Miles painting the skirting board

Miles painting the skirting board
Originally uploaded by joellaflickr.

Some jobs need a Virgoan. I did the priming and the undercoat, but I knew my glossing would never withstand detailed scrutiny.

joella

A night for sore eyes

I should be down the Zodiac watching Four Tet. But I'm not. I'm instead sitting here with my hands spattered with gloss undercoat and my hair in a big handkerchief which my sister tells me makes me look like a chemotherapy patient. I tell her she can't talk, her appendix scar makes her look like she's got two belly buttons. There's definitely no gloves on round here today.

Suffice to say, I'm not really up to gigging company. And my eyes hurt. Not when they're open, but when I blink hard. I think this is from the dust from sanding.

We're at that horrible stage where all is devastation and you can't remember why you started this horrible mammoth task. With luck, by the end of tomorrow all will be clear.

joella

Days of wine and lentils

I don't understand how anyone can dislike lentils. They are the finest of pulses. Puy lentils are particularly fine, but I am fond of all kinds. This particular panful became last night's dinner: M's green and puy lentil dal with spinach, which we ate with rice, cucumber and mint raita, and tomato and red onion relish. It was a Top Tea.

Today my mother and impressively bescarred sister arrived to help paint the kitchen. Living so far away from them, I forget how my life may look to outsiders who are also intimates. My teetotal mother came with me when I popped out for milk while the dinner was in the oven. I said 'I'll just get a bottle of wine', and then hovered on the shop threshold thinking 'my god! I'm just about to take my mother into Classic Wines!'. (For those as don't know the area, this is the kind of off licence which usually smells of vomit and bleach).

M was relieved to hear that I got over any potential embarrassment and marched home with a litre of South African white. Litre bottles mean you can just drink the one between you, thereby keeping up appearances while still getting pissed. How sad is that?

And I've just realised that's two posts in a row about wine. Fortunately, I've got tomorrow off.

joella

Priorities, priorities

Yesterday, I managed to leave my purse in my bed. I don't remember putting it there, but somehow I did. I discovered its absence at lunchtime and called home, where M valiantly located it in the duvet so I didn't need to cancel all my cards.

My kind colleague S bought me some lunch. And then I found a fiver in my pocket. Great, I thought. Bus fare.

I worked quite late on my counter proposal, and set off for the bus stop in a stomp. Passed a garage on the way and decided I needed a bottle of wine IMMEDIATELY. Walked in and chose one and then remembered I didn't have my purse. Bugger. But hey, I've got a fiver! Bought wine.

Walked to the bus stop. Oh no! I've spent my bus fare on booze!

Walked home.

Drank wine.

Threw myself onto the bed and a little bank bag of 20p coins (laundrette money, and coincidentally just enough to have paid my bus fare) flew out of the turn up on my jeans and hit the wall.

Oh well.

joella

Come over here and say that!

It all gets better in the New Building. I get a hard time for quitting and then it turns out they were going to make me redundant anyway. There's something happening here, what it is ain't exactly clear.

But I now have the luxury of being able to write a counter proposal as someone who is (get me and my posh grammar) disinterested. I was tempted to write Just. Fuck. Off. but instead I am bashing the life out of my keyboard and using phrases like 'huge impact on the team's competence', 'complete lack of consideration of the obvious' and 'both top-heavy and insufficient'. Love it.

joella

Deaf as a post

Yes, I can safely report that last night's Fall gig was the perfect antidote to yesterday's angst. With Mark E Smith, appearance counts for nothing, it's all about NOISE. He shambled on stage looking like a low-rent hotel porter who's just finished his shift. I didn't know you could still *buy* trousers that bad.

First support were N0ught, who were wonderful, and second support were Resist, who were quite unspeakably bad. Think French and Saunders do goth ballads. Someone on the Fall messageboard wrote: "Jesus Christ. Resist are SHIT. Some kind of in joke one presumes." But I suspect they were just from Up North, where irony is thinner on the ground and PVC corsets and fishnets never go out of fashion.

But it was fun. And for our added entertainment there was Stripy Sock Girl, who was hammered before *anyone* came on stage and threw herself round the place like a deranged headbanger, doing high kicks and spitting beer at her friends before snogging them. She was a little bit captivating and a little bit excruciating and a little bit terrifying. I did feel sad for her when she got chucked out just before the band came on. On another night, in another place, I have been that girl.

I feel one Fall gig in a lifetime's probably enough, but it was a great night.

joella

Wearing badges is not enough

I spent two and a half hours in the hairdresser's yesterday. So if you know me and you see me you better notice the hair, ok? But I digress.

For about half of those two and a half hours I was reading celeb mags. (Kylie is being very brave. Kate Moss is in rehab in Arizona and also being very brave. Victoria Beckham isn't eating enough, but Romeo is sick and she's being very brave. Jennifer Aniston has made up with her mother but isn't over Brad yet and is still being very brave. Katie Holmes will have to give birth to her Scientology baby silently and without drugs so will have to be very brave.)

A substantial proportion of the female population reads these magazines every week. It's easy to argue that they are mostly harmless, but they did leave me feeling (as they always do) a little bit disgusted with myself and at the same time a little bit envious of those bodies, those clothes, that shiny lifestyle. And a little bit ashamed of feeling like that. Great.

Then I came home and read a really bloody depressing article in the Guardian about the male equivalents -- Nuts, Zoo and Loaded. It's all harmless fun you see. Men aren't so stupid that they can't tell the difference between Paris Hilton tied up in the nip and the women in their own lives. "It's pure escapism. They know real women aren't like that," said the editor of Loaded.

Yeah well of course they do, but doesn't it make them feel just a little bit shit about themselves? Just shit enough to not want to do it very often?

I think they're all a bit like speed. Cheap and rushy, but sapping of your life force in general and your more generous personality traits in particular.

As an antidote, I'm working through my Billy Bragg back catalogue. And later we're off to see the Fall. If that doesn't work, I'm not sure what will.

joella

Diversity in action

Came home late drunk and with munchies. Boyfriend already in, drunk and with munchies. No crisps in the house. Apologised for being so shortsighted as to walk past multiple chips merchants while wending home.

Having investigated every potential crisp-hoarding corner of the house, M stood on a chair in the conservatory so he could see into the middle room of the house next door.

"Have you got any crisps?"
"Or Pringles?"
"I know it's Ramadan but it is after dark."

I don't think they heard him. Thank the Lord.

joella

TUNE!

I have had Damian Marley's Welcome to Jamrock in my head for WEEKS now. Every time I see 'Welcome to GMail', Welcome to Waitrose, Welcome to anything with two syllables in, it kicks it off again. When this happens when I'm walking down the street I start to do a little skip in time with the beat. If I'm at my desk I move my chin backwards and forwards. People are starting to give me a wide berth. I downloaded the single from iTunes before the internet broke. I think I'll just have to go and get me the whole damn album.

joella

When Darcus met Joan

I started listening to Midweek yesterday. This is unusual in itself, as I generally find Libby Purves a bit shallow, luvvy and generally irritating. On top of this, three out of four of her guests -- Joan Rivers, Jackie Collins and Darcus Howe -- I find pretty unbearable, albeit each in their own special way.

But my interest was piqued by guest number four, plant photographer Andrea Jones, and I hung on in there until Darcus kicked in in his usual domineering ponderous style, at which point I said 'oh, shut *up*' and switched off the radio.

Wish I hadn't though, as it sounds like it all got a Lot More Interesting.

joella

Fade to grey

The New Building is grey. It has occasional 'hey! aren't we creative!' splashes of red ('warm breakout areas') and blue ('cool breakout areas') but the predominant colour in its palate is no colour at all, and this is compounded by the fact that you need written permission in triplicate from the Facilities Manager to put anything on the walls. So they also remain grey, except for small posters next to the desks of those brave enough to defy him. Plants are allowed, but only grey ones. (I made that bit up).

This had a kind of modern starkness in the summer, when the skies were blue, but today I look past the grey walls and through the grey blinds and out to heavy grey skies. In the distance is the grey BMW factory.

If it weren't for the red apple on my desk and my own (well M's) bright green cardigan I'd begin to wonder if someone had reset my brain. I think I'll play Paint it Black to cheer myself up a bit.

joella

Buying tools at the hospice

At the invitation of R&T we spent a very enjoyable but frankly quite surreal Saturday morning at Nettlebed Hospice, which every month hosts the mother, father, aunt and uncle of all charity jumble sales.

I had in fairness been forewarned by R, who explained that there are many sheds and outbuildings, and each has a specific function. There is the curtain shed, for example, and the record hut. But nothing can quite prepare you for the reality... hundreds if not thousands of people swarming through these incredibly beautiful grounds in the middle of nowhere frantically buying a million different kinds of tat. Second-hand duvets -- you just wouldn't, would you?

The sale is staffed by (mostly) elderly men and women in aprons, who spend much of the month accepting and sorting donated goods. Forks are separated from spoons, ribbon from elastic, shoes by size, books by genre and author, furniture by room. Then on the day they look sidelong at your selection and say '50p the lot, my dear'.

I bought some curly metal shelf brackets (£1) which can be used in the garden to hang lamps, bird-seed etc. I bought a right-angle measurer (there's another name for these) (50p) which I need for plumbing. I bought some hooks-and-eyes and some press-studs (10p) which I need for minor clothing repairs. And I bought some books (4 for £2.50, not sure how the maths worked there). There was a narrow escape over a mustard coloured armchair for a fiver, and a beautiful old lump hammer.

I couldn't face the clothing huts, as they were so busy they were working on a one in one out queue, and at one point I slipped away from the vase stall and went for a little sit in the gardens, which are stunning in an old country house Capability Brown sort of way, all mature trees and many shades of green.

On the way back in I passed a big metal cage against the wall. When I peered in I saw it was full of empty medical oxygen cylinders. All this mayhem is of course to raise funds to help the people upstairs die a good death. What an amazing country we live in.

joella

It goes a little something like this...

Woman who rarely gets headaches starts getting regular headaches at work. (This follows move to New Building, but she does not realise the link initially.) Headaches become particularly acute when using Dreamweaver to do website updates, as this requires fiddly detailed stuff and lots of squinting.

Woman notices her monitor is flickering rather a lot, and calls helpdesk. Helpdesk remove monitor, which is new and still under warranty, and replace with temporary (inferior standard) substitute.

Temporary substitute flickers too, only a bit worse. Woman calls helpdesk again. Helpdesk replace graphics card.

Temporary monitor still flickers. Helpdesk advise that problem is due to proximity of monitor to PC tower in New Building set up and advise replacement of monitor with TFT (flat screen) alternative. Helpdesk do not bring back original monitor, despite repeated requests.

Woman completes compulsory health and safety workstation assessment following move to New Building, noting flickering and marking workstation set-up as requiring management action. Woman prints off action sheet for discussion with manager.

Not completely convinced of direct link between flickering and headaches, and freaked out by increasing severity of headaches, woman also makes appointment at opticians to check glasses prescription.

Optician reports that eyesight has not deteriorated but asks if there has been any change in work set up. Woman describes Office Move and setup in New Building. Optician postulates that headaches are due to monitor on new desk being closer to woman than her eyes are comfortable with, thus causing stress headaches which are exacerbated by flickering and also pop up at weekends as eyes are stressed and tired, and advises getting a) TFT monitor which can be moved further away or b) getting special VDU glasses which have in-built 'prism' lenses.

Woman returns to work and proposes purchase of TFT monitor to manager, based on recommendations of helpdesk and opticians, and in order to address health and safety issue highlighted by (compulsory!) workstation assessment. Manager agrees.

Director refuses to sign off £150 purchase order for new monitor as woman is leaving team for another one round the corner once she has served out every nanosecond of her 12 week notice period and therefore her new manager should pay for it.

Woman decides not to update website until new monitor is purchased.

Nobody notices.

ENDS

So that kind of sums up a small but significant chunk of my workplace relations over the last six weeks. Next week, I predict this will happen:

Woman starts going home at 3.30 every day, announcing loudly "I am going home with a headache, caused by my faulty workstation set up and flickering monitor".

What are they going to do, sack me?

joella

The Blessed Virgin with miniature conifers

The Blessed Virgin with miniature conifers
Originally uploaded by joellaflickr.

And verily the Lord did say unto us: "More Aubretia!"

Lack of internet access has given me impetus to sort out some of last year's photos... I love this one. I spent many of my formative hours in this church in Lytham St Annes, although had run screaming by the age of 15.

Negotiating skills

I need to get better at negotiating. I'm tring to agree with my current boss when I can start my new job. My new boss says come soon come soon! My old boss says twelve weeks from the day we received your notice in writing. I say where's the red wine, because midweek obliteration is the only thing that's making sense to me at the moment.

joella

Rushing to the Hospital in Islamabad

I've realised how much I rely on the web to feel connected to what's going on in the world. I only had the TV and radio news this weekend to inform me about the earthquake in Pakistan, India and Afghanistan, and it was strange. I felt a lot more passive than (say) during the tsunami aftermath, where I scoured NGO websites, bbc.co.uk and individuals' blogs, looking for the human angle, reading different perspectives.

So I was pleased to get to a robust internet connection this morning. I am of course aware that in the scheme of things there are bigger things to worry about than my ability to look at Flickr, but I think first person reportage and commentary is one of the wonders of the web, and the world would be poorer without it.

Check out Rushing to the Hospital in Islamabad. Not sure if he took this himself, but it's an amazing photo.

joella

wot, no internet?

Something's badly up with our broadband. It comes, it goes. This weekend, it's mostly been gone, except briefly on Friday night when I was far too drunk to attempt to write anything. I've missed it. And I feel the need to be brief as it may go again at any moment.

So. Highlights of the last week:

(keyword Istanbul): bridges, skylines, bonito, meze, raki, minarets, ferries, rainbows, hammams, bloody Marys, menemem, Mr B, Z the cat

(keyword plumbing): solder, blowtorch

(keyword 'day job'): Xanadu, transliterature, Theodore Zeldin, Oxford Muse

Lowlights of the last week:

(keyword 'home improvements'): Carpet World, bathroom grime, PMT

joella

Crazy sky over Istanbul

We got off the tram after a rainstorm and there was an apocalyptic sunset to the west and a perfect rainbow to the east. It was like two alternative views of the future. Two minutes later, they'd both faded.

More tomorrow when the broadband's fixed... but I think on this weekend's evidence Turkey will be a great asset to the EU. Not so sure what's in it for them...

joella