Another Monday Morning

 That is how I reacted this morning as I woke to face another hard days work.  I have rattled through another long list of things that required doing badly, and as such I went on to do them all badly.  The last time the place was this clean I had just moved in.

Funnily enough, if you find this funny, the reading for yesterday, Zephaniah 1, was all about the day of judgement coming unexpectedly.  It would fall on Jerusalem and this could be read as the actual last day of earth also.  This fitted well with the looming Landlord approaching.  

My day was not encouraged by seeking out some old items on the 1/5th Essex regiment.  One of the lassies grandfather served with them and I sought out a piece that may be of interest.  There were several things, so I edited them, posted them on a 'Word' page, and added a longish piece discussing their deeds in the middle east.  

I then clicked the 'X' button, and it all disappeared!

I use a different writing system usually, and that would ask if I wished to save or not, 'Word' did not ask and it went!  I thought it may have gone to their store in the sky, but no.  So, having edited this for around an hour and a half I then had to do it all again.  I was pleased.  

The longish item was new to me, I could not remember this from before.  It was as I read it, the bad English showing up well, that I realised I wrote it.  The mistakes were eradicated, the spelling also amended, and in the end I was pleased somewhat with the material I had plagiarised. 

So, off it went and soon I may get a reply offering threats.  Women can be so touchy...

What else happened?

Nothing...

Work!

 

It's been a busy day.

The warning came yesterday by email from the landlord.  'We are doing a house visit next Wednesday.' 

My mind is already full of conspiracy theories as to why this is happening now.  Is this because they are thinking of selling up?  I know he is unwell and not keen on continuing.  Is this a ruse to increase rents, for me and at least one other?  Is this because the young plumber last week considered my loo a disgrace, and now wishes to redo it for a fee?  Who knows.

This did mean that I must now do all those little jobs that I have ignored and hoped to leave until March or thereabouts.  So out this morning for paint, and half the window frames have been dobbed this morning to hide the mess left by Jack Frost and his mates.  The broken bits will soon be glued back together, and the loo tidied up, to some extent anyway.

Chocolate must be left 'lying about' as a bribe, ' For the grandson,'  As this is always difficult for a woman to refuse.   So, I must paint, glue, clean, and bow the knee, and hope to find out what is going on.  Funnily enough, I awoke this morning with a 'feeling' that I was going to move.  Clearly this is not trustworthy, but you never know.  The moving I did today will offer me more strained muscles in the morning when I return to finish what I started today.  

Up on the Roof

Having spent an energy filled day weeding the front and attempting to clear up the mess left behind by neighbours who have left leaving their remnants behind, packed mostly in plastic bags yet spilled across the waste space, I had little energy to do anything else last night.  Add to this a little item I eventually finished for the museum re the armistice, it has taken three months, and what brain cells I have left were not functioning either.  For reason hard to comprehend the TV people failed to feature any football leaving me with no respite from my aches thus forcing me to climb upon the roof and howl at the moon.
This indeed made me feel a lot better but did not do much for the old lass in the bungalow next door who switched off all the lights and locked all the windows and doors loudly.  It must have been loud as the noise from all the dogs in the neighbourhood barking at the same time create what some call ' noise nuisance.'
I must confess I was a little stiff once again this morning when I had to attend to all the visitors by myself, my associate having flown off to Corfu for yet another holiday.  I realise that having retired and having some money to burn it is right for them to make the most of the years they have left, in her condition we do not know how many, but my couple of days in Bournemouth look weak in comparison to their world travels.  Not that there is any jealousy in any way, no siree!   
I might seek that moon again tonight.

I wonder if this bird understand the situation in the nation?  Sitting there in the sun in the late evening, resting from the labours of attending to her mate, stuffing her face and er, that's it, she now sits there high above the world allowing the fading sun to warm her before bedtime.  Do these birds not know we have an inept government?  Do they not realise we have no opposition?  Do they not realise the state of the nation?  They will find out soon enough for within a year most of the population will be eating the worms and grubs they are living off when Brexit comes in and the economy collapses.
Oh dear, I am back off onto the roof...

Memory of Times Past...

Have you ever wondered what happened to all those folks you once knew.  The neighbours of your childhood, folks at school, those early jobs?  It surprised me somewhat to consider that the girls in my memory, the ones who used to throw themselves at men, are now well into their 60's and 70's, many are into their 90's if they still survive.  I wonder what became of them?  I expect that when I moved on they found it hard to contain their grief, this of course might be a misunderstanding on my part, but what did they do afterwards?  The nurses in the hospital could not remain their forever, it was demolished some years later, their careers as high powered nurses could get them work anywhere at the time and some were, others would soon be married or paired off and are they now glowing grannies with a pack of kids troubling them?  
Clearly some from that time would be dead long since, this tends to happen I find.  I first entered the strange world of work in 1966 and few from those days would remain now.  The management were at least in their 40's, the big boss almost 60, and many of the workers in the whisky bond were far from young, today the remnants will be in their 70's at least.  The next job also only lasted a year, and I was lucky in that, but few of those will survive today, I wonder how they fared.

This huge building was the brewery in which I lodged and grew up over some four years.  Here the girls threw themselves at me also but there again those girls threw themselves at anything male so that really doesn't count.  It is funny how memory of such people is crystal clear, except names, few names remain.  Incidents, good and bad, abound and sometimes I wonder what happened to the folks there who were so good to me, they gave me enough money for a single ticket to London when I left in 1971, hold on...!
Interestingly, yes it is, almost all those places I worked over the past century no longer exist!  Almost all are large blocs of flats, as here, or housing estates of some sort.  This reflects something of the changed industrial landscape of the nation.  So many factories I once knew have gone, production now in China or Bangladesh instead.  Leith, wherein I first worked had many whisky bonds, most are now blocks of flats for the gentry.  Even the rough Leith docks pubs now supply staff called 'Rory, ' if you understand my meaning.  That would not have worked in the 60's. 
I miss many of the girls from the hospital, the men would be long dead mostly being in their 50's then, I suspect most died by 1990, the result of smoking early on and the usual age concern diseases.  It s strange to think I left Maida Vale in 1982, which is 36 years ago, and even the loveliest lass will be near 70 now.  When working there I pondered those who had passed that way before and were soon forgotten, how few remember us even if we are 'stalwarts' of an organisation for many years.  Only the famous doctors are remembered and even then the memory fades.
Jings I'm feeling moody tonight.  Where is the whisky bottle...?

A Hard Days Work...

Another hard day at work over.  
I say 'hard' but much of that was due to being asleep when I arrived just before ten.  It was incredibly difficult to waken this morning and coffee did not help.  Only when the cleaner man was leaving and stopped to chat did the adrenalin kick in.  Had he not stopped I may well have drifted into stupor and fallen under the desk.
However as we spoke a lad did arrive asking for information re maps.  This was more interesting than the exhibition.  The trouble with maps I find is that once I begin looking at them I cannot stop.  For some reason pouring over an old map from fifty or so years ago is really interesting.  I just did it now to ensure Old Maps had the map I thought he was looking for and I almost forgot myself again.  So much has change since 1961, the basic layout is similar but so many changes within that have occurred.  Change is not always good but it is inevitable.  Last time I looked at my old part of Edinburgh on Google Maps I was shocked to see the changes, some things have been there for years and have disappeared!  Other things remain the same but that is not always a good thing.  

Then followed an hour, or so it seemed like, with a woman wishing to talk about her dead relative.  He was one who fell during the Great War and this lass was supposed to arrive several months ago but chose not to.  Today she turned up unannounced for a chat re the letters and material concerning her forebear.  As the curator was elsewhere I was with her for a while and made clear I wanted all she had, but of course the curator decides whether we can or cannot hold such as this.  Once the two chatted for ten minutes, well about thirty as she can talk this lass, she can talk, it was decided she ought to discuss with the Records office and the Regimental Museum what they thought about it all.  Naturally I told her lies re the record office mice, the museums lack of care and that WE ought to have this stuff, especially me.  However after discussion she has arranged meetings with the others and I strongly suspect the material, letters, stories, medals, etc, will be with us soon.  I hope so or the curator will hear about this.
By the time all this had finished it was time to go home.  Such a hard life...

 

Walk?

This is a story of a postman who used to walk around the villages north of the town.  He retired in 1833 having felt the job was beginning to get too much for him.  I am not surprised! 
"From May 1803, at 4 days a week till Oct1811, then until 1833 at 6 days a week, absent but 5 days with permission, 5 off sick. He walked 26 miles a day round the villages for 8,673 days, all 225,498 miles. Now 54 feeling himself declining and not equal to the task he retires."
Samuel Wyatt, walked from Braintree to Rayne, Saling, Bardfield, Finchingfield, and Weathersfield.  Simple enough today in the days of the motor car polluting the air but this walk does not take into account the state of the road, mostly mud tracks, nor does it mention the weather, hot in summer freezing cold and or wet in winter.  In between the villages and houses here and there would be little shelter during a storm.  Of course the villages were less well populated and the majority were if not in shops or skilled trade working on the farm and the amount of letters and parcels would therefore not be great.  However he still had to do the walking, up hill and down slope, day after day.  
I am sure he was fed and watered along the way, there are many pubs he had to visit and summer time must have seen him spend a penny or two in those places, however I suspect anything he drank there may be free and a jolly good place to rest awhile.
Today such places are divided between several postmen, each with his own van and with less chance of drinking time between villages.  One village a few years ago saw the postman walk ten miles around the village and the houses slightly apart, another that I delivered to took the postman in days gone by one bag and a long walk.  When I done that walk it took four heavy bags of around 20 kilos and today that also is done by van, the villages grow as fast as the towns.
This postman's job has similar conditions to many of that time, and he probably thought he was doing well as he was outside and master of his own work to some extent.  Those in factories would work 12 hour days, men, women and child, for a few shillings a week.  Not all employers were careful about their employees and keeping a job was not always easy.  Yet 96 or more hours a week was a common sight right up to near the end of the 19th century, around the world this is still a common sight in some places.
After he retired he got a certificate for good behaviour and as a memento, nothing is said about a reward.  I wonder what he did after that?  Did it involve walking?  He retired at 54 from the GPO as it then was and how long did he live afterwards?  He must have retained fitness for some time and I wish I knew more about him.  I had a quick search but he does not appear to have been born or died!  At least the post got through.

 

Joyful Return to Work

The day of depression descended on the town gently this morning.  The deep red sky, much brighter than I have seen for a while rose with the sun and disappeared by the time I grudgingly left the house.  Those forced back into reality after the Christmas period slogged along to work, shops, museums or wherever their steps were leading them, few with a cheery smile on their face.  It was easy to understand their reasoning.  The early brightness reflected against their blue thoughts as the populace reset their minds for the real world.
I have already been informed by one rough Leith type that Scotland is still on holiday and many football matches are shortly under way.  I am about to watch one on BBC Alba and regret that down here in the wilderness of England we have to return while sensible people are still on New Years holiday.  I am not one to complain you understand...

In spite of the threat of rain, high winds and another named 'storm' I proceeded eagerly to the museum where in spite of my aching knees removing Christmas was made compulsory.  This meant clambering on unstable stool to reach high up, without once complaining, and dismembering the plastic Christmas tree, an ungodly Easter European pagan symbol.  
Nothing else, outwith abuse from certain staff members, occurred until many minutes past noon when someone came in!  She had a query, soon dumped upon the boss, and then proceeded t spend money, I smiled keenly at this.  Two other figures appeared in the doorway, glanced at the many leaflets and went away.  All this to the joyful sound of non Christmassy music which has filled our ears for several weeks.  I choose music fitting the exhibition, an album re 1970 music and the Beatles White Album.  
The world returns to normal once again.  Next week all the schools will be back, most will have forgotten Christmas, the weather will be dreich, and life with broken new year resolutions will return to the same state it was in a few days ago.
Oh yes and tomorrow Scotland suffers depression and blues as they return to work.  Hee hee!

A Hard Day's Work in the Heat!

Wearing nothing but a pair of aged shorts and tying a notice reading "Please give water or beer" round my neck I made my way to the museum.
I was sent home!
Venturing forth dressed in a manner considered more worthy by my snooty superiors I returned not caring to mention the large fan blowing a gale in their office while no such apparatus was made available to me.  Referring to the shop as the 'Gobi Desert' brought no relief in spite of the doors being wide open until Peggy my hard working colleague (she reads this!) arrived.  As we downed our first gallon of tea/coffee/water and fanned ourselves with handy brochures that lie about we awaited the hordes of people barging through the door.
None came.
So I wandered off to chat up discuss important issues with the curator as she made enough coffee for herself to fill a MacDonalds outlet for a day.  I know she needs to keep awake but really!
Work arrived and my friend was ordered out into the searing heat (I had to mind the shop you see) to deliver posters and leaflets of the upcoming exhibition to shops that would display them for us.  I handled the crowds that came when she had gone.  
Both young ladies who arrived were very competent and pleasant, most are when I chat to them.
On returning it was found more leaflets required delivering, naturally I offered but was refused permission to do so by her indoors.  Poor Peggy had to once more bear the heat of the day though I noticed she managed to take her time and do her shopping while delivering. 
I therefore was left alone to deal with a bus load that came on a visit elsewhere in town and dozens of old women lassies arrived to wander throught the exhibition.  Each offered a £5 note for a £3 entrance with no consideration to our lack of £1 coins!!!!  Not that I am one to complain but wimmen...!

It is difficult at 4a.m. to get a decent pic of the moon when looking through a wndow at a tight angle....
Tomorrow is the Longest Day of the year and from then on the nights close in, innit it a horrible thought!  Half way through the year already.  Christmas adverts will start appearing soon!

However it remains like Aussieland here, I'm off to stand beside the fridge....

Still Nothing Happened

Quite why people make resolutions which they are not going to keep amazes me.  Those who decide to diet and succeed do so by great effort of willpower and we know how easily that is lost.  The decision not to decide on a resolution is however one I have managed to keep year after year.

Wandering down the road this morning I was concentration on avoiding the puddles as the rain began once again and failed to notice the bog police dog handlers van I was walking in front off.  I kept going but his face expressed a degree of surprise I thought. 
Soaked by the time I reached the church I was glad the heating was on to dry me out.  I am getting to like this strange Anglican Kirk, in spite of their foibles and the many mistakes that routinely occur.  In fact it seems to my way of thinking to make the place more homely rather than inept.  These are everyday human beings who have been found by Jesus not the perfect kinds who sometime appear on the screen.  I am beginning to like them and developing some things about me that need improvement.  I think however the 'Wee Frees' will never let me through their door if I am ever back up in the rain soaked land.
Talking of which I hurried home in the downpour to see the St Johnstone v Aberdeen game - this was postponed - the pitch was waterlogged!!!!

As is normal Scotland takes two days at New Year, with Friday being the first that means Monday is a day off for the majority of people.  Here in the soft south they do not do this and tomorrow, the fourth, is for the peoples around me a 'back to work' experience.
Groans can be heard from neighbours, screams emit from houses around the place as recognition of the end of the week long break has ended comes home to roost.  Alarm clocks are being set alongside some words best kept from children, and work outfits are being laid out in places where they can be found in the early morning darkness.  
I however will be remaining at home.  (Insert smug grin here)
Now I have nothing against work, I was involved in one way or another in such activity for around forty years, and take pleasure in watching others perform such work always willing to offer advice on how the job should be done exactly.  Such aid is not always considered helpful I note, still it's a giggle innit?
If the weather is good I might cycle past the industrial estate and wave cheerily at anyone I know.  If not I will just stand at the window early on and wave my coffee cup at passersby, that usually brings a response, especially when it's raining.
"Ah well," said Zebedee, "time for bed."

Renovation

The Death Trap Whisky Bond

For some reason today I contemplated my first job, way back in 1966 before you were born, and made the strange discovery that almost all my previous workplaces had disappeared!  The whisky bond where I singularly failed to make any impression moved shortly afterwards outside of Edinburgh. The death trap building itself may well stand down the bottom of Leith Walk but I have no idea if it remains in use.  Wooden floors, stairs and tons of cardboard boxes mixed with a vat of whisky and thousands of bottles of the stuff do not enable Health & Safety men to sleep at night.  Having departed before being encouraged to leave I moved to Slateford Road where a company making biscuit tins and their plastic inserts paid me almost £6 a week to prove I was not cut out for that job. The company realised that making the inserts was more profitable than the tins and last I heard were developing that side of the business.  The do not exist today.

W&P

Today a modern housing development that greased somebody's hand stands there.  In the modern world 15 and 16 year old's seldom find employment, the government keeps them at school to avoid paying them dole money, but in the past companies throughout the land were employing feckless youth who took the money, chatted up the women unsuccessfully and offered little in return, at least that's what the company secretary told me with an uncompromising stare.

Shortly after this conversation I found work at the brewery.

Tenents Heriot Brewery

Here I remained almost four years, enjoyable years at that.  The work was not difficult, even I could do it, the women threw themselves at me, well if you used a can or two of 'Husky Export' that is, and when my life changed I departed for London and a new life.  The people, almost all of whom I actually got on with, gathered together sufficient funds to pay a one-way train ticket to London for me.  Wasn't that nice?  Now the one time brewery, not far from Tynecastle Park home of the world famous Heart of Midlothian, is a block of overpriced flats.  So that's three jobs where the company has found the premises demolished after I left.  This cannot go on can it...?

After a year of London life, where I found a church where Jesus would speak to me and a job with a charity rehousing folks, I came back to what appeared to be old fashioned Edinburgh, well it was 1972!  The shops shut at five in the evening whereas in London they stayed open longer and one worked 24 hours! After a few months away it seemed so boring to a 20 year old.  I was employed eventually at a Cash & Carry where I happily upset people daily.  Deciding to do something a bit more worthy I embarked on a healing career by joining the Royal Infirmary as an orderly.  Here I was so good the other wards attempted to head hunt me!  I wish they had!  While happy at the time I discovered just how difficult women could be to work with.  Until then I had found no trouble working however in this ward bitchiness from the sister towards her superiors and to her nursing staff did not enable a happy atmosphere.  The patients, even the female ones were better behaved, there again I suppose Sister had the needles!  I returned to the Cash & Carry for another year or two.  Both the Royal Infirmary and the Cash & Carry have been redeveloped!  That's five jobs and five redevelopments, so far.  Naturally I should add the building we resided in while working for the charity London no longer operates as we did.  Our 'Hippy' like approach did not go down to well and that place is now someones home.  The organisation has become another council and who knows what goes on with them today!  The old hospital now has many grand flats, for the rich.  

In 1975 it was important to return to that church in London.  This meant leaving the family that I missed, especially those lovely nieces, how hard that was, and found a few months work in a highways depot in Finchley.  That is now a small housing estate.  After a few months I moved to a slum in Swiss Cottage, since redeveloped, and worked at Maida Vale Hospital for several years. 

This was my best ever employment.  Whether the others agree I know not but this place still appears in my dreams at times.  Happy place to work, something new each day and the people on the whole good to me.  Working amongst the long term sick and others dying gives a differing view of the world.  On occasion this place appears in my dreams and I suspect appear in the ladies dreams also.....what..oh!  The hospital is now a block of flats.

Sadly my long years which followed at Selfridges, in the vans, warehouse and then dreadful office, did not result in the stores imminent collapse.  Maybe I was unnoticed there?  Running from that dead end to temp work and eventually I escaped to the wilderness of Essex.  Here those who employed me know about it.  One closed the warehouse and moved, actually two did that.  One almost collapsed but thanks to cost cutting, e.g dumping staff, survived and one was badly run then collapsed, one lost the account and died and Royal Mail has been sold off in a disgraceful manner and soon will become like the private energy companies, greedy, expensive and out of control. 

How strange I find that so many places that once saw me wandering about in a dream no longer exist.  Was it ever thus I wonder.....?  

.

Danger Day

Maybe it's the ever present tiredness that never seems to leave me, maybe it's just being cack-handed, or there again it may just be my luck but today did not go well.  


It started late, I awoke at ten past five, closed my eyes as the 'shipping forecast' was read on the wireless and next thing I knew it was seven!  I stumbled into the kitchen fried tomatoes and the mushrooms that were growing on them and microwaved an omlette.  This took forever as I had forgotten to turn the cooker on.  Eventually my cold toast finished and crumbs filling every crack in this laptop, the phone rang.  For some strange reasom nine o'clock had arrived before I was ready and some spammer was already attempting to sell me something.  I ignored them and let the ansafone take care of it, no message was the reply.  I dialed 1471 to get their number and trace the call but they did not leave one, a spammer!  However I noticed some marks on the phone, the handset batteries were leaking like a tap!   Considerable time later the mess was cleaned up, on the phone, the desk,the laptop - me!  At least the desk is considerably cleaner, although things now fall through the hole.   


As I had to go into the walled city for no good reason I prepared carefully my duties so as to have as little time there as possible.  Naturally this was not to be.  Having managed to stay awake sufficiently to leave the train at my stop, rather than end in down by the coast where I would rather be, although being in Clacton on Sea would not be my first choice of coastal town to reside in (ankle chains and white stiletto's, and that's just the men!), I trooped off via the park and watched life slowly traipse by in the gloom.  At least the rain only threatened, then stopped and this summers gray cloud cheered us no end.  As I made for my destination a man walking the other way grumbled about the papers strewn all over and around a park bench, although I was not sure what I should do about it.  I noticed that he grumbled about those responsible but made no effort to collect the stuff and put it in the bin himself.  Hmmm.


Forced to huddle in a side room with a hundred other layabouts until the lovely Alison sorted things out I was then presented with a PC that suffered much!  The screen resolution was so small I could only see it by leaning right up against it, the window light reflected blocking what I could see, and it would not work!  My neighbour had his working, up to a point, but at least he could read his!  Once we managed to get started the printer would not print.  Both of us, and several others, sent much to the printer and nothing arrived.  The PC's were set to a differing machine.  Somewhere in that building hundreds of wasted sheets of paper are at this minute piling up on the floor.  What were we doing there?  Almost all of us claimed we do more at home.  All of us thought we were wasting time here, and that it cost this company cash it would be better advised spending on an upgrade of the computer system. However these 'Work' programmes are running into a problem. They make money when the 'client' gets a job he keeps for six months. There are three million unemployed and 400,000 vacancies. Most on this programme are the ones nobody wants. Like me some are unfit, some old, some unskilled and some ex-prisoners, not the first you would choose when employing someone from several hundred applications. The course is meant to help but there are just too few jobs, now this programme are getting worried. Conned by this government they are losing cash like water flooding folks houses and there is no improvement in sight. I wasted my time there, got out as quick as I could, and made it home without falling asleep onto the tracks.




I put the chips in the oven as I couldn't be fagged to do anything else and forgot the frying pan and oil therein was lying on the bottom of the oven. I type this with a thin haze all around, the windows open to clear the air, an unfortunate aroma clinging to everything, and suspect that as the night is young still more can go wrong.




I'm off to bed......




Oh good, the kids opposite have their music on, 'Rap' (with a capital 'C') or that dum dum dum stuff I wonder? That's the advantage the States has in such situations, guns! Bah!







.

Camulodunum

Camulodunum was very cold today, in spite of the weather man claiming the cold snap was lessening.  Here we see the wall forming the first defensive barrier.  Behind the land slopes up to where I suspect another barrier once stood.  Well it would have had I anything to do with it!

Not exactly straight!  Age has indeed wearied this wall which has lasted many years.

 

The variety of stones includes many slim red tiles.  These are Roman bricks I believe but I am too busy to check it out and I wonder if this forms part of the wall created as part of the new defences after Boudicca's revolt. 

   

Can you make out the thin layer of ice that lies on top of the river?

I wondered what this was at first.  The design and brickwork was typical 1950's and must have appeared very modern at the time.  It forms part of the Fire Station and while I am unsure as to whether it is a chimney or part of the training routine I found it strangely atmospheric of its time!

I was amazed by the lamp standards in this area.  Very dated and very badly maintained.  Much more attractive than the concrete type that appeared in the 50's, or would be if painted once again.

My meeting there was once again with a different person.   Yet another has walked off to tour the world and I am now on my fourth worker, and I suspect this will change to another next time I trundle along there.  Still this lass has plenty of common sense and a great deal of the females normal attitudes, she nagged me, browbeat me and was totally unreasonable in her demands!  However I am much encouraged by the news that the employment situation will worsen and 'bosses are losing staff' claim the press.  It did not mention where they lose them however.

.

Sympathy

.

ETC

Naturally I have had little sympathy during my 'Man Flu' experience. Although I found this site very helpful with that :- Man Flu   Only today I was forced, against my better wishes, to visit the dole office and pretend I was seeking work. Sympathy extended to such things as being told to "Breathe in the other direction," and "Don't e-mail me, I might catch a virus." A resounding "Bye" and a waving of papers in my direction ended my short visit. Good job I am not one to complain. 

AnnaRacoon

The answer to unemployment is to start your own business. Great idea, but when this is put forward people tend to forget to mention how many such starter jobs fail within three years, if indeed they last that long. The answer is for bigger companies to be encouraged to employ folk. There appears to be nothing around that will let that happen. Two and a half million unemployed yet no jobs being created, bar short term ones in the east end for the Olympics in 2012.  Are you as excited as I about these games? I am as excited as Matt in the Daily Telegraph!  

.

So Another Day at Work Finishes...

So another day at work finishes, well my second two hour stint this week, and with it my little job comes to an end.  While it was not much to boast about, and I am so slow that snails sometimes passed me by as I went to work, at least it gave me the impression that I was working. Now I am back to being a dole scrounger and a lazy workshy parasite (@ 'Daily Mail reader'). The company has 'outsourced' the warehouse because, as they put it, "The warehouse is not working!" What they meant was, "It's too expensive." Some of the lads have already moved on, and the rest leave this week however a problem has arisen. It appears the people taking over the warehouse, based somewhere in the Midlands, are struggling to get things working there also! What appeared a good thing monywise has turned out to be harder in reality. Hundreds of items are not that easy to deal with, especially when many of them look similar and some are very small! Cynical folks laughed, and were shocked to be asked to stay on, they have refused. I ought to indicate I was not asked to stay.....


Tomorrow I will continue the search for employment of a sedentary nature, requiring little intellect and paying me untold wealth! As I have already attempted this with almost every company in a ten mile radius I am somewhat dubious of success. There are around 300 jobs in this area and three thousand unemployed! Take away several hundred unable or unwilling and there is still a problem. Even working a few hours a week was good for making me feel less guilty when sitting around loafing (@'Daily Mail' reader). Receiving the first payslip since Adam was a boy was such an experience I considered placing it on the wall! Now this has ended and I am back to lounging about in pubs drinking all day (@'Daily Mail' reader) as I will be receiving about £32,000 a year, plus house, for the eight children I possess (@'Daily Mail' reader). Now I don't wish to appear cynical, as you know that is not my nature, I am gentle and quiet usually and not one to complain, but I do get somewhat irked by the attitudes of the "I'm all right Jack" types.


So I must sit down and look at all my talents.
Right that's that done so let's move on to the next phase, this includes lying on the floor crying, "Why me?" loudly and repetitively.  This doesn't actually help, but it keeps the Jehovah Witnesses away from the door I suppose. Then I shall exercise my aching bones,(four hours work and I feel like I have climbed the Matterhorn) clean the house, open the windows, and throw out the rubbish, that bag does pong a bit after a month - or so....  Then I shall sit down and ponder the good piece of luck that came my way today. The 'Beef & Ale' pie that costs about 50p from Iceland, the store not the country, actually contained a piece of meat! Now when I the last time you found real meat in a pie? Note I said 'meat' and not 'beef,' as you never know do you.....?

.

Wednesday Joy

.

So, sluggishly pushing aside the ageing ex-army blankets I entered the world as fresh as a daisy, albeit one that had experienced a very rough night. After a gallon of coffee I headed for what I refer to these days as 'work.' I clambered aboard the rusting bike and headed down the pavement towards the corner thirty yards from my door. I sniffed the air, I noticed the sun, I appreciated the warmth on my feeble body, I observed the bright blue of the sky, I ran into three policemen!
Just as I reached the corner three of the boys in blue (well one was female but often it's hard to tell isn't it?) arrived at the same time as I, and I met them head on! I suddenly forgot everything and the conversation, which was was polite, almost friendly, as I blabbered stupidly while they beat the life out of me. "Just for practice you understand," said the leader, an experienced and possibly senior, officer. I gathered the remains of my limbs, thanked them profusely for not giving me the ticket, three tickets one suggested, and raced off slowly to 'work.'


Entering in my usual cheery manner I greeted the two ladies sitting at reception, the sour faced bint I noticed was not there today, possibly at home practising her early menopause I suspect, and greeted the men in the warehouse in similar cheery manner. They as yet do not comprehend me as others do so there were no remarks informing me where I could place my cheeriness, there was however a bad air. This is partly caused by the drain near the door, it is mostly caused by the bad news. This news I heard last week, the place is closing down! The company, who have only recently moved here, have decided to 'outsource' their warehouse. 'Outsource' is another way of saying 'getting another to do it cheaper.' There is no doubt the warehouse is a bit of a muddle, and there is no surprise that money is a problem after their recent move here. However while several of the boys will find work elsewhere, many are 'agency temps' anyway, others will end up like me, old and unwanted! Naturally the 'suits' are saying little. If they could it would make things worse, and as it is a 'suits' mindset not to say anything unless it is required, nothing is said. Result, no-one is sure of anything!
When I started I noticed a problem, now understanding it I feel bad for the ones that will lose out. The whole operation is planned for a week or two ahead, yet silence is what is heard, an no news is indeed bad news for morale!. Two weeks before they become unemployed, unwanted and kicked out onto the street, while po-faced receptionist will most likely keep her face furrowed on the four days she actually shows up.
This of course means my job will end, and I do not know when! Marvellous! I sit here with limbs aching because no pretty girl will massage them for me, debts so high George Osbourne (the Chancellor) has offered to help me budget (No thanks Georgie!) and an energy loss that equals that of a Rangers player called upon to represent Scotland!
Still, as I always say, it could be worse, I could be English!

After reading this I may go in for an 'Idiot of the week' award, well I would but I might win it myself of course. This idiot was forced by his screaming wife and terrified kids to act the 'hero.' His job was to get the spider from behind the loo and remove it, or the family would be constipated by dawn!
Now normal folk would get a bit of card and chase the brute from it's (is it male or female and how do you tell?) hiding place. Not our hero. Maybe it is because it was late,maybe it is because he is an IT expert and more used to staring at spiders on the web (get it?), or possibly it was because he lives in Clacton (IT expert in Clacton?) where stiletto heels and ankle chains still abound among the Essex Girls there, but our hero went for the dramatic solution. He fired an aerosol spray, some sort of deodorant (BRUT probably) and then, for reasons of his own, lit a cigarette lighter to see if the spider had gone.
Naturally it exploded!
Burns to fingers, ambulance to hospital, 'Daily Mail' for photograph. (And how come this is in the 'Daily Mail' I ask? Do you get paid for blowing yourself up stupidly these days?). A small story to show that the stupidity of the Essex Man never dies, even when an IT expert!


.

Rain

.

My stiff and somewhat aching muscles carried me off to work this morning just as the rain was ending. Once again my thoughts were full of the 'fact' that I live in the 'driest county in England!' It is funny how often I consider this 'fact.' When I was a postman this was a 'fact' that would run through my minds quite often. Because of this I always checked the weather forecast on Anglia TV each night. The personable, pretty, young lassies, would smile as they indicated downpours here, there and everywhere. They still do this today. I recall the lass one evening informing us that there may be "A shower or two" the next day. How right she was. It began just on 6 am and continued, non stop, until just after 12 noon!  This 'shower,' came straight down in large drops without letting up at any time during the day. I wondered at one point if Anglia TV weather girls had invented the 'Driest county in England' phrase when on a 'girls night out' in Norwich one time. Now this was bad enough but as I, and my friend John, stood dripping in the entrance, the manager, coffee cup in hand, giggled like a schoolgirl while we two sodden creatures stood dishevelled before him he suddenly exclaimed "Look! It's stopping, I can go home now!" He was right!  Through the door we could see the end of the thick gray cloud, a following silver lining, and acres of blue sky behind! As we removed our rain garb, saturating everything around, the manager cheerily made his way home accompanied by our good wishes. Today thankfully the rain dispersed, until I had to go outside for another bin, thanks very much, and was kind enough to stay off while I made my weary way home. Two hours work and I am worn out! In days past I would do a 54 hour week regularly, and for poor money at that! Where does all that energy go I wonder? I need it now!

.

Work

.

So I have got into this work business now. I turn up, spend two hours clearing the mess left by the packers, dump it in the skips provided, and go home. Tomorrow I will do the same once again! Then take the rest of the week off and return for two more days next week. This appears to some like an easy option, but not to one who has been unemployed so long. The mere physical effort of clearing the boxes, flattening them, filling the bins, and walking around all combine to make my bones creak and my muscles ache. There is certainly that wee pain in the knee showing itself, as I suspected it might, but this is something that can be borne for a while yet. The rest of my body needs the routine and physical exertion, that knee can endure a while.

This however is actually good! I am enjoying this as it gives me the impression that I am back in the real world, and is making me fit once again, well up to a point that is. Two hours work on Monday followed by two more on Tuesday is not much, but my ageing unused body has become very slack and this is a good way to exercise the flab. Believe me there is a bit of 'flab' about these days. I also walk around without the guilt feeling that hangs about the unemployable. This is a great relief. I know the 'Daily Express' readers glare as I pass by, although I wonder what they did to get the rewards that they have obtained. Cynical fellow that I am I can imagine the many weird and wonderful ways they have gathered their rewards!  However I am glad of the work, a small step maybe, and now I need another part time, and much more leisurely, job to fill up the bank account and frighten the credit card.


 Funnily enough I feel knackered tonight.

.

Worn Out

.

Twice this week I have cycled out to a nearby warehouse to help clear up the mess they are in. For a mere two hours, yes two hours a day I have wandered around flattening cardboard boxes and generally tidying the place up. This is a company that has dropped a number of staff yet found itself getting busier. This means the warehouse, actually well organised but in a mess through sheer industry, is creating a H&S problem, and a sheer practicable one for the pickers and packers as they wade thought fallen boxes, some full many empty, to fulfil their tasks. Therefore the cheap option is to bring in someone aged, desperate for a few hours work, and willing to happily wander around flattening the boxes and moving it in the huge bins provided. So twice I have spent two hours doing this, and now, after four hours work I cannot move anything anymore without aching everywhere! Not working, lacking exercise, and being as fit as a ten day old corpse, has revealed me to be less fit than even I thought. I stretch, I hot bath, and just await the girl from the Cambodian all night tanning salon to come around and massage my knees back into their proper place. However, the tiredness I feel, what some dafties call 'good tiredness' is hanging over me and I may not be able to stay aw...


.

Tuesday or Wednesday?

I rose at my usual time, half an hour after throwing the alarm through the window, and headed for the coffee. Today I was careful to be less dozy after yesterday's disaster. Starting the morning as I was to continue the day I filled the cafetiere (that's your actual French that is) with coffee, fiddled about in the kitchen and knocked the cafetiere onto the floor, smashing it and burning a one inch hole in my foot with the hot beverage!
"Goodness gracious," I said as I stared dumbly at the floor, "I didn't want to do that."
The floor, by now coloured a deep brown and speckled with best Colombian coffee, as indeed was the oven, the wall, the ceiling and the pigeon outside that had been sitting on next doors roof! Somehow I knew it would not be my day.
As an aside I must explain the phrase 'Fiddled about.' This does not mean I was in fact fiddling, as I have neither a) a fiddle, or b) talent! I 'fiddled about by moving plates and cups (unwashed) to clear space for what laughingly was to pass for breakfast! Just how stale can bread be?

This morning I made my coffee in the new 'Tesco' supplied cafetiere and managed to drink it before I began putting my foot into anything. I then finished the Christmas cards, and how long does this take? I did the usual thing, having saved the cards received last year I 'Tippexed' out the signatures thereon and re-used them. I call this 'Going green!' I learned some things while passing through Aberdeen you know!
After this I wrapped the few parcels, last years unwanted presents, and affixed the stamps. You see, recycling is good! I decided to follow the advice of two sweet ladies of my acquaintance and avoid putting stamps on the packet, I just put four little dabs of glue and fool the postman into thinking the stamps have fallen off. There is a possibility these two may have passed through 'Doric Land' also. Not that I have many stamps anyway, and last year one sorting office realised the King (God Bless 'im) was dead and returned three cards to me! I have avoided putting a return address on the cards this year.


Later, after waiting half an aeon in the Post Office to post the valuable items, (Why does everybody have to pay for a Tax Disc at the same time I ask? I wandered through the town. I was dumbfounded to find the market up and running on a Tuesday and could not understand why this ought to be so. Maybe it is because of the Christmas shopping needs I thought and continued in my confused state for some time until it dawned on me this was indeed Wednesday! I am in several minds as to whether not having a proper routine is to blame or whether I am just barking? Answers on a postcard please! Anyway Matron said I must have a chaperon next time I go out and where have all the steak knives disappeared to?


I do remember meeting the pretty young lass, and they are all pretty young to me, to discuss the work situation yesterday and I remembered that this event did indeed occur on Tuesday. This left me with much homework to attend to, and I will eventually, and also led to far too much time on this here PC. Now my eye strain is back again and I have lots of letters to write and many things to read. It does not matter what folks do, in the end no-one will employ me because I am unfit, ignorant of what they require, and glaiket! I need a Lottery win urgently! Do you have any lottery system that works? I wonder how those folks that bought all those books offering Lottery winning systems got on? Do you reckon anybody ever won after using them? No, I doubt it also.

Ah well, I am off to lie in a darkened room until my mind returns! "Matron! Come and put me to bed!"