I was trying to explain to Lynn this morning that just because I appear to be grumpy all the time, this is not actually an indication of my poor state of mind:
DEPRESSED + GRUMPY: a bleak mood where nothing seems to go right and you feel like throwing yourself in front of the next C2C train as the thought of getting anything better is like thoughts of winning the lottery. Nice, but not likely to happen. Arguably a reflection of the true state of things.
REALLY GRUMPY: Grumpy but in a cheerful, optimistic, or at least stoic kind of way.
HAPPY GRUMPY: Full and willing acceptance that your life is a bag of poo but that it doesn’t really matter as it will go on anyway so you might as well do whatever passes for enjoyment.
HAPPY: A state of mind that requires medical intervention. Happiness comes but once a year – and more frequently than this and strong drugs might be needed.
Yes, I am a grumpy old bugger.
And I don’t care today.
MOOD: REALLY GRUMPY
MOOZIK: Fountains of Wayne and Faithless
Wednesday, December 15, 2004
Monday, December 13, 2004
A very happy un-Christmas...to you
I’m very glad to note this year that the usual marketing hyperbole, which is sometimes known as Christmas, has been much less noticeable this year. Or perhaps I’ve just been more efficient at avoiding it, having done most of my shopping online and avoiding the meat market that is the mall. Definitely the way to go. High Street retailers please take note. Christmas sales are NOT down, it’s just savvy bastards like me, as well as much of the male population who don’t get a kick of being slalomed by marauding buggies and mullered by shopping bags full of other people’s tut, are having their presents delivered. I am tired of hearing the same sensationalist "woe are we - the economy is crashing because sales are X percent down compared to last year" rubbish touted by the Chartered Society of British Shopkeepers or whatever the association representing the needs of he the robber-barons in our high streets offensive to my intelligence. Come February, we’ll all be lectured by the government and the Bank of England on just how irresponsible we’ve been, that British debt is spiralling out of control and blah blah bloody blah.
I usually get a case of the Christmas blues about the end of the October, which lasts up until the dreaded day itself. But this year, mainly due to us making a decision to keep present buying to manageable proportions, the stress levels I usually suffer are down considerably.
Christmas is for kids. If you have, them, I’m sure you’ll have a great time. I know I did until the age of about 14. But I’m not a kid, my brat is nearly 18, and we’re not having any more for the foreseeable. So what does the leviathan of High Street commercialism intend for us? Bloody nowt, that’s what.
If Christmas was the church’s answer to the pagan Winter Solstice celebration, but has now become a celebration of how much debt you can accumulate in the shortest space of time, let me define the Daggerdukc fantasy Christmas:
It would start with a long lie in bed with Lynn. Understrappers would supply an endless supply of hot (preferably alcoholic) drinks, chocolate, rich, decadent food, and later on, a turkey curry, Christmas dinner in its traditional form being just too plain bloody boring for my tastes. There would be a plentiful supply of our choice of DVDs, music and comedy. Ideally, this would take place in front of an open fire, but the heating would be on full blast in our house. Later we would hoist our over-full bodies out of doors and visit friends doing likewise. A limo would be there to take us to whichever friends we considered most worthy (OK, so this isn’t going to happen, but public transport would at least be plentiful and free for the day) . Oh yeah, and no carols or Slade records.
Hey, I’ve just noticed – I’ve not heard any ‘festive’ music on the radio at all this year. I know my radio stations of choice are BBC London and 6Music, both catering, I like to think (or kid myself), for the urbane, somewhat cynical listener. But even the high street seems bereft of the usual Xmas crap this year
Suits me fine. Ebenezer had it right all alone.
Bologs to Christmas and bah humbug to the lot of ya.
Unless you do have kids, in which case I hope they have/had a grand old time doing things involving snow, sledges and whining that the bike/iPod/hypodermic needle you bought them was the wrong colour and not as good as Stacey’s/Raj’s anyway.
Moozik and moods - see next entry as I'm on a roll today.
I usually get a case of the Christmas blues about the end of the October, which lasts up until the dreaded day itself. But this year, mainly due to us making a decision to keep present buying to manageable proportions, the stress levels I usually suffer are down considerably.
Christmas is for kids. If you have, them, I’m sure you’ll have a great time. I know I did until the age of about 14. But I’m not a kid, my brat is nearly 18, and we’re not having any more for the foreseeable. So what does the leviathan of High Street commercialism intend for us? Bloody nowt, that’s what.
If Christmas was the church’s answer to the pagan Winter Solstice celebration, but has now become a celebration of how much debt you can accumulate in the shortest space of time, let me define the Daggerdukc fantasy Christmas:
It would start with a long lie in bed with Lynn. Understrappers would supply an endless supply of hot (preferably alcoholic) drinks, chocolate, rich, decadent food, and later on, a turkey curry, Christmas dinner in its traditional form being just too plain bloody boring for my tastes. There would be a plentiful supply of our choice of DVDs, music and comedy. Ideally, this would take place in front of an open fire, but the heating would be on full blast in our house. Later we would hoist our over-full bodies out of doors and visit friends doing likewise. A limo would be there to take us to whichever friends we considered most worthy (OK, so this isn’t going to happen, but public transport would at least be plentiful and free for the day) . Oh yeah, and no carols or Slade records.
Hey, I’ve just noticed – I’ve not heard any ‘festive’ music on the radio at all this year. I know my radio stations of choice are BBC London and 6Music, both catering, I like to think (or kid myself), for the urbane, somewhat cynical listener. But even the high street seems bereft of the usual Xmas crap this year
Suits me fine. Ebenezer had it right all alone.
Bologs to Christmas and bah humbug to the lot of ya.
Unless you do have kids, in which case I hope they have/had a grand old time doing things involving snow, sledges and whining that the bike/iPod/hypodermic needle you bought them was the wrong colour and not as good as Stacey’s/Raj’s anyway.
Moozik and moods - see next entry as I'm on a roll today.
Playing at being daddy
The wifelet and me travelled to Folkestone yesterday to see our friend Paula and her baby Bethany. For maybe the fifth or sixth time in my "life" I felt broody! Her baby is such a cutie. I grew up with three younger sisters and referring to any child as ‘cute’ after that traumatic episode of my life is something I have never considered thinking, let alone articulating publicly before. Paula is in good form and having the child, and caring for her without her "father" around has aged her 10 years in a good way. Only my South African friend Johan’s wife, Nicky, is a better mother in my opinion. And Paula was once such a likkle girl not so many years ago…
I also learned that as a partially sighted person, BUGGIES ARE MY FRIEND. I pushed the baby around town while Paula did her shopping – she’s totally blind, so getting into town and doing what she wants is a big deal. People move themselves sharpish when they see a fat bloke with a buggy and I’m now considering buying one and pushing it around Romford, sans child, just so people move their fat arses from out of our collective way when I’m bimbling around the centre with wifey and Kizzer. No low floor buses on our local 103 route though, whereas Folkestone has loads.
A good day was had and I wish we could have stayed over the night.
Moozik: Keane and Queen (the poetic duo)
Mood: Veering left and right between hating Christmas preparation and all its trappings to somewhere close to content. Am I a bipolar depressive on the Q.T? I often wonder...
Books: Just ploughing through the goodnewsfest that is Metro in the mornings. And not doing much on the way home.
I also learned that as a partially sighted person, BUGGIES ARE MY FRIEND. I pushed the baby around town while Paula did her shopping – she’s totally blind, so getting into town and doing what she wants is a big deal. People move themselves sharpish when they see a fat bloke with a buggy and I’m now considering buying one and pushing it around Romford, sans child, just so people move their fat arses from out of our collective way when I’m bimbling around the centre with wifey and Kizzer. No low floor buses on our local 103 route though, whereas Folkestone has loads.
A good day was had and I wish we could have stayed over the night.
Moozik: Keane and Queen (the poetic duo)
Mood: Veering left and right between hating Christmas preparation and all its trappings to somewhere close to content. Am I a bipolar depressive on the Q.T? I often wonder...
Books: Just ploughing through the goodnewsfest that is Metro in the mornings. And not doing much on the way home.
Monday, December 06, 2004
Prozac anyone?
Whine whine whine. That’s me at the moment. (Hmm, for the past couple of months actually). No, make it the last couple of years. Am I really as miserable as I think I am or am or just having a bad day/week/month? A bit of perspective is required and I certainly don’t feel able to offer it to myself, let alone this blog.
Why is it that people are so able to criticise and totally unable to say thanks for anything good you have done for them? I’m bored of being everyone’s enabler then being totally forgotten about when my services are no longer required. There is only one solution, and it’s one I don’t especially like and that is to be a complete c**t to everyone. I would love to tell al my fair weathered friends to go take a flying f**k at something metallic and preferably fast moving.
That little observation is all I want to write today. Don’t feel up to scribbling any more so won’t waste anyone’s time doing so.
Hell’s bells, I need hard drugs.
Mood: No, we won’t go there any more than we already have.
Moozik: What’s that?
Why is it that people are so able to criticise and totally unable to say thanks for anything good you have done for them? I’m bored of being everyone’s enabler then being totally forgotten about when my services are no longer required. There is only one solution, and it’s one I don’t especially like and that is to be a complete c**t to everyone. I would love to tell al my fair weathered friends to go take a flying f**k at something metallic and preferably fast moving.
That little observation is all I want to write today. Don’t feel up to scribbling any more so won’t waste anyone’s time doing so.
Hell’s bells, I need hard drugs.
Mood: No, we won’t go there any more than we already have.
Moozik: What’s that?
White space needed here!
We attended the Aquabats Christmas dinner last night at the Irish Centre in
Queens Park. What a spread it was too. Loads of the usual Christmas fare,
and cooked to perfection.
We had a lovely New York Irish woman serve us; who, on seeing Lynn’s skin,
complimented her on her freckles. This woman had been voted the Coney Island
"Queen of Freckles, 1973". Lynn, whose nicknames include Dots, Frex,
LadyDots, Tidge (LenTIDGEini, Italian for…you’ve guessed) it has now been
given a new name.
Work hasn’t been as bad as I thought it would be this week; the usual
combination of mailing production and assisting users. This week’s feature:
how to produce letters using Alms as a mailmerge source. Several minor
crises with users being locked out and yours truly having to reboot the
server remotely, something I’ve never tried before. My stress levels were
phenomenal on Wednesday evening.
The weekend trip to Liverpool and Manchester with Tomsk has been cancelled.
The official reason is that Lynn’s brother has a ‘crisis’ going on in his
life at the moment, and is coming over tomorrow. Not quite true, he’s
coming over on Sunday and he does indeed have a ‘crisis’ though I suspect
this means he wants to get busy with a new guy he’s met in Forest Gate. A
long way from Blackpool where he lives, but convenient for our house. I
really like Lee – he’s been a good support to Lynn and more of a brother
than any of her blood ones, even though he was adopted by Lynn’s mum in the
70s. He’s a truly sleazy character and I’m sure we’ll have some fun over
the next week. I am one poor liar, and don’t like lying on principal, so
feel a touch guilty about this, but all to the best. I know Lynn didn’t
want to go and I was only 25 percent into it, so as there are only 52
weekends a year, so be it. The main reason we didn’t want to go up north
was simply because we don’t have a spare weekend before Christmas and so we
are both creaming ourselves for white space.
Angus and Corie were over on Wednesday’s "evening of stress" after we
threatened to teach Lottie, Core’s guide woofer how to ‘do’ escalators at
West Ham tube, the shortest escalator in London, and quite near us. This
turned into a longer-than-expected drinking session at the Barking Dog, so
teaching the dog the art of the moving stairs wasn’t an option. Instad we
returned here at 11 for a lasagne which Lynn made – (beautiful thing,
bricklike in consistency, tastes out of this world). However, we were too
lazy to make them up a bed so they ended up sleeping on our spare double. I
hope they didn’t get up to anything involving exchanging bodily fluids
without protection: our house has already been branded the conception zone,
and one baby at least has been squirted into existence by two friends who I
shan’t name.
I am doing a lot of imports tomorrow, so intend to knock off work early and
get something special to eat tonight.
Mood: Not bad. Could do with giving up the cigs again though. Patches this
evening I reckon. After a week of returning to them after mainly an 8 month
absence, I’m now sounding ten years older than my kid-like 35.
Moozik: Lots of random CD plays on Weds, but other than this, am looking
for silence.
Book: Bits and pieces from the Best New Horror compilation. I think I’ll be
ready to tackle something more intense come Monday.
_________________________________________________________________
Queens Park. What a spread it was too. Loads of the usual Christmas fare,
and cooked to perfection.
We had a lovely New York Irish woman serve us; who, on seeing Lynn’s skin,
complimented her on her freckles. This woman had been voted the Coney Island
"Queen of Freckles, 1973". Lynn, whose nicknames include Dots, Frex,
LadyDots, Tidge (LenTIDGEini, Italian for…you’ve guessed) it has now been
given a new name.
Work hasn’t been as bad as I thought it would be this week; the usual
combination of mailing production and assisting users. This week’s feature:
how to produce letters using Alms as a mailmerge source. Several minor
crises with users being locked out and yours truly having to reboot the
server remotely, something I’ve never tried before. My stress levels were
phenomenal on Wednesday evening.
The weekend trip to Liverpool and Manchester with Tomsk has been cancelled.
The official reason is that Lynn’s brother has a ‘crisis’ going on in his
life at the moment, and is coming over tomorrow. Not quite true, he’s
coming over on Sunday and he does indeed have a ‘crisis’ though I suspect
this means he wants to get busy with a new guy he’s met in Forest Gate. A
long way from Blackpool where he lives, but convenient for our house. I
really like Lee – he’s been a good support to Lynn and more of a brother
than any of her blood ones, even though he was adopted by Lynn’s mum in the
70s. He’s a truly sleazy character and I’m sure we’ll have some fun over
the next week. I am one poor liar, and don’t like lying on principal, so
feel a touch guilty about this, but all to the best. I know Lynn didn’t
want to go and I was only 25 percent into it, so as there are only 52
weekends a year, so be it. The main reason we didn’t want to go up north
was simply because we don’t have a spare weekend before Christmas and so we
are both creaming ourselves for white space.
Angus and Corie were over on Wednesday’s "evening of stress" after we
threatened to teach Lottie, Core’s guide woofer how to ‘do’ escalators at
West Ham tube, the shortest escalator in London, and quite near us. This
turned into a longer-than-expected drinking session at the Barking Dog, so
teaching the dog the art of the moving stairs wasn’t an option. Instad we
returned here at 11 for a lasagne which Lynn made – (beautiful thing,
bricklike in consistency, tastes out of this world). However, we were too
lazy to make them up a bed so they ended up sleeping on our spare double. I
hope they didn’t get up to anything involving exchanging bodily fluids
without protection: our house has already been branded the conception zone,
and one baby at least has been squirted into existence by two friends who I
shan’t name.
I am doing a lot of imports tomorrow, so intend to knock off work early and
get something special to eat tonight.
Mood: Not bad. Could do with giving up the cigs again though. Patches this
evening I reckon. After a week of returning to them after mainly an 8 month
absence, I’m now sounding ten years older than my kid-like 35.
Moozik: Lots of random CD plays on Weds, but other than this, am looking
for silence.
Book: Bits and pieces from the Best New Horror compilation. I think I’ll be
ready to tackle something more intense come Monday.
_________________________________________________________________
Tuesday, November 30, 2004
Feeling better
This past couple of days have not been too bad at all. On Saturday we celebrated Lynn’s birthday by assembling an IKEA TV unit round Mick and Krissy’s flat which now looks marvellous. I sneaked off to London Bridge and bought her a massive box of Leonidas chocolates, her favourite after Rococo’s in Chelsea, which I wouldn’t have had the time to visit. Then a trip to the Ministry of Spice in Evelyn Street, Deptford that is cheap as chips and highly recommended for its unusual dishes, such as the spicy lamb marinated in Bengali lime which I had.
Better news after my specs whinge is that I CAN get them fixed - for £12. Hardly going to break the bank and at least I have a good spare set as well. Opty managed to fix my current ones for nowt as well and they feel much more solid than ever before. I'll have to remember that next time I'm feeling pessimistic, which let's face it, is quite often.
On Sunday we went over to Brick Lane to pick her up a leather jacket which he managed to haggle down to £90 for cash. We first went to Petticoat Lane, and it’s changed drastically from being a reasonably good market, especially for leather goods, to being one that the average chav would be ashamed to shop at. Lots of very cheap and poor quality copies of Next and Wallis clothes. Really unimpressed. Will stick to Romford market for knock-offs, not that I buy many.
I’ve quite a bit to catch up on, so some random jottings for the time being:
First, the new flat screen telly is behaving really well (thanks parents for picking it up from Currys), and I’m so relieved our shed roof is now leak proof. The house is looking better than it has done in ages. I know this that the changes required were merely cosmetic, other than the roof, but there is something really depressing coming home to a rat-filled, messy non-snagged house. Our shed again: I was absolutely dreading going there next summer only to find the whole structure rotted through. Yet I am the worst person in the world for DIY projects. It meant giving my dad a lot of heavy duty hinting but at least the jobs that needed most doing are now done and the place is looking clean.
Bloody hell I sound like an ungrateful and incompetent sod. Incompetent I’d not deny. When it comes to things involving power tools and small bobbins of one kind or another I’ll leave that to someone else.
Mood: Much more cheerful than last Friday.
Moozik: Not playing any at the moment, watching DVDs (mainly Hitch-Hikers)
Book: New Best Horror from 2001. Need something light and easy to manage and this will do nicely, thanks very much.
Better news after my specs whinge is that I CAN get them fixed - for £12. Hardly going to break the bank and at least I have a good spare set as well. Opty managed to fix my current ones for nowt as well and they feel much more solid than ever before. I'll have to remember that next time I'm feeling pessimistic, which let's face it, is quite often.
On Sunday we went over to Brick Lane to pick her up a leather jacket which he managed to haggle down to £90 for cash. We first went to Petticoat Lane, and it’s changed drastically from being a reasonably good market, especially for leather goods, to being one that the average chav would be ashamed to shop at. Lots of very cheap and poor quality copies of Next and Wallis clothes. Really unimpressed. Will stick to Romford market for knock-offs, not that I buy many.
I’ve quite a bit to catch up on, so some random jottings for the time being:
First, the new flat screen telly is behaving really well (thanks parents for picking it up from Currys), and I’m so relieved our shed roof is now leak proof. The house is looking better than it has done in ages. I know this that the changes required were merely cosmetic, other than the roof, but there is something really depressing coming home to a rat-filled, messy non-snagged house. Our shed again: I was absolutely dreading going there next summer only to find the whole structure rotted through. Yet I am the worst person in the world for DIY projects. It meant giving my dad a lot of heavy duty hinting but at least the jobs that needed most doing are now done and the place is looking clean.
Bloody hell I sound like an ungrateful and incompetent sod. Incompetent I’d not deny. When it comes to things involving power tools and small bobbins of one kind or another I’ll leave that to someone else.
Mood: Much more cheerful than last Friday.
Moozik: Not playing any at the moment, watching DVDs (mainly Hitch-Hikers)
Book: New Best Horror from 2001. Need something light and easy to manage and this will do nicely, thanks very much.
Daggerdukc's appalling state of mind
(26th November 2004 but delayed due to technical aggro with broadband)
It's been a dismal couple of weeks for the Daggersdukc psyche. It's so
Bad I couldn't even write last Friday, my usual blog-day. Yet another thing
packed up yesterday, this time it was my glasses which went 'ping' during
the middle of the afternoon for no apparent reason leaving the left arm
hanging by a thread. Now I have to resort to a really grotty spare set
until either the opty can fix them or I buy another pair (there goes another 300
quid!).
I really must do something about my job. I worked out that a lot of what
is making me feel down, apart from my yearly bout of SAD, thoughts of Joanne
which still pervade after 3 months, and the fact that it's Christmas
nearly, and I'm woefully unprepared - same story year after year there,
It’s my job and sense of total, utter powerlessness it brings. OK, help me out
here: there are a number of reasons why I should keep my job and some
that a quite persuasive in making me want to leave:
So let's start with the good:
1) I am working within my comfort zone. The job lacks any challenge but
then again it's one I can do and pays a reasonable salary unless I
seriously retrain and therefore lose money for a year or more doing so.
2) I get to work two days a week from home, which means no commute. This
is generally a good thing as anyone who uses the tube on a daily basis will
confirm, unless they enjoy bouts of masochism.
3) Having a boss who knows that leaving his staff to get on with their job
is the way to go - providing his staff are competent at doing it, which I
am.
OK, I could only come up with three goodies. Not much compared to this
lot:
1) I've done it for five years now and I'm permanently bored and my brain
feels as it hasn't had a challenge in quite a while.
2) It's not a job that brings any tangible results. You know, a coal
miner digs coal and can see the results of his work by the number of wagons
taking it away. Even sales staff get to celebrate their successes, and this is a
job I myself would not care much to do. I can't believe I feel envious
towards sales staff.
3) No recognition or thanks or any acknowledgement that I exist. The only
time I get any recognition is the rare times when I screw up.
4) My colleagues are typical techie types who aren't the life and soul of
the party. This is unfortunately par for the course as to do the work we
do, we do need concentration space and time. But I need a laugh now and
then and the only humour in the office is of the cynical type. Funny
undoubtedly, but healthy it is not.
5) Although I work from home and I generally like it, I do get terribly
lonely during the day with only myself to talk to or Jon Gaunt to yell at.
This loneliness was one of the reasons I started liaising with Joanne in
the first place and I don't entirely blame myself for doing so. Everyone
needs and deserves company. Unfortunately for all three of us my feelings
towards her got totally out of control.and despite having to end our friendship
for obvious reasons, I still miss her. Sometimes it hits me quite hard at
times I least expect it. I can't play Fountains of Wayne now without
associating their music with her for example and this is a shame as its Interstate
Managers was one of my favourite CDs. London seems to be New York
Obsessed at the moment and I get a real pang of something approaching jealousy and sadness when I think of her there. And frig it, there's a travel reporter on my radio station of choice who has a very similar name to Joanne's real one. Anyway, I'm truly drifting away from the subject at hand.
6) What I actually do doesn't seem to determine the result is. If you work
hard in life, you should get a result to show for it. Not in my job: for
example, I set up a mailing to run from 11 this morning. At 4pm, the
server needed to be rebooted. A day's work wasted.
7) Neasden, the place we were transplanted to from the West End three years
ago is the most depressing part of London. What can I say that's good?
about it? Not a thing. No shops even. Not even somewhere to eat. We have our sandwiches delivered by van at 11 each morning. In one of the world's
most cosmopolitan cities, this strikes me as being just totally sad. It's a
place for losers so I feel like I am one. At least Lynn has got a
Morrisons within walking distance of her workplace and the West End shops are a few minutes by tube. Not for me, it's a half-hour slog back into London.
After spending a good chunk of my day going right through the middle, I can't
really be bothered to head back to the happening zone for a brief half
hour' s lunchbreak before having to return.
So then, what would you do?
Not connected with this at all is that my friend Angus has just started to
date a lovely woman called Corie. Good luck to them. They are both nice
People and they are both music geeks in the extreme. Corie has a 14 year
old girl so this could be the determining factor on whether it works or
not. Obviously Angus and Corie have to get on (which they seem to be doing
nicely) but I know that had I not got on with Lynn's daughter it would
Has been that much harder for me and her mother to have become as serious as we did. But for the time being, I look forward to many foursomes eating at
the venerable restaurants of Kilburn.
It's Lynn's birthday tomorrow and I haven't even got her a present. Oh
darn.
Moozik: None - our hi-fi has been transplanted to another part of the room
and is yet to be re-wired. New flat screen telly to be connected to it.
I suppose if you count downloads I've been listening to Das Ich and the
Beautiful South, quite a contrary combination.
Books: The state of my hopelessness is symbolised by my lack of interest
In reading. I completed the Handmaid's Tale last night on the train. It's
downbeat nature only enhanced my mood of grimness. I'll have to
rejuvenate the BookCourier, an electronic reading device I have about the same size as a fag packet. At least I can then just drift off if I don't like the
story.
Mood: Looking forward to seeing Lynn after her being away at a mate's last night. Missed her lots and can't wait for some hugs.
It's been a dismal couple of weeks for the Daggersdukc psyche. It's so
Bad I couldn't even write last Friday, my usual blog-day. Yet another thing
packed up yesterday, this time it was my glasses which went 'ping' during
the middle of the afternoon for no apparent reason leaving the left arm
hanging by a thread. Now I have to resort to a really grotty spare set
until either the opty can fix them or I buy another pair (there goes another 300
quid!).
I really must do something about my job. I worked out that a lot of what
is making me feel down, apart from my yearly bout of SAD, thoughts of Joanne
which still pervade after 3 months, and the fact that it's Christmas
nearly, and I'm woefully unprepared - same story year after year there,
It’s my job and sense of total, utter powerlessness it brings. OK, help me out
here: there are a number of reasons why I should keep my job and some
that a quite persuasive in making me want to leave:
So let's start with the good:
1) I am working within my comfort zone. The job lacks any challenge but
then again it's one I can do and pays a reasonable salary unless I
seriously retrain and therefore lose money for a year or more doing so.
2) I get to work two days a week from home, which means no commute. This
is generally a good thing as anyone who uses the tube on a daily basis will
confirm, unless they enjoy bouts of masochism.
3) Having a boss who knows that leaving his staff to get on with their job
is the way to go - providing his staff are competent at doing it, which I
am.
OK, I could only come up with three goodies. Not much compared to this
lot:
1) I've done it for five years now and I'm permanently bored and my brain
feels as it hasn't had a challenge in quite a while.
2) It's not a job that brings any tangible results. You know, a coal
miner digs coal and can see the results of his work by the number of wagons
taking it away. Even sales staff get to celebrate their successes, and this is a
job I myself would not care much to do. I can't believe I feel envious
towards sales staff.
3) No recognition or thanks or any acknowledgement that I exist. The only
time I get any recognition is the rare times when I screw up.
4) My colleagues are typical techie types who aren't the life and soul of
the party. This is unfortunately par for the course as to do the work we
do, we do need concentration space and time. But I need a laugh now and
then and the only humour in the office is of the cynical type. Funny
undoubtedly, but healthy it is not.
5) Although I work from home and I generally like it, I do get terribly
lonely during the day with only myself to talk to or Jon Gaunt to yell at.
This loneliness was one of the reasons I started liaising with Joanne in
the first place and I don't entirely blame myself for doing so. Everyone
needs and deserves company. Unfortunately for all three of us my feelings
towards her got totally out of control.and despite having to end our friendship
for obvious reasons, I still miss her. Sometimes it hits me quite hard at
times I least expect it. I can't play Fountains of Wayne now without
associating their music with her for example and this is a shame as its Interstate
Managers was one of my favourite CDs. London seems to be New York
Obsessed at the moment and I get a real pang of something approaching jealousy and sadness when I think of her there. And frig it, there's a travel reporter on my radio station of choice who has a very similar name to Joanne's real one. Anyway, I'm truly drifting away from the subject at hand.
6) What I actually do doesn't seem to determine the result is. If you work
hard in life, you should get a result to show for it. Not in my job: for
example, I set up a mailing to run from 11 this morning. At 4pm, the
server needed to be rebooted. A day's work wasted.
7) Neasden, the place we were transplanted to from the West End three years
ago is the most depressing part of London. What can I say that's good?
about it? Not a thing. No shops even. Not even somewhere to eat. We have our sandwiches delivered by van at 11 each morning. In one of the world's
most cosmopolitan cities, this strikes me as being just totally sad. It's a
place for losers so I feel like I am one. At least Lynn has got a
Morrisons within walking distance of her workplace and the West End shops are a few minutes by tube. Not for me, it's a half-hour slog back into London.
After spending a good chunk of my day going right through the middle, I can't
really be bothered to head back to the happening zone for a brief half
hour' s lunchbreak before having to return.
So then, what would you do?
Not connected with this at all is that my friend Angus has just started to
date a lovely woman called Corie. Good luck to them. They are both nice
People and they are both music geeks in the extreme. Corie has a 14 year
old girl so this could be the determining factor on whether it works or
not. Obviously Angus and Corie have to get on (which they seem to be doing
nicely) but I know that had I not got on with Lynn's daughter it would
Has been that much harder for me and her mother to have become as serious as we did. But for the time being, I look forward to many foursomes eating at
the venerable restaurants of Kilburn.
It's Lynn's birthday tomorrow and I haven't even got her a present. Oh
darn.
Moozik: None - our hi-fi has been transplanted to another part of the room
and is yet to be re-wired. New flat screen telly to be connected to it.
I suppose if you count downloads I've been listening to Das Ich and the
Beautiful South, quite a contrary combination.
Books: The state of my hopelessness is symbolised by my lack of interest
In reading. I completed the Handmaid's Tale last night on the train. It's
downbeat nature only enhanced my mood of grimness. I'll have to
rejuvenate the BookCourier, an electronic reading device I have about the same size as a fag packet. At least I can then just drift off if I don't like the
story.
Mood: Looking forward to seeing Lynn after her being away at a mate's last night. Missed her lots and can't wait for some hugs.
Friday, November 12, 2004
Computers and blind people
Well despite my good intentions of keeping this blog up to date I’ve been rather lax. This is due to a number of things:
1) I tend to write this at work drink lunch breaks on times when our database is doing something computer hungry and therefore freeing up my fingers to do something less boring instead. This patently has not happened this week. This is because some data I put on the system over the weekend a few Saturdays ago was the wrong data and I’ve therefore had to unpick everything I’ve put on manually, as the system does not have mass undelete feature. I’ve lost the will the live a few times. Give me a job in advertising, right now, please. For those of you in advertising who hate it, feel free to swap jobs with me any time you choose.
2) I’ve had a delightful combination of winter and post-Joanne blues this week. I’ve only just started to cheer up.
A few other things that have pissed me off:
1) Our rat, which I shall call Rufus this time, has returned. This is after Rodney, who ate us out of house and home and probably gave us a small dose of Weil’s disease each. Rat woman came over on Wednesday to slaughter him with Klerat. Good riddance.
2) Hot water packed up on Friday, and its only just been repaired as we were out in Nottingham last weekend. Did I mention this already? The trams, by the way, were cool. I like the way they suddenly go into super-fast mode round about Wilkinson Street.
3) Small bedroom TV packed up.
Now all’s we need is the washing machine or some other major appliance to die for that nice pre-Christmas spend up we really don’t need.
But, as I say, I started to cheer up this afternoon. The main reason for this cheer is that I’ve started participating in a group called Blindoscafe, run by and for, surprise surprise, blind people in the UK. After lurking for a bit I got the impression that the main players really were quite a good bunch of people. Stupid sense of humour all round, with a degree of seriousness for when it’s appropriate. My only gripe with this list is that there is TOO MUCH TRAFFIC. I mean, 200 e-mails a day is a lot to wade though innit?
Here’s my sociological stance on blindies for what its worth:
Blind people seem to fall into too categories:
a. Ultra-conservative, non-adventurous whingers for whom a night on the town consists of a McDonalds before getting the last bus home at half-eight.
b. Wild, massive hedonists. Pleasure involves getting plastered by 9, heading out for a really hot curry, then going to a late night gay club (we get the sympathy vote from most gays, odd fact but true) for a some late night drinks. Then getting a cab home as it gets light and falling asleep, waking up a few hours later on a pukey pillow..
There does not seem to be a middling type of person, as there is with the majority of sighted people. We either are one or the other. Psychologists and sociologists more qualified than me can explain this phenomena I’m sure but I’m too much a part of this world to be able to give a reasonable explanation as to why.
Sounds: Garbage, Robbie Williams doing the ‘swing thang’ and its really better than ought to be. The CD is a Chrimbo present for Lynn but I had to listen to it on the way home from work and its OK. When I think about what I used to listen in the 90 and early 00s and what I like now, I really am turning into a Radio 2 fart. I suppose the main reason for this is that GLR, my station of choice, has turned mainly into a talk station. Don’t get me wrong, Danny Baker is the best thing going on the radio right now, but the only equivilant is Radio 6, a digital station. I do have a digi radio in the house but its not half as accessible as an ordinary analogue radio.
Mood: It’s Friday, all the better for it.
Books: Can’t be bothered to read right now. Just scan Metro on the tube, that’s about as intellectual as things have got recently. Help me, my brain is turning to blancmange.
1) I tend to write this at work drink lunch breaks on times when our database is doing something computer hungry and therefore freeing up my fingers to do something less boring instead. This patently has not happened this week. This is because some data I put on the system over the weekend a few Saturdays ago was the wrong data and I’ve therefore had to unpick everything I’ve put on manually, as the system does not have mass undelete feature. I’ve lost the will the live a few times. Give me a job in advertising, right now, please. For those of you in advertising who hate it, feel free to swap jobs with me any time you choose.
2) I’ve had a delightful combination of winter and post-Joanne blues this week. I’ve only just started to cheer up.
A few other things that have pissed me off:
1) Our rat, which I shall call Rufus this time, has returned. This is after Rodney, who ate us out of house and home and probably gave us a small dose of Weil’s disease each. Rat woman came over on Wednesday to slaughter him with Klerat. Good riddance.
2) Hot water packed up on Friday, and its only just been repaired as we were out in Nottingham last weekend. Did I mention this already? The trams, by the way, were cool. I like the way they suddenly go into super-fast mode round about Wilkinson Street.
3) Small bedroom TV packed up.
Now all’s we need is the washing machine or some other major appliance to die for that nice pre-Christmas spend up we really don’t need.
But, as I say, I started to cheer up this afternoon. The main reason for this cheer is that I’ve started participating in a group called Blindoscafe, run by and for, surprise surprise, blind people in the UK. After lurking for a bit I got the impression that the main players really were quite a good bunch of people. Stupid sense of humour all round, with a degree of seriousness for when it’s appropriate. My only gripe with this list is that there is TOO MUCH TRAFFIC. I mean, 200 e-mails a day is a lot to wade though innit?
Here’s my sociological stance on blindies for what its worth:
Blind people seem to fall into too categories:
a. Ultra-conservative, non-adventurous whingers for whom a night on the town consists of a McDonalds before getting the last bus home at half-eight.
b. Wild, massive hedonists. Pleasure involves getting plastered by 9, heading out for a really hot curry, then going to a late night gay club (we get the sympathy vote from most gays, odd fact but true) for a some late night drinks. Then getting a cab home as it gets light and falling asleep, waking up a few hours later on a pukey pillow..
There does not seem to be a middling type of person, as there is with the majority of sighted people. We either are one or the other. Psychologists and sociologists more qualified than me can explain this phenomena I’m sure but I’m too much a part of this world to be able to give a reasonable explanation as to why.
Sounds: Garbage, Robbie Williams doing the ‘swing thang’ and its really better than ought to be. The CD is a Chrimbo present for Lynn but I had to listen to it on the way home from work and its OK. When I think about what I used to listen in the 90 and early 00s and what I like now, I really am turning into a Radio 2 fart. I suppose the main reason for this is that GLR, my station of choice, has turned mainly into a talk station. Don’t get me wrong, Danny Baker is the best thing going on the radio right now, but the only equivilant is Radio 6, a digital station. I do have a digi radio in the house but its not half as accessible as an ordinary analogue radio.
Mood: It’s Friday, all the better for it.
Books: Can’t be bothered to read right now. Just scan Metro on the tube, that’s about as intellectual as things have got recently. Help me, my brain is turning to blancmange.
Friday, November 05, 2004
A couple of other blogs I like
I'm not a great blog reader, simply because I've an addictive personality and would easily find myself sacked from my job and divorced. It could easily become the internet equivilant of daytime telly for me. But I thought I'd just mention a couple of other bloggers gear I read every now and then.
Firstly, Veghead's 'bologs'.
www.fatsquirrel.org/bologs/veghead/
Recommended for his cynicism and rantings about SE London life, computers, New Cross, Goldsmiths', sandwich fillings etc.
And
www.heyjo.com
The sort of person I'd love to chat with for a long smoke-filled evening over a drink or six. Wonderfully down-to-earth and a film buff like few others. I'm not a film nerd at all, but I think she could convert me. And she's one of the few people I can actually "hear" talking via her writings though I've never heard her voice in the flesh.
So there you go.
Firstly, Veghead's 'bologs'.
www.fatsquirrel.org/bologs/veghead/
Recommended for his cynicism and rantings about SE London life, computers, New Cross, Goldsmiths', sandwich fillings etc.
And
www.heyjo.com
The sort of person I'd love to chat with for a long smoke-filled evening over a drink or six. Wonderfully down-to-earth and a film buff like few others. I'm not a film nerd at all, but I think she could convert me. And she's one of the few people I can actually "hear" talking via her writings though I've never heard her voice in the flesh.
So there you go.
Bush and all that
Well I have to say it. Like just about every literate person outside of Middle America: Bush. In. Sad day for America, a country I cannot help but like despite itself; not to mention the rest of us Brits who live under his indirect leadership. I feel so sorry for those sensible Americans who didn't vote for for this prize winning arsehole. I was reading in the NY Times yesterday about some moderately left-wing people in San Fran, and this is America where left wing is fairly moderate. Anyone vegan for example would probably be counted as a radical. The article described how sad these chaps were - in despair where the words it used - to be living under another four years of Bush. I got the same sense of battening down the hatches we had in Britain us moderate left-leaners onwards had after the Tories were voted in after the 1991 election. And I was only 21 then.
We can't even accuse anyone of vote rigging. Yet.
The Gaggia coffee machine arrived today and I've got to say even though I was a sceptical bunny about paying £365 for it, it does make the most wonderful brew known to mankind, or at least me. And it also means I just have to heave my fat body downstairs of a morning and hit one button for this glorious liquid to be produced. A wonderful thing overall.
Off to Nottingham tomorrow for the trams and because neither of us have been there before.
Tonight, the wife and I are watching Saturday Night and Sunday Morning to get us in the mood.
Kizzie is sh1tting herself over the fireworks which are constant after about 4.30pm. On the one hand, I have to feel sorry for her. She was so scared on Wednesday she try to take Lynn into every house along our road, she even tried jumping into cars - it didn't matter to her that they were all parked and locked up. On the other, I really wouldn't like her to kill the wife while she has one of her many "I'm going to freeze in the middle of the road" moments. So she has to go. Sorry Kizz.
Moozik: Art of Noise (Seduction of Claude Debussy), Pernice Brothers, Elliott Smith
Mood: Some sort of recovery, maybe. We'll see. I'm still emotionally riding the roller-coaster and get quite maudlin when I think of Joanne for too long.
We can't even accuse anyone of vote rigging. Yet.
The Gaggia coffee machine arrived today and I've got to say even though I was a sceptical bunny about paying £365 for it, it does make the most wonderful brew known to mankind, or at least me. And it also means I just have to heave my fat body downstairs of a morning and hit one button for this glorious liquid to be produced. A wonderful thing overall.
Off to Nottingham tomorrow for the trams and because neither of us have been there before.
Tonight, the wife and I are watching Saturday Night and Sunday Morning to get us in the mood.
Kizzie is sh1tting herself over the fireworks which are constant after about 4.30pm. On the one hand, I have to feel sorry for her. She was so scared on Wednesday she try to take Lynn into every house along our road, she even tried jumping into cars - it didn't matter to her that they were all parked and locked up. On the other, I really wouldn't like her to kill the wife while she has one of her many "I'm going to freeze in the middle of the road" moments. So she has to go. Sorry Kizz.
Moozik: Art of Noise (Seduction of Claude Debussy), Pernice Brothers, Elliott Smith
Mood: Some sort of recovery, maybe. We'll see. I'm still emotionally riding the roller-coaster and get quite maudlin when I think of Joanne for too long.
Friday, October 29, 2004
So tired / the play
I’m so tired.
I’m not going to write much today. The play was wonderful – a full house in fact in a fringe theatre that seats 80. Wembley Arena its not, but by far the largest number of people I've performed in front of.
No one forgot his or her lines. Everyone was in character, which once it happens, is a joy to behold. You stop watching Joe Bloggs playing at acting and instead, something magic happens.
Thoroughly enjoyed it, as did the audience some of which we met in the bar, post-show. And my fellow cast are a truly supporting a great bunch of guys to work with. Sean Duffy, our director is one top geezer. I'd definitely work with him on another play, no question.
I’m doing my regular job as well and 18-hour days are taking their toll. Some of the cast are having days off work, but not me. Far too stubborn. Days off are for wimps.
I’ll write on Monday.
Adam the Luvvie
I’m not going to write much today. The play was wonderful – a full house in fact in a fringe theatre that seats 80. Wembley Arena its not, but by far the largest number of people I've performed in front of.
No one forgot his or her lines. Everyone was in character, which once it happens, is a joy to behold. You stop watching Joe Bloggs playing at acting and instead, something magic happens.
Thoroughly enjoyed it, as did the audience some of which we met in the bar, post-show. And my fellow cast are a truly supporting a great bunch of guys to work with. Sean Duffy, our director is one top geezer. I'd definitely work with him on another play, no question.
I’m doing my regular job as well and 18-hour days are taking their toll. Some of the cast are having days off work, but not me. Far too stubborn. Days off are for wimps.
I’ll write on Monday.
Adam the Luvvie
Friday, October 08, 2004
My first blog
I suppose everyone - at least everyone as disorganised as me - will have the same thoughts when they set up their first blog entry. What the hell do I write about? Well here goes with some introductory information about moi. Sort of top of page CV stylee:
Real name: Adam Holdsworh Username: DaggersDukc. Er, the Daggers part can be explained by where I live, Dagenham, Essex, which isn't really sure whether its East London or Essex proper. Anyone from Essex proper is probably disgusted by this notion, especially if they're in a nice part. But you'd be surprised how many Londoners don't know where my town of non-choice is. More on this "non-choice" later I'm sure. I'm originally from the centre of cool. AKA Hayes, Middlesex. A sort of Dagenham in West London.. Dukc? Well a while back I started using an alternative e-mail persona who'd write to his friends as a really stupid duck - complete with bird-brained thoughts, quacks (quakcs?) and the kind of ramblings only a creature confirmed to a lake in Dagenham can have (there are several lakes here believe it or not). This sad old water-borne avian could not even spell his name properly, poor fella. It’s not a persona that I used for long, but I liked the idea of him and the username has stuck. It’s as good as any I suppose.
Partners, kids, etc: Married to the lovely Lynn - been so for four years now. She's from Craigavon in Northern Ireland but she's been living in London on and off for the last 20 years or so, so I guess that makes her a 'dual national' so to speak. Although she'd object to that as she's one of those orange NI-ers who think they're British (that was a *joke* in case anyone's getting hot under the collar). I have a daughter (step if you really must know) called Carly who is doing a whole load of A levels in Hereford. She's pretty damn bright for a 17 year old. Destined for great things...but then I'm biased of course. We also have a canine called Kizzie whose mugshot I'll try and post here some time in the near future. She's a 9 year old golden labra-dog.
Hobbies/interests blah blah blah: Music - will give you an idea of what I'm listening to at the end of each entry as I do get through rather a lot of music. Food: eat tons - I'm a big lad. However, I'm currently doing low-carb, sometimes known as the dreaded Atkins. Which seems to work when I can motivate myself to stay on it long enough. Wifey is also doing same which helps enormously. Reading: Will also give you an idea of what books are passing my face at any given time as I do read a lot - though not enough as I'd like. Tend towards horror/SF/suspense/thriller but not really limited to any genre especially. In January I'm started an introductory creative writing course at the City Lit in Holborn. Which leads me on to....
Career/jobs: Currently working as Database Administrator Assistant at Royal National Institute of the Blind (http://www.rnib.org.uk/) in Neasden, North London. A bit of a trek form home and a job I think I've done now for long enough. Before that I've worked at Lec in Bognor Regis as an assembler of fridges - a student job I'd rather forget about; a WP operator at Heidelberg Graphics in Brentford, Middlesex. A job I think I was as glad to see the back as they were glad to sack me. I've also worked as an exhibition guide at the Royal Festival Hall, a Housing Admin bod at the lovely Reigate & Banstead Council - do I miss that place? Yep, surely do, if only for the lovely people who worked there, some of the best! I've stuffed envelopes during the Abbey National Share issue - classy people, mainly studes at Sussex Uni - shame about the pay. I'm hoping to make a career in writing. More as we go on, but that's why the creative writing course is going to be taken in January. Age: 35
Places lived: London, including: Hayes, Heathrow flight path, New Cross and Deptford while studying at Goldsmiths College, North Ken, Hackney for six years - great place, don't let anyone say otherwise - and now, Dagenham, which I'm fond of in a love-to-hate-you kind of way. Mainly the hate stems from the useless late night service on the District Line. Doesn't make going in to Central London seem especially fun when you know you'll have to wait 20 minutes or more for the tube home.
Places visited: Spain, Greece, Barbados, France, Belgium, The 'dam, South Africa, and I've also been a star in New York and a star in LA earlier this year. Loved NY, one of the few places I felt instantly at home in as a Londoner by birth and breeding. So I guess that makes me a product of the city, right?
Currently doing: at work, thinking about going home (or to the pub with a few mates in Whitechapel, haven't decided yet, must make some calls... Will probably learn some lines on the way home. I'm in an am-dram group called the Venturers (alas, no website) who are putting on a performance of JP Sartre's Huis Clos (No Exit). I'm the Valet and we're playing at the Cockpit Theatre on Edgware Road on 29-31 Oct if anyone's up for it. Rehearsals are my social llife at the moment. Will be glad/sad when it’s all over, but until then it’s a lot of work. If not going for a drink, then heading for a 'bab and a nice cosy evening in with Lynn and Kizz. That's it for now I reckon.
Moozik: Rock Follies soundtrack
Book: Iain Banks - Raw Spirit. Mood: Thank Crunchie its Friday!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)