Annoying

Well folks it's official; James 'gift to rhyming slang' Blunt, has polled as more annoying than Traffic Wardens, tailgaters and Estate Agents.

However, the love rat has work to do if he's going to make number 1 as inexplicably, cold callers, caravans and queue-jumpers still out rank him.

I have every faith in the man to rectify this.

Evolution of a Worshipper

Personally I came in at stage four, fleetingly tried regressing to stage three on rare occassions (due mainly to peer pressure), but it never 'took' and from there progressed swiftly to stage five.

I think I've been stuck with my hands in my pockets for quite a while now and feel quite at home.

Though I do at cast stage six an understanding glance every now and again, so you never know.

Cartoon courtesy of Dave Walker at Cartoon Church. He's getting married this week, so why not make his day and buy something from his site. After all, honeymoons don't pay for themselves.

IQ Time wasting

Caroline has blogged a link to another time wasting site - Test your IQ here.

I did the test and clicked 'show details' on the results page and apparently:

Your IQ score is 142!

Your mind's strengths allow you to think ahead of the game -- to imagine or anticipate what should happen next in just about any situation. Because you're equally skilled in the numerical and verbal universes of the brain, you can draw from multiple sources of information to come up with new ideas and this makes you a Visionary Philosopher.

You also have a knack for matching and anticipating patterns in all sorts of situations, a talent that adds to your visionary philosopher mind.

Not sure that sounds terribly like me...

Caroline also links to another site, which tells you more. Like typical occupations:

140 - Top Civil Servants; Professors and Research Scientists.
130 - Physicians and Surgeons; Lawyers; Eng1neers (Civil and Mechanical)

See! I knew I was too clever to be an Eng1neer!

Not sure I prefer any of the 140 alternatives though; civil servant? No thanks.

Still as crappy internet tests go it does prove one thing. Sally, Caroline and I are, in the words of the latter site, "Very Superior".

I've always thought as much...

Good scores all round though. They couldn't just be trying to flatter us into parting with money could they? No surely not. Maybe the greatest testament to our intelligence is that none of us signed up.

Still, 142 ain't bad eh?

I still can't balance on the unicycle for more than 20 seconds though...

Unicycle Challenge

I know of at least one blogger that should be good at this...

Workload induced ‘Bad Person Syndrome’

There are signs when I’m overloaded, I start forgetting things. Things I shouldn’t forget.

I went to all the meetings I had to go to at work. Right place, right time, armed with the right information. Check.

Tonight I should have had Book Group (in the end it got cancelled at the last minute) – however, I remembered to take the book in question with me to work. Check.

I remembered I was going to Stuart and K’s house straight from work to call in at their BBQ – Check.

I remembered this would the last time I would be seeing T and E before they emigrate to Canada (or return home in E’s case). Check.

I remembered to take their card and present with me in the morning. Check.

I remembered to ring S&K to see if I should bring anything, now that I would be staying for the BBQ and not rushing on to Book Group. Check.

I remembered to stop at Sainsburys and pick up said items. Check.

I remember to check emails at S&Ks and reply to urgent Greenbelt ones. Check.

All going well don’t you think?

Too well really. There has to be something I’ve forgotten.

That’ll be that the soiree has two purposes; farewell to T&E and happy birthday to KittyK (eldest ‘favourite niece’).

Bugger.

I am indeed a very bad person. A bad Aunt who does not deserve to be loved lots and lots.

In the course of the evening I try various attempts to wiggle out of it.

“Well what did you get me for my bir…oh yeah you made me that amazing Malteser cake”.

Damn that one backfired.

“Well you got loads of presents today, whereas I buy you stuff at other times, like the stuff I brought back from Scotland.”

Better, better.

“And frankly I’m still waiting for a thank you letter for that!”

Fifteen all.

A little later KittyK enquires:

“Aunty L1z? Do you have real nieces at all.”

“Yes I have one. And if she ever found out I called you lot my favourite nieces I’d be in trouble.”

“Do you see her much?”

“Once in a while, they live in London.”

“How old is she?”

“Just turned eight the other week.”

“Did you get her a present?”

Ouch!

Game, set and match to KittyK.

Hats off to her, a fine stitch up.

Mind you, when I got home, I found in my letter box a pink envelope from London. In it, in best eight year old hand writing, was a thank you letter from my 'real' niece.

I had to laugh.

Almost a night off

A Greenbelt friend is in Manchester with work and has suggested meeting up. It’s all a bit vague, but Stuart suggests we plan to go for a drink and curry anyway (apparently my buddy feels I need a night off from the Greenbelt work) and work out the details with Jim in due course.

I agree on the condition it’s early, as I will have to do some Greenbelt work when I get back and I don’t want to be stupidly late to bed (for a change).

So after work I pick up Stuart (ok I go on his computer and do an hour of Greenbelt work, but you know…) and head to the pub to meet T, A and M, the demob happy teachers.

After a quick round, we head to the Punjab for a good nosh and the usual ritual abuse from the waiters.

I do slightly worry about the reputation I’m gaining in that place, this being the third time I’ve turned up with the husband of one of their regular families… Still the lovely K is with us in a way, as she rings and we both have a good natter with her about how the break to Alton Towers is going.

Jim apparently is planning to eat first and then meet us (I’m told the man doesn’t like curries – weirdo!), but it’s gone quarter past ten when he rings and we’re already heading out the door.

Ah well it may not have gone as planned, but it was a lovely night off.

Well except I get home and do another couple of hours on the emails.

The Wit of the Staircase

L’espirt d’escalier – which I’m told is the posh way of describing the thought of what you should have said, that you have as you close the door or walk down the stairs.

See what I should have said in reply to odious man’s refusal to drop the patronising terms on the basis of "it’s the way I was brought up to speak where I come from", was:

"Where I was brought up, we call people like you wankers, but I’ll try not to use the term to your face if you’d rather I didn’t…"

I was only asking...

My washing machine has died a sad and noisy death, so having done some basic research on-line, tonight after work I call in at a retail park and enter large electrical retailer the purposes of this story we’ll call Retailer X.

After ten minutes or so one of their employees, a middle aged man, walks past and in decidedly patronising tone (which was strangely absent when he was speaking to male customers) enquires: “You alright there darling? Do you know what you’re doing, or do you need some help sweetie?”

“Well I do have some questions” say I. “Ok luvey, I’ll send someone over.”

Ten minutes go by as I pour over the information booklet and try and reconcile kwh levels with different functions (I’m considering a washer dryer, but being a good eco kid I’ll only use the dryer part in rare circumstances, so my primary concerns are the energy and water usage in the washing cycle), but still no assistant.

The same guy comes back past. “Did someone come and help you darling?”, he asks. “Errrr not as yet” I reply. “Sorry about that sweetie, I’ll get someone to come straight over”.

Ten minutes later, still no assistant, but yer man reappears, apologising for the delay, he can help me now. “No problem” say I, “I can see you’re busy”.

“So how can I help you darling?” he asks.

“Well I want to buy a washer dryer, but if possible could you not call me ‘darling’ or ‘sweetie’, only I don't really like it” say I, in what I promise was a light smiley manner (no, really I know sometimes I’d say something like that dripping with sarcasm, but I was actually in a good mood and put it as a very polite, light-natured request…honest!).

“Sorry no I can’t” he replied “it’s the way I was brought up to speak where I come from”.

“That’s ok, it’s not a big deal, I'm only asking that you try your best not to. If you could just try I’d really appreciate it" I say, again very pleasantly, adding jokingly “and you’ll be much more likely to close the sale! ".

To which he replies aggressively “I can see our personalities are going to clash, this isn’t going to work.”

Well bugger me, but I thought I was just asking about a washing machine, not proposing a long term relationship.

“Ok, maybe I could speak to someone else then?” I suggest lightly, not about to have my mood dragged down, by this knuckle scrapper.

“I don’t know”.

“Ok, no problem” I say, still smiling, but now in a rather bemused way, “I guess I’ll just take my money next door”.

I exit.

Next door in Retailer Y, a wonderful saleswoman, answers all my questions, gets the technical brochures for me…couldn’t be more helpful. Job done. As I go to leave, I thank her profusely for all her help and confess that I’d walk out of next door, because the sales guy was so obnoxious.

“We get a lot of people in here saying that” she replies.

Dull

It feels very self-absorbed to keep blogging about Greenbelt work, but at this time of the year, what else is there to say? Maybe I should just say nothing, but hey this blog is as much (if not more) for me as it is for any third party reader, so I guess I shall continue to blog the mundane twaddle for a while yet.

Nothing exciting happened this weekend you see. No shoes were bought, no curries eaten, no gigs attended, no hair coloured, no BBQs lit...it’s been a weekend of work and rest.

It’s very weird to have a whole weekend when I don’t leave the house (well except to go in the garden).

But heck I even cut the grass and did some tidying up, so all in all I’m feeling pretty virtuous.

Just a bit dull.

Not a party girl

It’s been a long week, both in terms of day job and festival preparation. A lot of things seem to be cropping up very late this year. Mostly involving people wanting to set fire to things (a fine ambition in my book, but requiring lots of approvals).

By mid-afternoon a choice faces me, continue working for the day and hopefully break the back of some of the key issues, to go to T and A’s leaving party.

I can’t believe I’m making this decision, but something has to give. Trying to maintain a social life at this time of year is probably an unrealistic expectation, but even so.

Cumbria and That Cafe

The projects I’m working on right now are by definition in the middle of nowhere, all across the North West.

Most of the time though I end up stuck in the design visit, whilst my team undertake the needed site visits.

Today however, the Client and I had to undertake a meeting and a couple of site visits deep in the heart of the Lake District. The investigation side of this had us traipsing up and down hills, which was hot work, but with surroundings like this who can complain?

Very tiring though, so on the way back I text P&S to see if they’re up for an impromptu visit to That Café to catch the Early Bird deal. Anything to avoid having to cook (I’m knackered from all the fresh air) and a strong desire to be out of the house and hence separated from the computer and Greenbelt emails for a few hours at least. Happily they respond in the positive, I love spontaneous meet ups like this.

Excellent food (as if it would be otherwise!) to the extent that the waitress clearing our very clean starter plates (yes P did use a finger…) commented that she didn’t have to ask if the food was ok.

Back home just after 9pm and onto the computer to try and fight back the wave of emails that have come in today. Whilst on, B catches me on IM and we have a real good catch up on Venue Management. Still a lot of work to do, but he’s done wonders in the last couple of weeks to get it back on track. I just hope he hasn’t driven himself too hard, or as I comment, some sleep, at least occasionally, is a good idea.

Talking of which…

Festival work and sea birds

Every evening at the moment involves hours and hours of Greenbelt work, often into the wee small hours. It’s that time of the year.

Sometimes I have the TV on in the background showing Big Brother or something that needs similar low levels of attention, other times my working is accompanied by tunes from my lovely iPod.

Something strange has happened over the last few weeks.

Intrigued by radio play that had me going "hmmm I like that, who's it by?" I purchased the Guillemots album when it was realeased last week. It's a very interesting sound and I find myself decidedly liking it.

I expect the hand of a good producer has kept the wailing bird noises to a level where they are interesting not overwhelming like they were when I saw them live last December.

Right now I can’t get the single Made up Love Song #43 out of my head.

Self-indulgent Ranting - deleted scenes

On second thoughts, let's save that pile of personal twaddle for the Director's Cut eh?

Belated photos

Sometimes it seems to take forever to get a camera in the same place as the thing you want to photograph and then get the photo uploaded to the web.

Or in other words I’m been meaning to blog this since Saturday…

Saturday morning I’m half awake when the doorbell goes and the postie hands me a jiffy bag that was slightly too thick for my rather narrow letterbox.

Clearly Paddington has been eating too many marmalade sandwiches…

Dressed for the Mancunion weather (for other suggestions see the comments on Caroline’s blog), I too have a lovely little bear friend now, courtesy of the wonderful Sally.

Better still, also included in the package is a wonderful Paperchase notebook and some matching stickers.



Excellent.

Last year I bought my young niece a whole pile of this very Paperchase stuff; stickers, mugs, notepads, pens, playing cards, photo album, pencil tin…the works. As someone wisely observed “you’re really shopping for the things you wish you could buy for yourself, aren’t you?”. Oh the irony, when we’re young we can’t afford it, now we’re old we can’t justify it.

But Goddamnit I want a notepad with plastic animal tags attached for no clear reason.

And now I have one.

Look, it’s true…zoom in and you’ll see…through the cover...on the first page, it clearly says in Sally’s handwriting: “Liz’s Notepad”…



I have such excellent friends.

Summer days and summer nights

Another easy day of rest and bits of work, interspersed with sitting in the garden watching vapour trails criss-cross the sky.

P&S come round for a BBQ in the evening and P and I again use the opportunity to make the most of the dying embers to clear some of the garden waste/indulge the pyromaniac within.



Of course if you stare at flames long enough you can start to see things.

The ink blots for a BBQ generation.

As darkness falls I try the other bubble generator I bought cheap in Tescos. This one uses flourescent liquid and then has blue lights that make the bubbles glow in the dark.

Very pretty, but hard to capture on a phone camera…