I’m not ‘boring’. I’m English.
Friends
Calm Down
Feb 23rd
So the last week has been insane.
I think we can universally agree that getting engaged and getting a new job in the space of two days is enough to make anyone go a little insane.
It was so nice to se the different reactions to the news of the engagement – all were very positive, although from people who know me there was quite a lot of ‘What? Bec? Engaged? Is the world ending?’ and ‘Giggling and happy and being girly? That’s not Bec! When is the real Bec coming back?’
The real Bec is here… she is just happy.
I got so (happy) stressed that my blood pressure went up and my finger swelled. We thought I was having a reaction to the ring, but, no, it seems to be a stress thing.
So, I am calming down.
Don’t get me wrong. I am still ridiculously excited and have gone a bit mad with getting hold of wedding brochures for every local hotel (I think I have chosen my reception venue) and have discussed colour schemes (I have pretty much decided that) and the pros and cons of getting married in church and… oh a thousand and one things. We have come up with a mad and wonderful idea for our invitations and, therefore, the rest of the stationery. I am going to pick up some craft materials at the weekend and try it out to see how great it looks…
The thing is the we have decided to hold off on an immediate wedding to give us enough time to save up the money we need to do it properly. We want to give each other the time to give each other the kind of day we may never have hoped to be a part of. There is certainly a part of me which is considering grabbing Neil and running for Gretna Green but then I stop and calm down. I hope that I am right in thinking that this is forever, but I am not naive enough to believe that time and all the laws of nature will leave us alone.
I am just enjoying every day that we have.
The job though. Oh… I can see some late nights just trying to understand the complexities of the nightmare that I have subjected myself to. It will all be fine, and what is life without a few challenges!
Old Friends
Dec 24th
As I write this I am on my way out the door to go and see an old friend. Christmas Eve for me is a time to remember the good in the ages and my dear friend Debs is one of the good things.
Over the years we have had our ups and downs as any good friendship has. Some, if not all of the downs caused by me and my emotional crap but we have survived. And survived well.
And this year we have something to celebrate for in less than 6 months she will be a Mrs.
I wish I had been a better friend to her over the years, and that contact had been more than just once or twice a year. I get the guilt thing and then ‘assume’ that I have left it too long but she always reminds me that forgiveness is divine and in my book that makes her godly.
I’ve only got to find my other shoe and then I really must get myself together. And then it’ll be from the pub to church and by the time I get back Christmas will be here so to all I wish that all your dreams come true, and whether you have been naughty or nice that you get whatever your heart desires both now and in the coming times.
Writing………. and things
Nov 23rd
Right, I’m a bit nervous here. I’ve never Guest Blogged before. Sure, I’ve ranted endlessly on Benignintervention (My site) and yes, I tune into Outofmytree….. Daily! I’ve probably read YOUR blog a time or two. But this guest blogging makes me quite, ermmmm well nervous!
Let’s start from the beginning. I know the literary legend that is Rebecca from High School. We were in the same Education Set (apart from maths, I can’t count.) Carr Hill High was all encompassing, and still is. Elitism is not a word that school has ever known. The previous statement is not intended to insult any individual who has attended or taught at the said institution. However, there were some teachers, who have been an inspirational guide, creating amazing results in the children who have attended.
I have a mouth, and I have always been more than capable of using it, but putting down those thoughts on paper, in a sensible pattern is something else. I obviously can’t speak for Bec but my enduring memory of Carr Hill High School was that of a man call Mr Wall……………. Most of our peers did stare at the WALL rather than listen or interact, but I know I found my passion for prose from this man. I’m sure Bec will agree, whenever she gets back from the wrong side of the Pennines, that writing is not a case of paying attention in class, or passing exams, or even divulging in dialogue. It’s having the passion to THINK!
I have spent the last three days THINKING of what to post on someone else’s blog. I don’t want to enrage anyone by posting anything even slightly inflammatory. (If you want to see that kind of thing have a look at www.benignintervention.co.uk )……… (Got my cheap advert in there, Bec!!)
I went to Parent’s evening at my daughter’s school a couple of days ago. She needs to try harder with hand writing. She is eight and left handed. Her mum and I will hear that countless times before Phoebe leaves school in eight years time. I read her books. Last week she was told to write a piece of prose including similies. She wrote a beautiful passage about her Nanna, who passed away last year.
Phoebe likened her hands to soft, warm pillows. Her eyes to dark blue pools. Her clothes to the freshest flowers anyone has seen. Phoebe wrote……As time goes by she can see these things less and less……..
She got marked down because she spelled clothes wrong, What am I thinking, what are you thinking?
Is anyone…………………………….. THINKING?
Different
Sep 26th
It was ‘another day’ today – remaining busy and getting on with things. I logged into FriendsReunited last night for the first time in forever -no idea why just felt like I should – they have updated their layout and all that – profiles are slightly better although searching is still quite hard but it does seem to be a better version of Facebook than, well, Facebook – it is still purely a service for finding the people you used to be friends with… No games, no sheep to throw, no applications of any kind… and it is free again.
Right that’s the advert over except for the news. As I logged in I saw I had a message that had arrived the same day. It was from someone I loved (as a good good friend) at uni – someone I hadn’t spoken to since (and yes I remember the date) 26th May 1999. It was just a ‘Hi… do you remember me?’ message to which I replied in equally generic ways but it felt good to reconnect to that part of my heart again.
It felt good to feel something different.
The last week has been hard but I am still getting up every morning and rushing out of the door to be confronted by skies like this…
and the bitter cold weather that is drawing in.
I had plans to spend some time with my brother this weekend. We were going to wander round shops and do lots of nothing. And now instead I am going to work. Why? Am thinking of the money.
Contact
Sep 8th
Today was a weird day. I got two emails from people I used to work with, an email from an old old old friend who I hadn’t heard from for (horrible moment of realising time is running away) about 10 years and three friend requests on Facebook from people I sort of vaguely remember in a not really way. I mean the names are familiar but the photos are not. That kind of thing.
I did the day backwards too. I was awake until 6:30 ish and then asleep until 1pm, awake until 2:30pm and the asleep until 9pm. Now, of course I am wide awake and full of beans. Well, not quite full but there is certainly a sort of washed out red bull-ishness about me.
One thing that was very odd for me was the waking at 9pm, reaching over for my MacBook and it not being there. I had taken it downstairs with the full intention of doing some work on it and then… not. I sat down with a yoghurt and watched a little news which turned into the Gilmore Girls (first day at Yale!) and then I got a little depressed and couldn’t be bothered. What is it about that show that makes you want to live everything again?!
I had a whole flashback to my first day at uni. The packing up everything I owned because I had watched far too many American shows about going to college and so took far too much stuff and then slowly took things back home at Reading week and holidays. The being totally unemotional about leaving my parents until they left and I was all alone… until my room mate arrived with her double bass (called Kermit because it was in a big green case) which took up so much room it was ridiculous and then meeting everyone else before discovering the Student Union was so much closer than we thought it was and all going over there for drinking ahoy! Sigh…
Anyway after that and dozing in the chair I got sent to bed and stayed there. Yes, this blog is becoming an indepth look at how muh I do and don’t sleep a the moment. I am sorry for that.
I have BIG intentions of catching up on blog reading tomorrow. BIG INTENTIONS.As well as huge intentions of sorting out the look of the blog. So, if you have trouble seeing it tomorrow please let me know. Email me at bec at this website’s URL.
Two Films, Many Deaths
May 24th
So, the great and wonderful BBC decided to take my weekly special time with David Tennant away to show the Eurovision Song Contest (Russia won, UK came joint last – that’s what we get for entering someone who can’t even win The X Factor) so I was facing a night in slowly drowning in my own boredom.
Then I thought about what I was going to do last night (but my leg hurt so I didn’t go) – cinema. Couldn’t decide what I wanted to see so did a little tinkling with the times on the Odeon website and figured I could see two.
I really wanted to see Indiana Jones (I know reviews all over the shop say ‘hopeless’ but I’m a sucker for Spielberg) and got there just in time. Getting to see a good trailer beforehand really helps me with the buzziness. And the one today was for The Dark Knight which I now cannot wait for.
Turns out that was the most exciting thing I was going to see in that screen.
I mean, yes, there was all the elements that made the old ones great. The humour and the chases and the excitement and the rest of it were all there and they were the same as before. And that was the problem. It was all the same as before. This film would have been a winner if it had been released in the 80s – reviews would have been jumping about extolling the wonders of the Lucas/Spielberg team. And they would have been right. For then. But now, we, the great cinema going public want and demand a little more.
And that’s exactly what I got with the next film I saw – Iron Man.
Holy God, that was a good film. I knew it was going to be full of action and heavy bass lines and adrenaline but I never expected it to be funny. And I laughed and felt good and… I have no idea how close to the original it was and I don’t really care – it was a damn good experience. I am very glad I saw it. And Robert Downey Jr? Oh how I have always loved him in things and oh how I love him in this.
So much I will probably see it again during the week.
OH I FORGOT.
The many deaths part of the title – all the people I killed because they rustled, talked, moved, coughed and slurped during the film, trailers and adverts.
No One Has To Die At 30!
Apr 10th
Yes. I have been through Carousel and have arrived in the new world.
It was a perfect quiet birthday. Work was wonderful – the lovely lovely people I work with got me a new phone
and embarrassed me thoroughly.
Home was peaceful and lovely and full of cake and wrapping paper and things.
New camera joy which I will get the hang of…
and flowers and… things.
A day spent smiling makes Bec a tired girl. Bed now. Day off tomorrow.
Thank you for the e-cards, messages, emails, pokes tweets and comments. I love you all. You make it all worthwhile.
Overprotective
Mar 27th
Today I have two** very different things to blather about. Both are contributing to the headache that I’m trying to cure with Anadin.
My little brother works in garden centre hell (a hell that has recently been bought by a big ‘blue’ supermarket chain – say no more). I’m sure I’ve mentioned this before. Quick search… Yep, thought so.
He has tried over and over again to do the job he was hired to do which is maintain and sell plants.. and do whatever is required to get that job done. He will move stoneware all day, power wash the damn centre from bottom to top, move trolleys, direct traffic in the carpark – whatever it takes. I mean, everyone has to do the crap jobs, right? But recently all of the jobs that mean my brother to come home so tired he can barely stand up or have him so angry he can barely think straight.
After one task that was assigned to him and another sales assistant, that as far as I know should never have been assigned to them (clearing a blocked drain) my brother put in a complaint about his manager – turns out this was the third complaint that had been put in about him.
My brother has Dyslexia and Dyspraxia – which means that he learns things slower than most people, but because of the person he is, he will keep at it until he gets it right. Dyspraxia is not counted as a disability under the letter of the law. He completed two years of college winning Student of the Year. You don’t do that if you don’t know your stuff. He is very successful at his Scout Leader duties an his organisational skills are first rate. It just takes him a bit to get going, and his confidence in his abilities is quite low.
Not surprising considering who he has to work with.
His idiot manager (His soon to be, if I had my way, dead ex-manager*… ) keeps treating my brother like crap. He has talked about him to other staff members in a derogatory fashion and during a meeting which my brother called to try and sort things out said “it seems like your Dyspraxia has come back”. This at the very least shows that he need re-educating (preferably with a crowbar) and also shows a total disregard for my brother’s feelings. Oh yes, very managerial. I can only assume manager boy either has no balls and is taking it out on any male in the area in a jealous rage; or he is simply a vindictive little fuckwit. If it’s the second option I will gladly help him achieve the first option too.
Adam asked to speak to the manager about moving departments with the centre, something other people have done in the recent past (also to get away from the ‘soon to be knobless twathead’) or starting a couple of hours earlier so he has to spend less time with him. Both options were denied to him. The only option that as given to him was halving his hours. HALVING HIS HOURS.
Wankers.
A customer recently called the same manager a ‘weasel’ to his face. Customers will come in and ask for Adam to help them with their queries, and if he is not there, will leave and return on a day that he is.
Who would you get rid of first?
Adam has had to talk me down from the ledge tonight. I am all for taking the day off work tomorrow and beating the ever living shite out of the management down there. Instead I have spent the last two days putting a new CV together for my brother and hunting out as many jobs as I could for him.
I’ve been in the position where the thought of going to work makes your world a dark place… I don’t want my brother to have to live there any more.
I am normally a fairly pleasant, fairly easy going, friendly individual but you hurt my brother and I will make sure you regret it.
I’ll be better soon.
*For legal reasons I would like to stipulate that I have no actual intention of causing the manager’s death, or any physical harm, but only wish it in a ‘when the revolution comes’ way. If I can cause him to be fired and be miserable every day of his life though that’ll be fine.
** Update: the other thing was about a news story I’d seen about a village in South Africa where the children have to swim cross a crocodile infected river to get to school, as someone stole the community boat. SOuth Africa are hosting the Football World Cup in 2 years. I’m saying nothing else.
Party Stress
Mar 16th
So, the mood I was in last night and what followed seem to be completely unrelated, and as a dear friend of mine would say – just another sign that I have, in fact, completely lost my marbles.
About a half hour after I posted yesterday I was wearing a dress, heels, matching jewellery and make up on. I left the house and dashed down to the site causing me a small portion of my current stress. My parent’s Silver Wedding Anniversary party. When it comes to things like this I can get a little freakish in the control of’ department. Just a little. And so so many things are not in your control (like whether or not anyone shows, whether they have a good time, will anyone be horrendously allergic to the food and die on the dancefloor therefore creating the wrong kind of memories) that I prefer to not be the one throwing the party. Attending is enough of a stress as then it’s all personal stuff (will I be the only one I know, will I end up with my dress tucked in my knickers post loo visit, will I be the only one dressed up and therefore look like a nonce in the middle of lots of hip casually dressed people?).
Anyway, I arrived, spoke to the barstaff and manager of the place we were holding it (who I’m sure think of me now as ‘crazy stresshead woman’; spoke to and paid the DJ (who seemed to know what he was doing and, I guess, was training someone else – or who had a groupie); and then downed my very first double Southern Comfort and lemonade of the night.
Several embarrassing things happened to my parents throughout the night which mortified them in many ways but they had a good time; which was the only thing that really matters; and no one died. I saw people I know in a different light. There were an extraordinary large amount of comments about the fact that I have legs and boobs from those who usually only see me in combat pants and Artificial Duck t-shirts.
The Cube, the wonderful place in Kirkham where we held the do, was MAGNIFICENT. The food, the staff, the venue, the whole kit and kaboodle were excellent and if, anyone is looking for someone to hold an event, do it there. Do it there, oh, do it there.
Next year I get to host two more parties – Dad’s 60th and Mum’s 50th. Lovely.
But, yes, I am sorry for yesterday. 10 more days to ‘results’ day and 25 days until 30. I can feel Carousel approaching…
Which Dice Again?
Mar 5th
The news that Gary Gygax, co-creator of Dungeons & Dragons, has died has made me think about things I haven’t in a long time.
A few years ago, when I was going through a massive bout of depression, living hour to hour was the most I could do and a group of crazy but wonderful people took me in to their lives and helped me out.
I was a mess. I trusted no one and nothing, including and especially myself. I did some things I wasn’t proud of and, well, let’s just say I didn’t like myself very much. I was hiding myself from the world so being introduced to lots of new people was hard… and easy at the same time. It was hard as I felt like I had to hide myself, and easy because I could hide myself and become a new person (Yes, we all know how well that goes – but I thought I’d give it a go!)
When I was told that this new group of people role-played I’ll admit a little apprehension… visions of… well, I had no idea… but certainly not books and dice and character sheets with hundreds of numbers on that indicated how good your character was at ‘bluffing’ and ‘hiding’ and ‘swimming’ and everything else… And then MORE numbers on the front with armour ratings and weapons and things. Books filled with spells and more statistics. It just seemed like the complicated version of Top Trumps ever.
But then, watching these people become their characters was astounding. The quiet ones became confident assassins and the burly males became women. It was fascinating. My character – a psychotic sorcerer child – was introduced and I kind of just went with it. I had no idea what I was doing with the dice and tried to avoid using the numbers as much as possible. I was there for the story. It was like a mad Improv Drama class and I loved it while it lasted.
I have been writing the tales of my character (broken free of the bonds of the game) on and off for years but it may be time to really get down and write them. I think that was one of the reasons I enjoyed playing the game so much – not the battles and the ‘levelling’ but the loss of self in the character. That’s the thing I enjoy about writing fiction so much and one thing I must get back into doing.
