April in Instagram

So what have I been doing lately apart from being over-emotional, as testified by my last blog post?

Office playtime My office is kind of cool. We have a meeting room with lots of cool stuff to play with including some Play Doh. Now I can make stuff in the middle of meetings. I am concentrating I swear, Making caterpillars helps me focus.

Tequila time The beginning of the Easter weekend kicked off with a trip round to a colleague's house. I came in from work on Thursday, slapped some lippy on and...got so so drunk. Horrifyingly drunk. This is what happens when you drink at home and you're in control of pouring your own drinks and in charge of several bottles of tequila.

Birthday time Two days after Tequila Night it was my birthday. 32. Ugh. No thanks. I travelled back to Hull for the weekend, still suffering from the Tequila Night Hangover. A quick nap on the sofa at Mum's when I arrived and I woke up to this little Fred face looking at me. Pretty sure he was judging me.

Fred and Lily time I ended up penned in by these guys on the sofa one night. Best night of my life.

Chandelier time I had a meeting for work at the Hilton Birmingham Metropole. It has some amazing chandeliers in the meeting rooms and my favourite thing is taking photographs of them.

Rowan time I love this dog. She is my best friend. I can't get enough of taking photos of her face, although why she looks so sad all the time I'll never know.

Gerbil time Gerbil playtime has been happening. I still can't take my eyes off it for more than a second. If I do then when I look back I will see a scene similar to this. Tyrion Lannister is always on a mission to escape.

Crochet time I've been undertaking some major crochet time recently for a pretty hefty commission for a child's nursery with a bird theme.

London time I was down at the Business Design Centre down in London for a meeting for work which has lots of cool artwork on the walls like the one pictured.

Picnic time A few of us got over excited at the sight of the sunshine and headed down to a local park for a picnic. It was a really brilliant afternoon, looking forward to lots more as the weather improves

Bradgate Park time Following on from the Bradgate Park - Winter Edition, Janet and I ventured to Bradgate Park for the Spring Edition. Blog post to come eventually. 

Lille time Blog post also incoming on this one. I had just over 24 hours in Lille on a trip with work. I declared Lille a thoroughly Instagrammable city. Hopefully a blog post will be incoming on this one too. 

Now just to write blog posts about it instead of putting photos on Instagram...

Follow me on Instagram here

Discovering Instagram...

I do enjoy being extraordinarily late to a party you know.

For years and years I have resisted the lure of the iPhone. Mainly because I'm the only person on the planet who doesn't find Apple technology intuitive to use at all, and also because there was a little bit of the twat in me who wanted to be a bit different.

I caved.

When it came to upgrading I didn't like any of the Android offerings so I decided to take the plunge. I still don't find the technology intuitive but the good thing is that in this day and age you're never more than 2 foot away from someone who can show you how to use an iPhone.

One of the first things downloaded on to my phone?

Instagram.

I've had a Windows Phone for 2 years and I have been one of their biggest supporters for a really long time. Or I've tried to be. But the total lack of access to Apps was just slowly killing me. And especially killing me was the fact that I couldn't get on Instagram - I was stood with my nose pressed up against the glass watching everyone else have fun with their selfies and their filters whilst I stood out in the cold.

The forward facing camera is also a new revelation in my life. My old phone didn't have one, selfies were either an impossibility or an extreme pain in the backside involving a lot of guess work and a steady hand. I always thought I wasn't really a selfie person but the sheer number of photos of my face in the below collage seems to indicate that I was just looking for the right means...

1: My first Instagram photo. A family portrait of me and the gerbils. Thank goodness for the forward facing camera or this photo would have been too difficult to capture.

2: Telecons that go on for 2 hours should be banned

3: But tea and knock-off jelly beans can make everything feel better

4: Me and my bestie, Rowan. I love that face so much, I can't believe she is 9 already

5: Some people are culture vultures, I just have culture gerbils. Here is Tyrion Lannister catching up on some reading. (Yes he did later start to eat the book)

6: My first food photo on Instagram. A killer bacon sandwich with spare sausage to help chase away a Saturday hangover.

7: I've been crocheting - what's it going to be, and more importantly, who is it for? All will be revealed.

8: I got my paintbrushes out and started making over a pretty boring side table. And nearly killed myself with paint fumes in the meantime. Why is DIY never straightforward for me?

9: I am determined to get myself back into running. I am. It has been a bit faltering this year but I took myself  out after work for a little 3km stumble and it wasn't all bad. Did I run the whole thing? No I didn't. Do I care? No, for the first time ever I genuinely don't. This revelation needed to be recorded.

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Do you like photos and vidoes of gerbils? If so do feel free to give me a follow @Shippers1983

Photo an Hour l 17th January

When I discovered that first Photo an Hour date was set for the 17th January I immediately thought to myself that I wouldn't bother. I knew that Saturday 17th January was going to be a fairly rubbish day for me. It would be the first day off I had had in thirteen days as I had gone straight from my first week back at work, straight through a week on-site in Barcelona, straight to another event in London.

In other words I was going to be absolutely shattered.

But I sucked it up and got on with it. After all, someone's day might be busy and someone's day might be lazy - what would mine have in store?

This was Saturday 17th January...

09.30 Quite the luxurious lie in compared to the days I'd had in the previous weeks but I was still shattered as I had not been to bed until gone 4am the day before. Not because I was being a huge party animal, but because other people were being huge party animals and I ended up taking care of some people - taking them to bed when it was time for the party to end, returning them to bed when they decided their party wasn't over...I was incredibly unimpressed. I felt I deserved a fry up.

10.30 In hindsight I should have just packed up and gone home. I left my house at 4.30am the previous Saturday and was keen to just get home, but being the nice person I am I was checking on people and making sure they were ok and helping them to get ready to check out, helping them pack their bags, ringing their rooms to make sure they were still alive etc etc. Oh I'm being serious. There were some real party people and I was rapidly losing my patience, wanting to be out of the hotel and on a train.

11.30 Everyone rounded up, in a taxi and finally at St Pancras station ready to return home.

12.20 Essential train snackagement.

13.30 No photo as I was train sleeping after train snacking

14.20 The best photo of my day. Finally back at home and finally getting to see my two little gerbil bums. I had missed them so much whilst I was away and you know what? I think they missed me.

15.30 Unpacking. A.k.a. chucking everything all over my bed and then sifting through the debris and putting a load of washing on.

16.30 Washing finished and hung up. On-site uniform is where super boring ugly clothes come to die. Black dresses, white shirts, black tights - bleurgh.

17.30 Time to catch up with The Archers after my week away. I could wait for the omnibus the next day but what would be the fun in that when the podcasts are downloaded and ready to go?

18.30 No food in the house. What better excuse than to order a takeaway...

19.45 ...which didn't arrive for over an hour. I was ridiculously hungry.

20.40 On the sofa beneath cushions, blanket and big wrap. I was not up for moving any time soon.

21.30 After a brief nap under my cushion/blanket/wrap pile I decided it was time to blow the candles out before I burned down the flat and take myself to bed where I promptly slept for over twelve hours.

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Many thanks to Louisa for hosting - check out her blog for February's Photo an Hour date and don't forget that you can join in on Twitter and Instagram using #photoanhour

BEDM Day 12: Walk to Work

As soon as I saw this on the list of topics for BEDM I had a very wry smile on my face.

Why?

Take a look at this photo;

I took this photo from my living room window - you see that arrow over there on the far right?

That's where my work is. It takes me about 7 minutes to walk from the door of my flat to the comfort of my office chair.

I'm a lucky devil. Just under two years ago my commute involved walking about five miles a day and a train journey. Just over a year ago I moved to my new job and my commute was a much more pleasant experience as documented in last year's BEDM post on the same topic. A walk of about a mile and a half with lots of lovely views and the chance to see the castle every day.

I know which one out of the three that I prefer...

Interesting January

As part of my Not Really Resolution for 2014 I said that I would aim to do one interesting thing each month. This was in an attempt to get me out of the house and seeing people and not sitting at home and letting myself fall into the Vortex of Doom.

January got off to a flying start thanks  to the chance to go to London for a work-related dinner. There was a point where I nearly pulled out as it turned out I was the only person going but I decided to be a very brave person and just get on with it. I'm 30 and that means going out and doing things out of my comfort zone, not sitting and whingeing like a baby that I can't do things by myself. Get a grip woman.

As it turns out I wasn't really alone, for I had with me my armour in the shape of my beloved Vivien of Holloway dress.

I bought this dress for our work's Christmas party - I've been hankering to own one for a long long time but didn't really have an occasion/reason to buy one. That's where working in corporate land comes in handy - black tie occasions. I swooped and snapped one up in a terribly sensible navy colour, but I bought a bright pink petticoat to go with it, I can't be totally corporate you know.

I love this dress more than life itself. The second you put it on you are surrounded by the overwhelming urge to spin and spin and spin. And spin. You also feel like a lovely lady which is not something I often feel like, being a little scratbag in jeans most of the time.

But most importantly, when I put this dress on it I feel pretty damn good. Good enough to walk into a cocktail reception on my own, with my head held high and network like a pro. Chat chat chat, booze booze booze. It's not so bad once you get on with it. And the dress actually helps - people like this dress, they want to comment on it and when they do, boom, there's your opener to have a conversation.

Good work dress. Good work.

My dress of armour/dessert/champage/late night hot dog - best idea ever

On it's own I feel like this one thing would have counted as my interesting thing for this month, but it just kept...getting...better.

As I knew I was going to be in London I thought to my little self "Who do I know who lives in London" and I hit upon it immediately - Chloe lives in London-town doesn't she?! A few tweets and texts later and we had a plan in place. Chloe took on the admirable task of feeding a fuzzy-headed, champagne-hanging me. I took on the admirable task of getting from Hammersmith across to the other side of London, in no way aided by the London Underground who had helpfully chosen that day to close the Tube to Chloe's house.

It's almost as if London Transport has absolutely no regard for my plans sometimes.

I feel bad that I didn't visit something whilst in London, I always feel like I ought to because it's so rare that I get to go there, but I count lunch with a friend and a Tube adventure as something interesting.

I also came into St Pancras International via a different entrance and was floored by walking smack bang into the biggest statue I've ever seen. I have absolutely no idea how I've missed it before, given the number of times I come into St Pancras because it is hard to miss.

Discovering something new I hadn't seen before in London? Counts as something interesting.

The Meeting Place/standard blogger photos of St Pancras International ceiling

But wait.

It doesn't stop there.

After coming back from London I dropped my stuff off at home and went to meet Char who was actually in my home town. I know. No-one comes here. No-one is ever here. Even I don't want to be here.

What do you do when someone comes to your home town? Well you suggest you go for dinner in a lovely bar which serves your raw burgers....No. Not my finest moment. Of course, in all the times I've visited this place and had the burger they've never been raw but the one time you bring someone there...

We were brave and resisted our British instincts to not make a fuss and just eat the raw burger and sent them back at which point they returned with a core temperature which was basically the same as the surface of the sun. 

Unfortunately, as the third exciting thing to have happened to me in 24 hours, Char didn't get the best of me but I managed to avoid faceplanting with tiredness onto the table thanks to a well-timed pint of Coke.

Most importantly about this meeting though is that whilst Char was waiting for me to get my backside back from London she took the opportunity to look around my home town and she is now my witness when I say that there is nothing here. So next time you hear me complaining and roll your eyes and go "It can't possibly be that bad" I'm sending you to Char who will confirm that yes, yes it is that bad.

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So there you have it. 2014 is off to a brilliant start - fancy dinner in London plus a meeting up of two special internet friends in two different places - good work January.

My grass isn't greener

It's funny really when I think about it. Although 'funny' in that way where you feel like you might be hysterically laughing to stop yourself from collapsing on a heap in the floor crying.

I never would have thought in a million years that I'd be sat here in 2013 saying I'm in a worse place than I was in 2012.

I know right. How could anything be worse than 2012? Going from being made redundant, to having to move away from my friends and family in Hull, to being unemployed for a few months, to ending up in possibly the most depressing job where I got bullied. I lived in a city where I had no friends, other than The Person, oh and in the middle of it all I had a pretty spectacular meltdown.

2013 was the ultimate in fresh starts. Literally moving on the 1st January to a new place and starting a new job on the 2nd January which I was loving. There were challenges in the form of living in my sister's box room and having The Person live all the way in Preston but I was feeling fairly positive.

So how is it, that 2013 is heading towards a close and I feel worse than ever?

It's as if multiple things have conspired against me that seem determined to try and block my happiness everywhere I turn and, with no potential solution for some of them in sight, I can feel the 'badness' (those looming, crushing feelings of awfulness that seem to always be hovering over me in the background but I manage to keep at bay) starting to begin it's slow and painful creep over my shoulders.

For a start, the place I live in is tiny. I don't really know how to stress that word enough. The main 'town' is literally a street. A small street. We have one high street clothes store which is about the size of my living room. Luckily I'm not that interested in clothes shopping because that may have pushed me over the edge a long time ago. The fact is that there is just nothing to do here. Basically once you've visited the castle you're kind of out of things to do.

Frustratingly there's a whole host of things to do pretty much on my doorstep. I'm not a million miles away from some decent cities - Derby, Leicester, Nottingham, heck even Birmingham isn't that far away. There's the National Forest practically tapping at my window and National Trust properties galore. The problem? Absolutely none of them are accessible if you don't have a car.

Welcome to the sticks people, where public transport is non-existent and you are left with a situation where visiting Pets at Home and Wickes is the highlight of your weekend.

I have a huge bugbear about people with cars not understanding what life is like without one. I would love for them to come here for a week and be faced with constantly having to say "I'd love to, but I can't get there." or "I'd love it, but could you give me a lift?" Nothing like being 30 and not being able to independently get anywhere to make you feel good about yourself. The closest town I could get to is Burton, which takes 45 minutes on a bus, despite being a 25 minute car drive away and I think I can get to Leicester, although it appears to take 1.5 hours and involve a convoluted and difficult bus journey where you may have to get off a bus but also might not have to - I've been too scared to try it in case I just end up on a bus for the rest of my week.

I do technically have access to a car in the form of my sister's tank but to borrow that means a mile and half walk to her house (and back home again after dropping the car off) and actually, funnily enough, she needs to use her car as well. I'm probably not great at asking for it when I need it because, again, nothing like not being able to independently travel anywhere etc etc.

Secondly, I am 30 and it is well known that the older you get, the harder it is to make friends. I have been here a year and still don't have anyone I can call a friend. Don't get me wrong, I get on with lots of people at work. Lots of people - lots of chatting, lots of laughs - but they are restricted to 9-5. There has been nothing which has materialised into an outside of work friendship. Actually a lot of that is again down to location - most people don't live in this town, but live in other places and commute in, so they're not about to meet up or do anything with. Those people that do live here have lived here all their lives and are the ultimate in small town cliques - no matter how well you get on with them in work, it's not going to translate to an offer of a night out.

I am an extrovert in the true sense of the word. I need people around me to gain my energy. My spark comes from talking to people and interacting with people. I'm not like introverts, who see social interaction as something that drains them - it's honestly my life force.* Me without friends is just not pleasant. And on top of not making friends here, I have slowly but ever so surely drifted away from my friends back home. It happens, people get boyfriends, you don't live there any more, life moves on and leaves you stranded behind it. But it means I have no-one to talk to about the crushing loneliness I'm experiencing here.

All of the above has added up to put pressure on my relationship, and whilst I don't really want to go into that on here (at the moment) things have not been great between us and we are needing to do some emergency repair work. Which is actually difficult when you have nowhere to go because you have no transport (begin that loop again.)

Which brings us to wok. And again without wanting to go into that too much - things have not been great there. My role has changed due to unavoidable circumstances and whilst I appreciate that a new role has been found for me it's not a) what I wanted to do and b) I'm receiving absolutely no guidance at all on how to do it. It's frustrating and just really really gutting because I'd finally found something that I wanted to do and thought I was doing well at.

So there you have it. The holy trifecta of work, relationship and friends has slowly but steadily crumbled over the past few months, leaving me feeling like I'm hanging over a precipice. One from which I have no escape because there isn't a bloody bus back from said precipice.

I joke.

Not really.

Last year, I may have been unemployed and without friends but I lived in a city. There was plenty to do and plenty to explore and there were other places that were on our doorstep that we could get to because there were public transport links. Living here is like experiencing cabin fever on a major scale and feeling as though the other shoe is about to drop...

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*For a cartoon which incredibly cleverly and easily explains the difference between introverted and extroverted people please see this How to interact with the introverted cartoon - it will honestly help you you understand the differences between the two. 

On the farm

Remember this one time when I went away with all the bloggers in March to Norbury Manor? Of course you do I talk about it all the time.

You may remember in that post that one of the highlights was when we went in search of some alpacas that some of the group claimed to have seen during a walk about. We never found those alpacas but we were confronted by two farm dogs who were not best pleased at our loitering. In case you forgot the photo or can't be bothered to click through to that link then here they are...

Fast forward to a month or so later. One of my bosses wants to get together some of the key account people to have a strategy meeting of sorts and wants it off-site. Someone has mentioned a place -  a farm that's not a million miles away that has cottages and a big meeting room. Will I check it out?

So I go online and check it out and it all sounds good. We go ahead and book and the dates are put in people's diaries.

A few days before we go away I go back to the website for another look. Oh how exciting it's a working farm with real animals and everything and oh good lord they have alpacas, I love alpacas.

I get in the car with my sister on Monday morning and we gear up the sat nav, we put the postcode in and I'm vaguely reminded of something. I look at a map and some of the directions on the website and realise that it's quite close to Norbury Manor...

I read the directions some more. It talks about going over a bridge.

As in...a bridge that you might play pooh sticks on and not be able to work out who won?

Alpacas + Pooh Stick bridge + near Norbury Manor...

No. It couldn't be. What would be the chances?

We pull up and there, standing before me who do I see?

Kipper.

Who promptly does this,

And then this...

Closely followed by Charlie who growls as me and yet wants me to stroke him and seems to be quite confused about which he wants more.

And a cat! Called Suki who has the most soft and beauiful fur ever.

And another cat called Tango, who unfortunately eluded my camera.

And alpacas!

And donkeys!

And little chicks!

I am indeed on the other side of the fence to where I was standing about 2 months previously.

Cue immediately taking to Twitter to tell #TeamNorbury about where I was.

Unbelievable.

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This was a work thing so I've ummed and aahed about whether to post this and whether or not I should link to the place we stayed. I don't feel comfortable going into too many details about our stay but I equally want to recommend it to anyone who was looking for a holiday cottage let in the Derbyshire/Staffordshire area. If you do want the details about where we stayed drop me an e-mail or send me a Tweet (@Shippers83) and I'll let you know the details. It was fabulous.

A Day in the Life...

Being a PA is one of those jobs that cause people to put their heads on one side and go "So what do you actually do then?" I will fully admit to being one of those people and I've gots to tell you - if I knew how mental this job was going to be at times I don't know that I would have gone for it.

The trouble is it's hard to tell people what you do because, mega cliche alert, there really is no typical day for me. I can have days where things are relatively quiet and I can bumble about and not feel too pressured. Then I can have days which make me eyeballs hurt and my brain swell to twice its normal size.

Today's BEDM topic is "What's in your Fridge" but given that a) my fridge isn't really my fridge seeing as I live at my sister's and b) I don't wanna do that topic, I'm going to go back to one of the first topics that I missed which was to describe a Day in Your Life.

I tried to do this and put times on it but it just wouldn't work like that - so instead I have jotted down a list of the tasks which can, and do, take up my day:

• MD going to visit business in Sweden next week - sort flights and hotel in Stockholm
• Email travel department for quotes for Milan flights for the Business Development Director
• Get stopped by someone in company – do I have the details for a company that deals with First & Business Class travel? Find details and e-mail them over.
• Arrange transfers for someone from office in Ireland to get from airport to office and back again.
• Send out telecon details to people in Japan for meeting the next morning
• Send details of golf team, handicaps, mobile numbers, dietary requirements to people arranging a charity Golf Day
• Go to Tescos and buy 100 Crunchies for the staff
• Email American part of the business, re arrangements for MD’s stay in America next week
• Email Sweden to let them know documents have arrived and I will get signed and sent back to them once MD is in the office
• Call from MD – need to look through his travel for the year and estimate flight costs for upcoming year for the budget - spend hours on Skyscanner working out different prices from various airports in the UK to Belgium/Sweden/Denmark/Turkey/Japan and the US.
• Try and get tickets for Wimbledon for a client
• Fail to get tickets for Wimbledon for a client
• Email from America – need to book hotel and transfers for meeting on 28^th Transfers needed from Manchester to hotel near office, from hotel to office, and from office back to Manchester. Hotel room in Manchester needs booking
• Research Ice Driving Experiences on the internet - there are a surprising number of them - make up spreadsheet showing costs/location/what's included etc
• Put together Powerpoint presentation for the UK Staff Update - e-mailing everyone asking for info, putting together slides showing new starters, employee of the month etc 
• Get together Board Packs for the Board Meeting
• Sit in Board Meeting (1pm-5pm) and take minutes - type minutes up
• Ask for MD's credit card receipts in order to code up sheet for finance - handed fistfuls of paper to sort through
• Get all mileage/expense forms for the Directors filled in and passed to finance
• Organise Charity Day for company
• Order enough paper for the company (we go through about 60 packs of paper every 2/3 weeks) and make sure the ink levels in the printers are ok.
• General diary management
• And on and on and on and on and on and on 

Compliments - BEDM Day 23

I know how everyone's going to begin their posts for this BEDM topic.

"I'm no good at accepting compliments..." will go the starting line.

Of course it will. No-one's going to be that person who stands up and says "I am the fricking shit at accepting compliments. I'm so good at accepting compliments that people compliment me on my acceptance of compliments. Oh, and I also shoot rainbows out of my fingertips."

I mean we all love compliments, nobody is going to sit there and say "Oh no please don't tell me I'm good at something, that is literally the worst thing you could do." What we are not good at is the graceful acceptance of compliments.

Is it a British thing? People liken it not being able to toot their own trumpet and I can see the similarities but they're not really the same - it's a big step to go from just saying "Thank you" when someone says something nice to us, to going out wearing a sandwich board proclaiming our awesomeness.

It shouldn't really be difficult though should it? You just. say. Thank you. That's all. It's a simple process - Compliment in, warm fuzzy feeling generated, thank you out the other side.

But it's just impossible.

Take this conversation I had with someone at work some time ago;

Colleague: Oh your beehive looks amazing, I wish I could do that.

Me: Oh my hair is just massively greasy  is all. This beehive is stuck up here with determination and dirt. You can't do a good beehive unless your hair is proper filthy. So whenever you see me with a beehive in you'll know my hair needs a good wash.

Colleague: *nervously laughs and backs away*

And now I daren't put  my hair in a beehive because they'll all know I'm a grease monkey.

Walk to work - BEDM Day 17

Let us cast our mind's back to last year - this post here details my commute each day. For those who can't be bothered to read it now or can't bring themselves to read it again - let me paraphrase. My commute was horrible. It involved walking 5.5 miles every day and catching a train and all for a job which was so awful it made me cry almost every single day for 4 long months.

Fast forward to now and things are very different.

Most of the time I get a lift into work with my sister but if she's not able to for whatever I reason I make the walk in and out. It's only 1.5 miles which is a piece of cake compared to the last commute, and even better, there's plenty to look at for the first three quarters of the walk. The rest of it is just a long road which is terribly boring.

Confession time. I took these photos in the evening on a walk back home from the gym.

So shoot me. The light was nicer anyway in your face.

First point of interest is this wall of flowers not far up the road from my sister's house. I can never remember what this looks like when it's not all colourful. I'm guessing just like a boring stone wall but right now it's a much welcome burst of colour.

I walk along the road up the hill. It's not a big hill but is rather a very long road on a terribly steady incline. Trust me, when you're attempting to run at it you are all too aware that it is up-hill, but when you're walking at a nice steady pace it's hardly anything to write home about.

The apex of the hill is this bridge over the railway track. I look at it and curse it. Because no trains run on this track. This place that I live in doesn't have a train station, despite the fact that it's perfectly placed for people to commute to Derby, Birmingham and Nottingham. *shakes fist*

And then it is on to a very secluded and very long pathway. This is not a great deal of fun in the dark let me tell you. But for now it is light late in the day and the beauty of this long pathway is what is on it...

...First I come to an old fallen down building of some sort. But this is just a prelude to the real show...

The castle! I am still not bored of seeing this on my walks to and from town and to and from work and my guess is that I will never get bored of seeing it. Castles are amezzing and this castle may have seen better days but it is still awesome and a dilapidated castle is better than no castle at all in my opinion.

Chances are when I'm walking down this pathway I'm also looking at the sky because I have a bit of a fondness for the sky. And the chances are that when it is sunny I'm taking a picture of the sky because I seem to have developed a bit of an obsession with blue skies and white clouds...

Coming to the end of the pathway I come out to the church (the clock is broken btw) and then it is a case of dodging past the school-kids on their way to the school opposite and a walk to the end of the road where I come to one of my all time favourite signs ever...

This sign.

I don't know why it makes me so happy. Maybe because it's all looking a little weatherbeaten. Maybe it's the font. Maybe it's that it has the word 'sluice' in it which is a satisfying word to say in your head.

And then it really is a boring walk down a main road which would not only be boring for you to look at pictures of but would have been embarassing for me to take.

And that is just one more reason why this job is better than my last one...

My first job - BEDM Day 8

I got my first job when I was 16. That's probably old by some people's standards.

Dad had left in the summer and as we came up to Christmas Mum explained that things weren't going to be easy money-wise - it was time for me to go out and earn some cash of my own for presents and going out and for all the other things which are essential to being a teenager.

I don't even remember how I applied for the job - a shame because what exactly do you put on a CV when you've never had any work experience before? Either way I obviously passed whatever test they had and I found myself in House of Fraser in the men's department ready to start work.

It was work as a Christmas temp - so Thursday evenings and Saturdays and Sundays were my working days.

I remember feeling incredibly intimidated by those that worked there full time. Imagine working all the days in the week and getting paid for it? It was the first time that had never really crossed my mind - "work" was still a vague concept to me up until that point but here it was in reality.

I mostly remember feeling bored. Feeling really incredibly bored. If I learned one skill it was that of being able to be completely lost in my own thoughts whilst retaining an outer appearance of looking interested and not as if I wanted to curl up in a ball and go to sleep. God knows how many miles I would walk each shift as I paced around whichever clothing brand's section I was on that day - straightening jumpers and putting clothes back in size order. I'm not sure why I was bothering, everyone else was engaged in idle chit chat - but I was 17 and not with the confidence to barrel up to people and start talking to them straight away.

Being a Christmas temp meant Christmas working and one of my shifts was Boxing Day for the sales. I will never forget the total chaos that faced me as I stood, bewildered in the middle of the department, as clothes went flying past my head as bargain hunters rummaged. It was the one day that I was definitely not bored, my shift never passed as quickly as it did on that day as I was employed in the neverending task of trying to keep the displays tidy as the sale-goers tornado raged through the store.

My best day was January 1st 2000. That's right. The very first day of this Millennium saw me at work. And no, nobody came in. I think I served about 5 people that day. It was also the day I finally found a friend. A guy who had been working upstairs in womenswear who was brought down to the Ground Floor for that day. We spent the whole day talking about nonsense and rolling up carrier bags to store under the tills. It was brilliant.

That day I was called upstairs and told that they wouldn't be keeping me on after Temporary Christmas contract expired. I had had no plans to stay anyway so that probably makes it the only time in my life when I was relieved to find out that my job would be ending.

I look back on my few months there and scour my brain for the life lesson that I must have learned. There has to be something surely? It was my first experience of the working world.

But all I can come up with is that it is incredibly important to double check that you've taken the security tag off people's clothes when you run it through the till. They get really mad when you don't do that.

January and February Project 365 round up

Yay I love being late with posts like this.

But really what do you expect, it took me until mid-February to post about my Not Really Resolutions.

I liked doing these round-up posts last time I did Project 365 - they were nice for me to look back at each month and also means that I post about the stuff that I forgot to post about. I don't understand how I ever posted more frequently, I think I'm doing amazingly and back on my blogging track and then I look and realise that I have posted 4 times in March - what? Worst blogger ever.

Anyhoo. Here's post 5 the month and a quick round-up of my best* photos of January and February.

January

Clockwise L-R: SWAN, my new home, Rowan taking over my bed, reading on the train, fancypants house, SNOW

6th January - I took a picture of a swan innit? This is a lovely wee place that we drive to to take the dogs for a walk. This swan nicely floated into view for me to take a photo, then caught sight of Rosie, hissed and scared the shit out of me.

1st January - First photo of the year and a picture of my new nest. This is the box room at my sister's that I moved into before starting work the next day. Man when I think about that I'm impressed I didn't have some kind of breakdown...

4th January - ...but how could I feel rubbish when I was now living with this person? This is Rowan, taking over my whole bed which she still regularly does and I let her because I'm a fool.

20th January - Being away from The Person properly sucks but it does mean that I get a good load of train reading in. I love being on a train, forced relaxation is the bomb.

21st January - It snowed! Ha. I thought this was such a novelty - little did I know it would still be happening in March. Less cool.

29th January  - My first big work challenge - organising a Strategy Meeting for all the Directors at work. We went to the place pictured and I flounced about like I was in Downton Abbey.

February

Clockwise L-R: Cats vs Andrew, Peeking Fred, failed Cookie Monster cupcake, very early roses for Valentine's Day, Rosie got to my Valentine's card before I did, the beginnings of the Tetris Blanket.

10th February - The Person is a funny old fellow you know. I came back to the flat to discover this little set-up - my two ceramic cats (why yes, yes they are Fred and Lily!) set up looking into the fish tank. Apparently the idea is to give them some "stimulus". Personally I reckon Andrew could take them on.

1st February - I went back to Hull for the first time since before Christmas. This means some jolly good Fred and Lily time. This is a photo of Fred peeking at me from behind a curtain. I have no idea why.

9th February - Let us never forget Cookie Monster-gate. 'Nuff said.

11th February - I got roses for Valentine's Day! Wait. But this photo says the 11th February. Oh yes, that's because The Person kind of got the delivery date wrong. Hey, he tried at least!

13th February - The Person did manage to send a Valentine's Day card in time though. Unfortunately Rosie got to it before I did...

25th February - Hey I had a great idea in February, I was going to crochet a Tetris Blanket. This involved planning to the max. Excel to the rescue!

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You see this is exactly why I've done Project 365 for another year. It helps you to remember all the daft little things. I mean who wouldn't want to remember the time they completely messed up their baking or when the dog ate your Valentine's Day card? 

Exactly.

*When I say "best" clearly I don't mean photographically brilliant, I just mean my bestest and favouritest moments.

2, 4, 6, 8...

Apologies  for the absence, just when I thought was getting back into the swing of things as well. 

The reason for my brief disappearance has been work and I thought that now would be a good time to let people know how it's going, given that lots of lovely people have taken the time to ask me how things are going.

Basically, it's brilliant and I love it. I've never worked so hard in my life and I'm working longer hours than I've worked but I don't resent it and have relished finally having the opportunity to use my brain. 

From my very first day I've had a challenge looming on the horizon - a strategy meeting with all the Directors and other members of the senior leadership team up in Scotland. It was my job to organise it and although on the surface it doesn't sound particularly complicated - get 15 people to North Berwick - this has almost consumed my life getting it sorted.

If it had been 15 people all coming from one place that would have been vastly easier - instead it was 6 people going from one place, 4 coming from 3 different places, 2 people coming from America, 2 people coming in a car - my head has been spinning at times. But luckily the fact that I have an obsession with spreadsheets meant that I knew who was coming in from where and at what time and when transfers would be picking us up from Edinburgh airport etc etc

Even then it wasn't easy. Trying to keep a group of 15 high powered people is a bit like trying to herd cats (now that would be a job) I would have one group under control, turn my back to get another, and turn back round to find they'd all wandered off in several directions, talking into/trying to get a signal on their phones.

I was responsible for making sure the meeting ran smoothly, people were fed and watered, and for taking the minutes and the actions of the meeting.

By the end of the 2nd day I was pretty much beside myself. I was tired and my eyes felt like they were bathed in acid, from staring at my laptop screen all day as I took down the minutes. I was the only person that had to concentrate through the whole meeting - others could let their minds wander and dip in and out but I had to remain focused - and my brain was feeling the strain.

I'd also arranged spa appointments and golf for the following day and in the breaks during the day, whilst getting people to sign documents that I'd been asked to bring with me to get Director's signatures, and giving people train tickets for their travel the next day and being asked when appointments were and when taxis were and when dinner was, I was ready to snap.

I had one of those moments where I was like "I am not cut out for this. My job is to organise these people and at the moment all I want to do is tell them to organise themselves."

Then at the dinner table that night the Director stood up to propose a toast. I wasn't surprised - it'd been a long couple of days and a lot had been talked about and it seemed right to acknowledge that.

So imagine my surprise when the toast was for me.

For little old me. To acknowledge and thank me for organising everything and making sure everyone got where they should be and for ensuring that the meeting ran smoothly.

I was flabbergasted and then I realised...

I have never been thanked for doing my job. Ever. I have never been sincerely told "Well done" or "Thank you" or "That was great." Isn't that bad that I've been in the employment game for 13 years or so and have never experienced that?

I know there are those that believe that you shouldn't need to be praised for doing your job - after all, it is what you are paid to do - but there can be no greater motivator to ensure that you continue to try and do your best than being shown a little bit of appreciation for a job well done. It was genuinely surprising to be in an organisation that made me feel valued and whilst it was lovely it also made me a little sad that it's taken me this long to experience it.

And that is why I am happy to take these eyeballs that feel like they've been bathed in acid to bed and get up ready to do it again, and better.

The Dress Code

As you can probably tell I am not a fashion blogger. The reasons for this are numerous and include, but are not limited to, the following:

a) I hate pictures of myself and can only pose when someone else is in the photo with me;

b) ...or I am drunk, and,

c) *whispers* I'm just not interested in fashion

I've never been a clothes horse and my wardrobe is by no means bursting at the seams. When people talk about things they've bought that they've forgotten about and never worn, they are met with an uncomprehending stare from me. 

I don't know what the latest must-have wardrobe item is, I don't know what trend I should be rocking, I own 4 pairs of jeans, 3 of which are too big for me and/or suffering from what I endearingly call "crotch rot". (where the inside seams rub away - I know it happens to others too, it's not just me!) And before people chime in saying "I don't own jeans either", you should know that jeans are my uniform. I don't wear dresses. I don't wear skirts. I wear jeans and a t-shirt/jumper. Or pyjamas.

I don't pay attention to what other people are wearing. Ever. I am oblivious to all things clothes-related, you could be wearing rags for all I'd remember. There is no point saying "Do you remember that thing that so-and-so was wearing this one time?" because I will not. No way. No how.

But now.....

Now I am a beady eyed little hawk. Perfecting my ability to take in what someone is wearing with a mere flick of the eye. I'm keeping tabs on whether you're wearing a skirt or trousers and what colour nail varnish you've got on.

The reason?

The Dress Code.

My new work has an exacting dress-code policy, which has left no stone unturned in its quest to ensure that you are the perfect Corporate World model. As I've already mentioned, tattoos are not to be visible and body piercings have to be removed - but that's not really uncommon. But it is made very clear what you are and are not to wear.

Skirts are to be knee length and no shorter. No sleeveless tops are allowed. Tights can be blue, black, brown, grey or neutral. No patterened tights are allowed. No coloured tights are allowed. In fact, it goes as far as actually telling you that no bare legs are allowed between the 1st October and 1st May.

Nail varnish has to be subtle and un-chipped and "complement business dress" - the jury's out as to what that means.

Even the men don't escape - they're only allowed black, navy, brown or charcoal grey socks. Although somehow they are given a reprieve in that they don't have to wear a tie. Bizarre.

I was not happy when I was faced with this. Neither were ll the patterned/coloured tights and nail varnishes I have lying around. I'm not used to a dress code for work. I previously worked for a charity where the dress code was fairly relaxed. In fact, as a researcher, it would have been detrimental to data gathering in some cases if I'd turned up looking too formal. And as much as I'm ok with covering up my tattoos and taking out my tongue piercing, I do kind of resent being told I can't wear my burgundy tights. That kind of stuff is what makes me, me and I didn't want to be another Corporate Clone.

And so I watched. I observed. I saw what other people are wearing and judged how much I could get away with. I've gone from not paying attention to what people are wearing to some kind of maniac, keeping a track in my head of the different outfits people wear. 

Ultimately, I've got over it.

You're talking to someone who wore a school uniform until they were 18 (and it was a smart school uniform - all blazers and pencil skirts) and used to dread Non-Uniform Days almost as much as I did cross country. If I'm honest, I'm kind of comfortable being a Corporate Clone, I kind of like that everyone looks the same. Kind of.

And I've found ways to inject a little bit of my personality that don't involve breaking the rules. I found a nice smart work appropriate dress in Next. But I didn't buy it in navy - I bought it in pink. I don't even like pink that much - but I was making a stand. Albeit a stand I've yet to take because I'm actually a little bit nervous about wearing it to work. It's a little more "Look at me" than I would normally go with.

No this does not mean I'm about to start balancing my camera on a chair whilst I set the timer and run and try to strike a flattering post. But it does mean I might just notice you've got a nice pencil skirt on...

Of me, but not all that I am.

There have been a few things which are new to me now that I've joined the corporate world for the first time in my working life.

Apart from jobs in retail and catering, my "grown-up" working life has basically been the Third Sector and it's all I've ever known. This was followed shortly by my horrid job, which although private sector, was the crappy end of the private sector where wages are low and staff turnover is high.

This job is Corporate with a big C and it means a whole new world. Rather than working on a housing estate in Hull with people who are well-meaning but not necessarily well turned out and everyone was one big family, I'm now in a world where high heels clack along slate-tiled corridors, and, the best thing ever, a canteen with nice food and more importantly cheap food.

Living in Corporate World has meant that image is now forefront of my mind all the time. There is a dress-code and there is probably more to say on that another time but it has meant that I have had to change a couple of things about myself.

Noticeably my much loved tongue-piercing was removed on New Year's Eve as it its a no-no. And pop socks have been purchased to cover up Herbert who has the unfortunate luck of being my only visible tattoo.

I have got into some "debates" regarding the removal of my piercing and the covering of my tattoos for a job. On the whole I do think it's silly, neither of those things affect my ability to work - there merely (possibly) affect people's perceptions of me and I do think that's wrong.

However.

That's the way it is in Corporate World. Tattoos are unfortunately still seen as unprofessional and that's just that.

Am I going to give up a job for a bit of titanium I had shoved through my tongue in Affleck's Palace when I was 18 at uni? Erm.....no.

Yes my tattoos and are of me, but they are not all that I am. When I took my piercing out, was I still "me", did my personality change? No of course it didn't, I was exactly the same person funnily enough.

Maybe this comes with the confidence of age or maybe it is just the way I personally am. But my tattoos do not define me. I didn't get them for other people to see and think how cool I was and that is why it's not really any big deal to me to have them covered up. I've had them done for me, and at the end of the day when I go home, if I want to, I can look down at my feet then and say hello to Herbert (or indeed to any of my others - although the one on my back is a little hard to talk to at times).

And actually, as much as the Corporate World may judge me for having my tattoos, my bet is it's no more likely to happen than when so-called hipsters and cool dudes say to me "Wait....you have tattoos?", because I don't necessarily appear at first glance to be hip or trendy.

How very sad that those people recalibrate how they think of me once they find out I have a bit of ink on me. And I actually don't know what would offend me more - have someone think I was unprofessional because I have a tattoo or someone who decided they liked me because I do.

I don't want to be thought of us as unprofessional as much as I don't want to be put in a 'cool' box.

I'm just happy being me. And I am me. Whether you dress me up in a fancy dress or put me in a bin bag, whether you cover up my tattoos or let everyone see them - what you can't hide is me. 

Bad luck.

The commute

I should really be used to it by now. Complaining about it for the first couple of weeks seemed permissable, but now, 4.5 months in, I shouldn't really still be complaining about my daily commute.

But I do. Every. single. day. Don't get me wrong, I don't complain about it out loud, I don't talk about it with other people, but every morning, as I pull open the door to go outside I quite dramatically let out the biggest sigh known to man before beginning my daily trudge.

There are 2 things that people say when they find out that I walk 5.5 miles each day as part of my commute;

1) "What the fuck? Isn't there a bus you can get?"

Prompting me to bite my tongue and not say, "Oh my god I totally hadn't thought of that, I just do this shit for funsies."

2) At least you're getting lots of exercise.

This just makes me internally sigh again. Indeed it is exercise. It is exercise so thorough that I can no longer face doing what I really want to do for exercise, which is run. It is exercise which has thoroughly fucked up the trainers that I would be running in because they were kind of old to begin with and now I've walked something like 490 miles since I started my job they are well and truly knackered. It is exercise which has fucked up my back from carrying an ill-advised shoulder bag across my front each day. This is not the kind of exercise you want to do.

The only way I feel I can get through my commute is to split it into Parts - Three of them each way...

Part 1 & 6 - from The Docks to Preston Station 

Part 1 isn't that bad. Apart from the fact that I'm going to start another day in the hellhole I can mostly get through it by focusing on something else and making my brain focus on whatever podcast I'm listening to.

There's always a brief moment when my hopes get raised and my breath quickens slightly. This is at the prospect that I might see Jesus, my cat friend who lives on Christchurch Street, but he's rarely there and that means that the excitement is followed by a double whammy of disappoinment - no Jesus and I now have the walk up the mega hill that is that street.

I have a process for getting up it now. I count my strides and I'm not allowed to slow the pace - the strides can be smaller but the timing must remain the same. It means I'm a dab hand at walking up that hill now, extra incentive is added if I have someone to try and over-take. I try not to think about the parallels that could be drawn between walking up the hill and my feelings about the day ahead.

The return journey, also known as Part 6, is a doddle. It's the home stretch and it never ever feels like it takes that long. It always passes quickly and I'm happy to bob along until I get home. There's no resentment for Part 6, it means the end. It helps that I get to bounce down Christchurch Street after the daily trudge of going up it. I play Beat the Bus which helps me to feel smug about walking - if it passes me anywhere after the Ford garage I have officially beaten it, meaning that walking home hasn't really taken any longer which is a win in my books.

Part 2 & Part 5: The train

The best bit about my commute is the train. I get to Preston train station and walk up the stairs, my hand automatically reaching into my bag to pull out my pass to show to the staff at the top of the footbridge. For some reason they're the only people that I recognise after my 4.5 months of commuting. I should recognise people on Platform 2, I can't be the only person commuting, but for some reason I never see a familiar face.

It's only a 12 minute journey but I savour every moment of it. Each minute costs me 19p and I want to make sure that 19p counts for something so as soon as I'm sat down, the earphones are removed, the book comes out and I bury myself for the entirety of the journey. It is bliss, but is so shortlived and when I feel the train slowing to come in to Buckshaw Parkway my resentment levels start to rise, exacerbated when the train finally stops and the doors open to a sea of blank faces who crowd around the door even though common sense must tell them that until they let me off the train, they cannot come aboard.

The return journey, Part 5 of the commute, is almost the part that I don't think about that much. The train is always delayed, and I mean always. I officially started keeping track of it 1 month ago and in that 1 month the train has been on time...never. Actually never. The delay might only be 5-10 minutes, but when you're coming home (and you still have Part 6 of your commute to do) it is difficult to keep the sighing to a minimum.

I'm faced with the same blank sea of faceless morons when we come into Preston. Crowding round the doorway leaving no space for you to get off, only these people are now angry "I want to get home" commuters, rather than tired "I hate going into work" commuters.

I should be used to the stairs to the footbridge - which aren't quite high enough to comfortably walk up but aren't shallow enough to allow you to take two at a time - but I still haven't found a way of walking up them comfortably. I weave in and out of the people at the top of the bridge, fumbling around for their passes. I already have mine in my hand and again I wonder why I don't recognise any of the people, maybe I'm just too focused on starting Part 6 of the commute?

Part 3 & Part 4 - Buckshaw Parkway to work

Hell. These Parts are hell. Always. Every single day. Even though it's roughly the same distance as Parts 1 & 6 and doesn't take any longer, it drags. I feel like I'm walking and not getting any closer. When it's Part 3 it sucks because I'm tired of the commute now and yet I know I have 8 hours in the hellhole ahead of me. When it's Part 4 it sucks because it's just the beginning of yet another long commute home when all I want is to be at home already.

There is no more to say. It's just awful, the worst parts of my day.

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But in 4 more days I will do it no more and I can't tell you how that makes my heart sing.

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I know I'm not the only one that has to walk a lot each day. I know I'm not the only one that spends 2.5 hours of each day commuting. But this commute is my own personal hell and like some kind of feverish Groundhog day it has been haunting me for too long.