A Strange Old Week
A Strange Old Week
It has been a strange old week. A busy one. In no particular order or preference, there has been flooding across much of the country, a new (ish) Prime Minister, terrorist attacks in London and in Glasgow (and arrests on the M6 at Sandbach, VERY near where we live), a couple of funerals, a ban on smoking in public places, a phone call from my mom and dad who are on holiday in Canada, a meeting with a Head Hunter, Birmingham City have signed two new players, Brian has brought Rory back home to Ambridge in the Archers, Charlie has somehow survived another week in the Big Brother House, and, we have run out of oil.
It is Sunday. C is upstairs, trapped in her study, trying to make progress on an assignment that she has to complete by next Friday as part of her psychotherapy course. She is very disciplined. Very dedicated. She will be locked away until either she completes the task, or, the urge of a nicotine fix kicks in. Following the Government ban on the 1st July, our lounge is now one of the few places left in this great nation of ours where C can smoke without risking a fine or public derision. This week I even got a letter from the leasing company reminding me that my company car is designated a workplace and that smoking is, therefore, banned.
Fortunately I do not smoke. I never have. And, even if I had, I am sure I would never have smoked in a car. Far too enclosed a space. But, C will be OK with the ban. She only really smokes in the evening, just four or five a night, and is very aware of her smoke and prefers not to smoke when eating or when others would be offended.
Maslow, our furball baby cat, has been a bit fractious today. There have been several episodes of “mad cat”, when he stares with wild, wide eyes at imaginary monsters, drops his tail, and bounces around the room like a lunatic feather-duster on speed. It might be the weather. It is very wet and windy. He doesn’t like the wind. It might be because C is ensconced in her study and he is not getting the attention he seeks. Or, it might be because I released the little “present” that he brought us this morning – a little robin red-breast. I managed to retrieve it from Maslow’s mouth and release it through the dining room window. It was a little shocked and chewed but unpierced and he flew away under his own steam, thankfully.
As for the funerals, I attended one and sent a memorial message to the other. The funeral that I attended was of our neighbour’s father. A lovely man. The one I didn‘t attend was that of a work colleague. He was also a lovely man. His death was maybe even more tragic in that he was so young and it was suicide – maybe only a year or so older than I am. Such a waste. God Bless both.
Anyhow, with C at work upstairs, I am at home with the Sunday Times, listening to Radio 4 and the frequent, heavy showers outside. I am glowing slightly and emitting a faint pink radiation. I have not long returned from five minutes in a stand-up sunbed. Consequently, I am a tad flushed and smell a little singed. Which is unfortunate really as a shower is out of the question. This is because we have run out of heating oil and so have neither hot water nor heating since Friday. I doubt that they will deliver before Wednesday, which means a couple of early mornings having a stand up wash in cold water, and, shaving and washing hair by boiling kettles. Lovely.
I have applied for three jobs this morning. One out of the paper and the other two as a result of the many, many, many email prompts that I receive from all of the recruitment agencies that I am now registered with. Getting a job is a full-time job in itself. I met with a Head Hunter on Thursday (a recruitment specialist rather than a wild man from Borneo).He seemed quite hopeful, and the job that he described would certainly be of interest. He said he will probably be able to tell me tomorrow if I will be called for an interview. So, fingers crossed!
In the meantime, I am desperately trying to conjure up some enthusiasm about Gordon Brown’s arrival at Number 10. I would like to believe that he is genuine in his cabinet approach and a Government of “all talents” but I am guarded in my enthusiasm. I still feel badly let down by Blair and his lies that took us to war in Iraq. And Brown is the least impressive front man that I have ever seen. He is such a dull speaker. So monotone. I find myself drifting off when he is talking, even when it is about something as important as the latest terrorist threats. And, I can’t seem to get beyond that slack-jawed gagging thing that he does with his mouth. So, the jury is still out………as indeed, it is on Brum’s latest signings, Garry O’Connor and Olivier Kapo. So, watch this space.
Incidentally, it is a bit worrying that suspect terrorists were arrested near Sandbach on the M6 – if I stand on tip-toe in my garden I can almost see the spot where the police stopped the traffic and pounced. It is a little too close to home. Especially, since the failed car bomb in London was outside of the Tiger Tiger nightclub, being the last place that I “hit the town” in at a colleague’s leaving do. The food and service was crap, by the way. But, why are they picking on me……
Entry filed under: Pets, Politics. Tags: big brother, flooding, funeral, Gordon Brown, head hunter, heating oil, job application, mad cat, nicotine, sandbach, smoking, smoking ban, suicide, sunbed, terrorism, terrorist attack, the archers, Tiger Tiger.