he was going home. He also mentioned that I must have had a busy day and that he hoped I’d achieved what I set out to – I most certainly had. Read into that what you will.

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Whilst shopping last night Himself notice the Valentine Cards. Look, he said, they were half price now. Did I want one? Who says romance is dead, Romeo eat your heart out. Just in case you’re wondering – I passed on the offer.

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And todays pictures are the last of the snow ones, it's now but a memory.

The trouble with taking time off is all the work you didn’t do is still there when you get back – so after recent discussions I thought I’d try not to be so helpful to my colleagues. That probably sounds awful, but as everyone thinks I can sort all manner of problems out at the blink of an eye and as long as they tell me it will get sorted, the hard nose approach is the only way to ensure I don’t disappear up my own arse.

I didn’t expect it to be easy, for a start I’ve always asked how high? When someone says jump. So I was pleasantly surprised when I found the techniques actually worked.

The telling someone what to do and then putting your head down and carrying on with your own work. A few minutes of them standing there with me ignoring them and they wandered off and sort it out themselves.

The demands to know when I will be doing something because they need the information this very minute, if not sooner – countered with ‘I’ve got this claim to run today that is worth thousands of pounds – do you want me to stop doing it? Because if it isn’t uploaded to the website by 5 p.m. it won’t get claimed for another 4 weeks’. Which is more important?

The Receptionist telling me the alarm kept sounding as if it was broken – the odd beep every five minutes was countered with what would you have done if I hadn’t been here today? She would have rung the alarm company or spoken to Simon. Off you go then, I’m sure you’ll soon have it sorted.

I was feeling very pleased with myself. Fancy not doing this before, quite smuggly cocky in fact and as the saying goes, pride comes before a fall, I just didn’t see it coming.

In comes Sam - the printer isn’t working.

Really? (Like do I care?)

Yes, it keeps blocking when you use it.

Unblock it then, there’ll be a bit of paper stuck somewhere, turn it off, open the cover and look for it (Puts head down and carries on working).

Sam wanders off.

Ten Minutes later Sam wanders back in ….

I can’t get this part to fit back in the machine.

Which to be honest isn’t at all surprising – it was never meant to be taken out of the machine to start with. The silly bugger had taken the printer apart, the idiot - never leave a screwdriver anywhere a man can see it. It's all to do with male hormones, they just can't help themselves - it's just a different form of screwing. I made him call the company to come out and fix it. He’d found the bit of paper through.

Now every five minutes I get someone sticking their head around the door asking me when the printer is going to be working again. Yes, I have stuck a notice on the bloody thing and they still ask the question. Telling them to read the notice has resulted in a few comments of – what’s the matter with you? You’re in a bad mood today.

Never mind, I just need more practise at working out what I should still do and what I shouldn’t. Rome wasn’t built in a day.

Himself chose the destination of today’s outing – which is fair enough, he never moans about all the places I want to visit. So we spent the afternoon at Forge Mill Needle Museum & Bordesley Abbey Visitors Centre in Redditch. OK, as I previously said, not really my thing old machinery but something interesting happened later on which made it worth my while.

We mooched around the Abbeys Visitors Centre first. It was that muddy, bitterly cold and wet we put off viewing the ruins – as you don’t have to pay to see them we thought we could always go back in the summer.

The Needle museum was housed in the original factory; the building itself is listed and still has the original water powered machinery. They were also hosting a display of sculptures by Jim Bond, some of which were animated.

It was whilst we were down in the scouring mills that I took an interesting photograph. Three orbs can been seen, the large one on the right and a smaller one in the centre and another to the left by the ladder. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if the building is haunted as many people lost their lives there, especially when one of the polishing wheels shattered.

I've tried every way I can think of to make this enlarge when you click on the photo - it won't let me. If anyone is interested in the original as the details isn't at it's best, just e-mail me.

And it's back to work tomorrow - I should have stuck to my guns and taken the week off.

I’m on holiday today and tomorrow and looking forward to finding the time, if I’m lucky, to do some writing. I’ve not had chance lately – too much going on at home and on top of that I’ve been bringing work home to finish in the evenings. Not enough hours in the day.

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Yesterday we visited the castle and walked around the county museum. They’ve renovated it but a lot of the displays are the same. The little horse shoe is still there for a start.



The biggest change was the picnic area; they had cut a lot of the trees down. The little copse we played in was no longer there.

As a child, we kids would visit the museum on a Sunday afternoon. The picnic area brought back memories; we used to jump over the stream. I remember once that Hayley misjudged the distance and landed smack bang in the middle of it. She made me walk all the way home to get her a change of clothes.

Looking back I think that was probably the one thing that I noticed about her even then; she was always concerned with how others viewed her. Personally, being wet and muddy wouldn’t have bothered me in the slightest; which was a good job really because I had my fair share of accidents. Falling out of trees was my speciality although I only ever hurt myself once - I broke my toe - with hind sight climbing trees bare foot wasn't that good an idea.

Hayley was very conscious of other peoples opinions and even at that age took pride in her apperance, as proud as a peacock would have been an apt description. Hence the two mile round walk I endured to get her some clean clothes. She in the mean time locked herself in one of the ladies toilets and awaited my return.

During the renovation they have installed a lift – it look like something out of a Roald Dalh story. It’s made of glass. I’m sure that some people will be impressed with the structure but personally I hate it. It doesn’t fit in with rest of the building. Why is it that architecture now days has to be so bloody clinical?

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I’m not really much of a cake person – that is I don’t eat a lot of cake; it has nothing what so ever to do with my feelings towards Mr Kipling. Although I’m sure he’s a very nice man and he does make exceedingly good cakes or so the advert says. Whilst shopping on Saturday I walked passed a bakers and spied in the window a Lemon Drizzle Cake. Mmmmm…I could eat a piece of that. So inside I go and purchased said item.

Come Saturday evening I was engrossed in the paperwork I’d brought home from work and thought – 'I just fancy a piece of that cake'. Into the kitchen I wander and look in the cupboard – no cake. Bloody typical, I buy myself a cake and some bugger has eaten it. I now know how the three bears felt when Gollilocks gate crashed.

I accused Himself of this atrocious crime against humanity – namely me. I berated him about the injustices in my life – how I rarely buy myself anything and when I do it gets taken from me. OK, I was having a tissy fit. Himself assured me he hadn’t touched it – must be youngest son he said. Lucky for youngest son or me, depending on your point of view, he was stopping at a friends house so integration was out of the question.

I went to the fridge on Sunday morning to get some butter and what did I find – the bloody cake. God in only knows why I put it there. At least I only had to apologise to Himself.

Day 2

It got off to a bad start with the thaw making its move early on. Just when it looked like the snow was going to be a one hit wonder it started again. All afternoon. Threw it down.



No one expected it either; it had come over the Welsh boarder. And to think I always thought the Welsh weren’t that keen on the English, how wrong can you be? They shared their snow with us, how kind and generous is that? I might even get another snow day out of this.

And the traffic around here is gridlocked. The dual carriageway is down to a single lane and the radio is issuing warnings of delays of up to two hours to drive 5 miles.

Steve and Lucy popped in last night, this time they didn’t want feeding – they had brought me a present. New Laces for my trainers!

Yes, OK – so I get excited when I get a present. I was really pleased with them and it was lovely that they'd thought of me.

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McDonalds have a promotion going on at the moment around our way. The free newspaper contained a booklet with vouchers in. Three of the booklets turned up on my desk yesterday; apparently everyone had thought of Craig and myself when they received them. I wasn’t sure whether to feel flattered or insulted by that. We don’t have that many McDonald lunches; only about two a month. That’s not excessive.

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AND:

It snowed. That's right, IT SNOWED. A good 4 inches too. Youngest said it started at 3.00 a.m. and half an hour later when he woke me up there was enough for a snowball fight. I don’t think anyone saw us, it was dark after all and it's not as if a lot of people are around at that time in the morning. Himself moaned that we were just like a couple of kids at Christmas and didn’t we think it was time we grew up? He’d been a sleep until we put the lights on. Miserable old sod. What did he expect? – it was snowing.

Mind you, I don’t remember sledging being so dangerous. The kids around here are kamikaze pilots and they take no hostages – if you’re at the bottom of the hill you’re fair game. It’s survival of the fittest; hence I’m now covered in bruises and have renewed my childhood acquaintance with the bramble brushes.

I gave up in the end; one broken shoulder in the family is enough and went for a walk with the camera. It's probably a good job I did because I'm sure it's trying to rain now.

We received the news yesterday that an ex-colleague had died in November, news doesn't always travel fast. Don had been part of our company from the beginning, even then he was well past retirement age; he’d continued working until seven years ago. He was a quiet man with a never ending supply of patience. He taught me a great deal including Sage accounts and payroll; he always gave me the impression that he felt I was good at what I did and that I could better myself further if I wanted to. He was incredibly loyal to our old Chef Executive Office. God knows why because she treated him appallingly especially during the last six months. Belittling him in front of staff – she even told him that he was going to have to retire in front of us. She was a right cow and didn’t have a clue how to manage people; she was ill mannered, rude and arrogant. Yes, you’re quite right I don’t think very highly of her.

She made my life hell and slowly over three year systemically destroyed my confidence. She elevated herself to Chef Executive and made sure that no one had anything to do with the Trustees. Although to my mind the Trustees were just as bad – they didn’t have a bloody clue what she was up to and considering that by law they are legally responsible for the company, they were just as much to blame for the position she got us into. Complete idiots. I don’t have a lot of faith in them either.

She undermined everything I did. She’d ask me to do something and no matter how many times I checked back with her during the process she’d still tear me to pieces when I presented the findings. It was never right, never quite what she had asked me to do, why hadn’t I listen? Look at all the time I'd wasted. I was always left feeling stupid, humiliated and bloody angry.

I remember an occasion when she’d written a cutting letter to one of our major funders demanding money that she said we were owed. She used old information and didn’t check with me first; they owed nothing at that point. She tore me to shreds – I didn’t get a chance to defend myself. Her face went crimson and spittle shot out of her mouth as she shouted. I'd made her look a fool, she said. No, I didn't point out that she could manage that all by herself. That was half the problem; I didn't stand up for myself, I hated arguements. I’d like to say that incident was a one off but it wasn’t. I seemed to end up going head to head with her most days and I dreaded it. If you did manage to get your point across she had a way of dealing with that too. She’d insinuate that you’d misunderstood and then joke about it. She always ended the sentence with a funny little laugh. I can’t tell you how much that grated over time. She’d insult you, joke about it and then titter. There were times when I longed to just slap her.

She always had to have the last word and it was never a good one. I don’t remember her ever saying to me - well done, good job or even thank you. She always said that as people were being paid to do the job they shouldn't expect thanks. She’d scribble over everything in red pen; it didn’t matter if what she said made sense as long as she could make a point, she had to prove she was in charge. She didn’t have a clue on how to manage a company and the debts grew around her. I lost so much sleep worrying about bills. I’d be robbing Peter to pay Paul in order to get enough money for the wages and she be ordering new blinds for the meeting room. She wouldn’t listen to reason no matter what you said. She was in charge and this was her empire.

Looking back now I wonder why I stayed there. I suppose mainly because I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to move on. Grief was kicking in along with depression and I no longer had the confidence in my abilities to think that my skills were transferable, or that anyone else would want me. She was paid off in the end and I’m not going into that because once again the Trustee were incompetent.

She left her mark on me through. For a start she destroyed my confidence. I was physically sick the first day I was due to go to college - Sandy thought going there would help me recognise just how much I already knew and how important my role was to the company. I tired everything I could think of to get her to change her mine, she wasn't having it through - I was going even if she had to drive me herself. I was extremely lucky to have such a good manager who supported me. Of course she had first hand knowledge of working with the Chief Exec and the cow treated everyone the same way, it was just unfortunate that I had to deal with her every day. I think college was the first step I took in getting control of my life back.

I didn’t get as far as the car park on the first week, I couldn't stop throwing up. The second week was just as difficult; I sat in the car for ages trying to build up the courage to go in. Then, thank God, my luck changed. I sat next to a lady who had worked in a factory all her life and now wanted to change careers. She was so totally down to earth that I didn’t feel intimidated. I still found it very difficult at times; especially when we had to give a presentation in front of the class. It use to amazing me that people felt I was confident because I most definitely didn’t feel it.

My ability to argue with just about everyone started about the same time. I’m working on that one – at least I now realise why I do it. It’s awful to admit that you test people but once you’ve been bullied you lose a certain amount of trust. You look deeper to see if there’s a hidden agenda, you find it difficult to take people at face value. You never again want to put yourself into a position that allows someone to have control over you. I know I often argue for the sake of it and a lot of the time I don’t even recognised that I’m even doing it. Sometimes during a conversation I can feel the panic setting in; a throw away comment from someone that would mean nothing to most people fills me with dread. My stomach turns over and my hands start to shake. I never used to be like that, that woman changed how I view the world and the people in it. I most definitely don’t want to continue to feel this way and I suppose half of the solution is just recognising it. Mind you I haven’t fully worked out how the hell I’m going to stop doing it yet, because it’s partly a defence mechanism and I think that time and trust will have to play a part. That's if I haven’t fallen out with everyone in the mean time.

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Still no snow - only frost.

Dilys came back to work today after three weeks in Spain; to say I’ve missed her help would be an understatement. You don’t have to spend ages explaining things to her or redoing the jobs she has done. She came bearing gifts as well – one very large bag of mini Toblerones to share. And apparently it’s 55 years today since the Queen’s accession to the throne, full of information is Dilys.

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Himself, whilst mooching through drawers came across a load of old photos. Did I remember this?

Oh, yes & so did eldest child. We’d been playing cat and mouse and we had to dress up for our roles. Thank God there was no pictures of me as the cat. The game involved me crawling after him on my hands and knees until I caught him. Then I tickled him until he screamed for mercy. What a lovely mother I was, child torture no less, no wonder he hadn’t forgotten. Poor kid, scared for life - it's little wonder he went through a black period in adolescents. If I hadn't tortured him like that he'd have never been a Goth.

And come to think of it there was a couple of times I took him to playgroup and school only to find they weren’t open. Half term or teacher training days, it’s a wonder the poor child didn’t get a complex – his mother didn’t want him. Although I only ever failed to collect him once – it wasn’t deliberate and I did have a back up in place, so it doesn't really count. I fell asleep in the chair; it was just after I’d given birth to youngest and Tracy brought him home.

At least with your second child you grab sleep whenever you can. You don’t give a toss what the Health Visitor thinks about the pile of ironing stacked up in the corner or whether you’ve bathed the baby before she arrives. The only important thing for the first three months is to sleep at every God given opportunity. Bugger being a perfect mother with a immaculate home and home made fairy cakes which eldest child will decorate - a functioning mother who is relatively compos mentis will do. This is the first time in your life that you change roles with your eldest child - they read you the bedtime story and you drop of to sleep sitting upright on their bed. They are then kind enough to nudge you when you start to snore.

And no way are you not going to breast feed the second time round because nature provided an easy option that costs nothing and the baby will learn to latch on whether it wants to or not. Failure is not an option. The only down side to this I found was the night feeds. I couldn't share them. I did try expressing milk once but after nearly an hour and less than an ounce I gave it up as a bad job.

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It’s trying to snow today – although I’d be hard pushed to say the weather was making much of an effort. I’m holding back on the ‘getting excited bit’ just for the moment, it looks like the sun is about to come out. Since Saturday, we've woken up to frost and I've a feeling that for this week at least it's the closest to winter weather we're going to get. Although if the weather should choose to proved me wrong I'd be OK about it.

I think I should put a warning on this blog. Not for the contents as such, although I started blogging to help put my thoughts into some sort of order so it covers everything, but more for the fact that every e-mail I sent on Sunday contained at least one wrong word; I thought one thing, typed something else and then failed to spot it. Nothing new there then. So you’ve been warned - reading this could cause confusion.

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I’ve had hormone trouble this weekend. Not me personally – male testosterone has been running wild, shouting and slamming doors. Husband and son have been clashing; both convinced they are right. Himself has been finding things to do; he got as far as sons bedroom and met resistance. Son didn’t want his bedroom ‘sorted’ and in all fairness I can’t say I blame him. I’m very much of the opinion that when kids reach a certain age they should be allowed their privacy. If son wants to live in a tip that’s up to him, as long as he keeps the door closed I don’t care. If he doesn’t bring his washing out then he can wear dirty clothes. He learnt that lesson the hard way and I’ve not had a problem with him since. I just change the bedding with my eyes adverted.

For two days I tried to negotiate a compromise and frankly it did my head in - how I managed to live though it without losing my temper, beats me. Thank God for e-mail; it was pointed out to me that I didn’t have to get involved. They are big enough to sort it out by themselves. You never see the obvious yourself and when you are the one that everyone thinks will put it right it's not always that easy to just let it go. Walk away, it's not your problem is in fact quite difficult.

It worked out well for me in the end – I lay in the bath with my book and a glass of wine and left them to sort out tea. I found a bath bomb that Lucy had brought me for Christmas from Lush and by the time I’d gone back downstairs and eaten the meal they'd prepared, I was ready for bed. I was asleep by 10 p.m. and didn’t get up until 11.30 a.m. by which time Himself had sorted the animals and got the newspapers. Being a mother means you put your own needs last; it doesn’t cross your mind that you are entitled to nice things too.

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We went out for a walk around Highley and Bewdley on Sunday afternoon. The last time I went to Highley was with my mum. Every year we had a day out together with the kids. She was brought up in Highley and wanted to go back to have a look around. We drove around the village and she pointed places out including my Grandparents house.

Apparently my parents always took me up on a Sunday and my Granddad would be waiting by the gate to take me to the shop to buy some sweets. I wish I could remember him – I was only three when he died – because Mum said, he had worshiped me. He’d always wanted a son to carry on the family name and Mum said he’d never forgiven her for not being a boy, so she’d been surprised when after giving birth to a daughter he’s adored me. In his eyes I could do no wrong.

He died on a Monday morning after retiring the previous Friday. He’d worked in the mines all his life and never got to enjoy his retirement; he only drew one week’s pension. He loved photography and I remember looking at the various projector slides as a child - unfortunately they were destroyed in the fire.

Anyway, what I remember about my visit with mum wasn’t just the family history she recalled or the fact I don’t think we stopped laughing all day; it was sitting in the car opposite the Castle Inn. My grandparents lived in Number 69 right by the pub and my parents had held their wedding reception there. I clearly remember thinking at the time – one day she won’t be with me anymore and I’m going to remember today. When she’s gone I’m going to recall how happy we’ve been. No one will ever be able to take that away from me. A good memory stored away for the future.

After visiting Higley we drove on to Bewdley. I parked up and pushed the wheelchair into the town. The weather was something else; it snowed, hailed and then rained all in the spate of five minutes. Then the sun came out and everything glistened. We had a late lunch in one of the café, jacket potatoes with cheese and salad. All the details recorded to memory for when I needed them. We then popped into Teddy Grays for some sweets.

In the very darkest days of my depression, when at times I so badly wanted to be with her – I held on to that memory. It made me think about my family and gave me a reason to keep going, to just wake up in the morning. I very rarely think of those days now or my feelings at the time; I’ve moved on. I won’t say I’ve forgotten them because I don’t think you ever do; they’ve changed my life along with the bullying that contributed towards it and that I endured at the hands of my manager at work. I haven’t fully dealt with the bullying yet and it still affects me even today. Just lately I’ve been thinking about it more, if only to understand why I react like I do to certain things - it's time to move on. She has no hold over me now and I don't need to keeping fighting.

Bewdley and the Canadian Geese Synchronized Swimming Team

I woke up with a headache this morning and no amount of tablets seemed to be able to shift it. I think part of the problem is that Himself has been able to sleep on his side the last couple of nights and for the first time in three weeks I’ve had a couple of good nights sleep. Which I suppose should mean I feel a lot better for it. It doesn’t seem to work that way. I’ve felt more tired over the last couple of days than I’ve felt over the last three weeks and if you had told me that was at all possible last week; I wouldn’t have believed you. God only knows why it works that way, but it does. Catch up sucks.

And to top it all off it was payroll day. Lucky, lucky, me. Once again I’ve encounted missing timesheets, six new starters without the paperwork (which I’ve been asking for over the last week – how the hell am I meant to know what grade they’re on? And I’m not even going to start on the HR side of it; joining letters, contracts, CRB checks?), missing bank details, sorting out bank holiday pay for part-time workers. OK I’m stopping at that point, the list seems endless. Our monthly payroll tops £67,000 – it’s hard enough to run without added further complications.

I was about half way through it when the Workshop Team Leader came in. He had a problem; there were workers mending next doors roof and they had erected scaffolding in the stream that runs under the buildings. They had put up gang planks and the kids from the workshop were eyeing them up. He was convinced that they’d try to climb it (wouldn’t surprise me in the least). What was I going to do about it?

Me? Since when had this become my problem? Well he said, Sandy wasn’t in and Simon was on Holiday. He then looked expectantly at me.
I’m an Office Manager, I’m meant to manage the office – I’m not in charge of health & safety or overseeing any of the departments. Why does everyone always think I'll put it right. He’s a Team Leader, surely to God he could sort it out. He just stood there looking blankly at me. So, I did want I always do and said those fatal words – leave it with me, I’ll sort something. Yes, OK, that's why they always ask me.

‘Sorting something’ involved me going next door and discussing the risks involved, they in turn called the roofers down and we spent the next twenty minutes discussing all the options. Outcome; they agreed to fence it off and make sure that the gang planks were removed when they were not in situ. Why the Team Leader couldn’t do this, I don’t know. The trouble is you end up doing it yourself because it quicker than arguing the toss and just as much to the point, I really couldn’t be bothered. I just wanted to finish my own job and go home early and I knew that wasn’t going to happen either, I’d still be at work come 5 p.m.