On the job training

Time is marching on... but seriously MARCHing on. How can it be nearly time to change the clocks back? How does life just slip away so fast? I WANT AN ANSWER! THIS IS NOT A RHETORICAL QUESTION! (Well, really, it is. But it's so cliché that I felt the need to step away from tradition).

Over two months in my job and so am settling in. I've gotten on the bandwagon with organising happy hours and like the company of the girl who is attached to my desk, so that's lucky. Career-wise, I would say that the most environmentally related thing I've learned in the past couple weeks is that the Northeast of England is third highest for percent of salmon rod catch. All other learning is wedding etiquette. Most important things to note:
1) It is the _groom's_ responsibility to buy gifts for the bridesmaids;
2) the Mother-of-the-groom only gets to choose her dress after the mother-of-the-bride has chosen hers, the dresses cannot be the same color, and they most certainly should not be cream, ivory, ecru, or anything nearing the color reserved for the bride;
3) If the mother-of-the-bride wears a hat, all the ladies at the wedding have to wear a hat AND they're not allowed to remove their hats until the mother-of-the-bride does!

Every moment spent not learning is spent observing my colleagues, mostly because they're fun to watch. The two Richards always go together to get their drinks. I don't know why, but it's like watching girls going to the bathroom together... I can almost see them in high heels, with their elbows linked as they furtively whisper about work gossip. In actuality, they trudge a bit, exchange a Tim Allen grunt or two, and come back bearing cups of tea.

There is, of course, life outside the office. It goes on much as before.

I hurt my back on the trampoline and have been advised not to bounce for two whole weeks. I've taken this advice to mean something akin to "sit around on the couch, watch crappy quiz shows, and shove potato chips into your face whilst waiting for your wife to come home from the gym". It's really not doing much for my figure. It does amazing things for Sinéad though, since I'm eating up all the chips.


The Thing that most annoyed me in the news today (goodness it's hard to just pick one!)

What's really getting on my tits lately is the hoopla over Jade. Americans might have no idea who this is? Correct me if I'm wrong. It's a woman who was on Big Brother and was an annoying chav. She then became famous for being annoying and did a turn on Celebrity Big Brother (neither of which I have seen, by the way). While on the second TV she was thrown off for being racist, caused a big hoopla, and everyone in the UK and in the press hated her. And then she got cancer and she is the nation's darling. Which is weird, but somewhat understandable, but what annoys me is the minute-by-minute updates of her health that the news people give. This morning I got dressed to hear all about how she's gone blind in one eye.

It's all well and good to be sympathetic but everything this woman is going through is publicized. She has an agent to manage her cancer publicity. There's a debate about whether she's planning on publicizing the moment of death. WHAT IS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE?!

Related Links:
Jade goes blind
Wedding Etiquette

Two weeks and counting…

So, I’ve begun my new job, I’m still in the awkward first few days when you don’t know quite enough to actually do anything but when you’ve read absolutely every piece of literature even somewhat related to the organisation and can’t stuff any more annual figures into your head.

I’ve been acclimating to the sheer concept of not being unemployed, not being able to spend 24 hours a day with Sinead, and going through some serious www-surfing withdrawal.

I get to take the train in the morning. For better or worse, I can’t seem to make myself leave the house late enough to cut my waiting time below ten minutes. I stand against the wall, shivering and huddling under my bent pink umbrella waiting for the train, only to be pushed aside by the horde of passengers who manage to arrive exactly one minute before the train is scheduled to depart, even when it’s been delayed. There must either be some sort of text or email update system available (which I doubt, I mean, this is Britain) or else there’s some sort of morphic resonance for commuters that I haven’t tapped into yet.

The office is comfortable enough, less than a ten minute walk from the train station, which means that I am, in general, carried along in the streams of humanity watching carefully not to miss my jump out and into Park Square. I match the general spec of a commuter these days, given the dress code which not only prohibits bare feet and Bermuda short (hail Mark Lothar Gunther) but jeans, khakis, and non-posh looking tops as well!

It’s an open plan office, but newly so. Apparently walls have recently come down (there still being some debate as to whether they were supporting walls or not) and people have still not been educated about the difference between “open plan office” voices and “running from a lion” voices. It is on my list of things to do to ask my manager whether or not I can wear ear plugs at work. Unlike Oxfam, there are no little break away study rooms where one can go to concentrate if one needs to. Having spoken about this to some of the people (the quieter ones) in my general environs I’ve realized that one does not get used to the insane amount of noise that ricochets around the building.

The kitchens are sufficient, if small, and there’s always a vague odour of cologne and toast lingering in the hallways. Except for one floor down where, I suspect, the plumbing needs a little help. Let it be said only that I hold my breath when making my way to the colour copier on the 1st floor.

I’ve been given some objectives, one being partial responsibility in planning the team’s environmental day out (we get two days of environmental leave in addition to our 25 days of holiday) and another being to put together position papers on the State of the Environment for our region and areas. So it’s diverse, so far interesting, and I get to learn to play with GIS. For the moment, it’s a good place to be. And once I’ve won over the team with my winning smile, delightful charm, and occasional biscuits, I reckon I’ll feel quite as home.

Related Links:
Environment Agency
What is GIS?

Home

I guess I'm home. Really, truly home.

Having returned from a trip back from the States, I find myself more than content to imagine being in this cozy little house for awhile longer. I might have looked quickly online to see if there were cheap flights to the Barbados... and I may have surreptitiously scanned various train options to the Highlands, but, overall, I'm quite satisfied with my little home and my little wife and, it would seem, being in Yorkshire is part of all that. So here I am, for the first time in a long time, realizing that I'm exactly where I want to be.

Quick tidy up (and a bit of a grumpy f*cker)

Given that I've been unemployed, one might have expected a higher number of blog updates than usual. That is not an unreasonable expectation and yet I have failed to deliver. Something about getting too caught up in SIMs2 or walks across the moors. But perhaps, more likely, the feeling of the most severe self-disappointment and lack of self-worth that comes with being unable to obtain employment despite a high number of academic qualifications as well as related professional experience. Such sentiments are surely not conducive to high amounts of blogging about the details of one's existence. At least, so it would seem, in this instance.

Luckily, all that is over. I have, for all intents and purposes, secured a position with the Environment Agency. I can now nod enthusiastically at all the folk who assured me that it would eventually happen, that good things come to those who wait, that sometimes it's just a matter of being patient for the right opportunity to come along. Yes, yes, and yes. All pithy comments are acknowledged and accepted. But despite the obvious manifestation of their veracity there is still an underlying resentment at the facility with which they were spoken when I was finding it hard to lift my head from my arms. And an prolonged uneasiness as I wait out the next few weeks in anticipation of the return of my CRB.

Still, in heed of the platitudes, I shall stay positive and assume that everything's going to be all right. Come January 12, I'll hopefully be a working girl with all the lovely income that entails. And, quite probably, with a bit more material to put into my blogs.

How it feels to be free...

Already hosted a dinner for Paula and Thomas and a weekend for Marta. Already had a cawfee in the city with a friend. Already almost killed two of the six thousand plants that the landlady left behind. Already did seven loads of washing. Already celebrated a thirty third birthday. Already wanting more people to come and visit. Already stepped into every pub in the village boundaries (one is very posh, one is very naff, one is very same-y, and one smells of vomit). Already got the internet set up and the boxes unpacked in the spare room. Already been sick twice. Already miss my friends. Already tramped around Bradford and Leeds, pounding on the doors of uninterested recruitment consultants. Already found the house we want to buy if we get jobs. Already found three skate parks, not that we skate. Already had something from Amazon delivered. Already went on a five mile walk in the moors. Already ordered pizza (which was so awful it didn't matter that two pizzas came to less than eight pounds). Already had to fill the gas tank up twice. Already tried out all the parks in walking distance. Already started running again and signed up for a 10K. Already convinced that this was the right decision. Already happier to be here than we thought possible. All ready to make this our home.

Photos on Facebook

Cowley Road

lovin' the cowley road

today i took a proper ramble down the cowley road... mostly in search of cawfee as I had none in the house. but i was glad for it, despite the closed-ness of the shops and of all the cafes that i had intended on popping into. for one, the sun was shining (in Oxford, *gasp!), officially the first full day of sun since May.

And as i came out from the wee foresty path that runs past Oxford Community School, i found an Asian lady, sat on a carpet on the footpath, peddling gourds. Not a familiar sight, even on the Cowley Road, but strangely comforting and with a sense of belonging. As i had no need for a gourd, i didn't stop to comment on her veg, though had i done so, i might have pointed out that she might have been a bit too far off the beaten path to drum up much business. Also, she happened to have placed herself smack dab in between two allotments. Likely that the passers-by in that particular road had gourds of their own. But perhaps not.

From there to the Restore Cafe, not open, but a perfect space for sitting in the prettiness having a cuppa. Then to Baba, not open till five. Further on down the road... Costa. Nah, too typical and chain market for the Cowley Road. G&Ds would be perfect except it's all indoor seating and who could be inside on a day like today?

Past all the murals and the asian shops and the turkish shops and the greek deli. Past the Raja House, past Nandos, past the scary Beauty Lounge where they wax your legs in their front room, past the ethical office building, and the corner bar that's changed names five times since i moved to Oxford. Past Red Star, past the Tescos from hell, past the Age Concern, the Oxfam Shop, Barnardos, and Reign. Past the community centre that might get shut down for not paying the rent. And the churches. And the independent cinema that only ever shows An Inconvenient Truth. Past Marios and Chicken Cottage, past the games shop and VideoSyncratic. Past fifteen bike shops and on down the road that i could navigate with my eyes shut (but probably would get hit by a car, bus, bike, or big issue seller, if not all four at once).

End up in the Kazbar, by the open window, watching the wackos and the tourists go by, drinking two pound espressos, eating free tapas (chick peas and harissa), and reading a book about a man who decided to swim across Britain... what could be better?

Did i mention the sun was shining?

Related Links
Indeed, Harissa is not a bean!

Plan B, here we come!

Seeing as I'm apparently unemployable (a fair bit a self-deprecation is only to be expected at this point), we're off to Plan B*. Sinéad and I have found ourselves a sweet little house to rent "up north". Technically we'll be living in Bradford, but the mere name seems to send a shiver up the spines of even the hardiest southern brits, so we like to say "Leeds" or "near Shipley". Goes over much better and you get fewer sympathetic looks.

We're moving up at the end of September and have many fingers crossed that there will be some sort of positive job activity before that time. Still, it would seem that the temping market is bustling so we shouldn't have many worries about paying for our existence. So there you have it, the decision made. What began as a winsome discussion in mid-June has transformed into our hiring a medium-size and booking out the local for a big farewell bash.

For all them Yanks that still owe me a visit (Rachel, Edie, Robbie, Alison, Tara, Karen, the list really does go on and go...) look at flying into Leeds-Bradford or Manchester rather than London. Come and explore the Dales or join us on a wee wander to Hebden Bridge, which is apparently the lesbian capital of the north. On our brief sojourn, I will say that there were some wandering about the place, but no more than you might see at Victoria Station in London.

Stay tuned for all the trials and tribulations of job hunting and crap temp work... again. But not until after the 27th... until then I've got a mad social calendar (all them goodbyes) and a week in the South of France, watching Jo's ever-expanding belly.

*see previous post

Related Links:
Bradford
Yorkshire Dales
Lesbians swap Birks for Wellies (apparently)