Shine on

Enough of grown up coats and over-thinking; I need some sequins and sparkle!

I've enjoyed this week, as I knew I would.

Oh, not the getting up early, I never like that, but I don't mind the walk to school with Littlest. It's quite a sociable thing.

I've been charity shopping and to Chesterfield flea market, had coffees and catch-ups with friends, done my usual stint in school as a volunteer, and generally spent the week chit-chatting and laughing.

No wonder I struggle with working...

I seem to have lost my chazzing mojo at the moment, which considering the hideous state of January's finances, is no bad thing. 

I have seen 1950s velvet hats, 1960s wool coats, vintage linens and ceramics aplenty, all of which were very tempting, I admit. But I walked on by. 

Who knew I had it in me?

Jo and I loved being back at the flea market, but all I brought home was a cauliflower and a butternut squash.

How better to shake off tedious grown up angst than by wearing a child's t-shirt, pinched from Eldest, and a shiny metallic skirt?

The therapeutic nature of the outfit is all the more potent for the fact that it is composed of hand-me-downs and gifts from delightful blog friends.

T-shirt - hand-me-down

Cardigan and bangles - charity shopped

1970-80s metallic skirt - gift from divine dancing queen Sarah

Necklace - gift from luscious Leisa

Belt - retail (sale)

Boots - Ebay

Just one thing I have been a little less happy about this week...

Here's Seldom Seen Kid, off to school on Tuesday in his new glasses, looking mighty fine (if a little scruffy and in need of a haircut...)

By Wednesday, they were broken.

A kid ran into him, knocked him over, and the frame snapped at the side when he hit the deck.

Two days. TWO DAYS.

£60.

Bugger.

The opticians, who will not be enjoying our return custom, were spectacularly (ha) unhelpful and refused to try and fix them, so we have resorted to a DIY repair job, based on Superglue, hope and willpower. We'll see how long that lasts...

 And I am slightly concerned about this too;

my camellia is blooming but has that strange orange discolouration around the edges of the petals.

Any horticultural experts (les dames aux camellias, if you will) know what the problem is? I'm hoping it hasn't been attacked by some pest.

Camellia blight? Does it exist?

Otherwise, it is business as usual;

Jess is drinking out of the bird bath...

...and Charlie and Caspar from next door (although he seems to have forgotten he actually lives there and not in our house) are racing and chasing and play fighting. A moment later and they were a tangled, rolling mass of black and white, like a yin-yang symbol in feline motion.

The girls and I are off to see Oliver! at the Crucible Theatre tonight.

I'll be reviewing the situation in my next post.

And thank you for all your thoughtful and thought-provoking reflections on the subject of work in your comments on my previous post. I was fascinated by the discussion.
 

Oh, and I started tinkering about with my blog design, but only got as far as changing the header, and now I'm not sure I like it. It might be the first in a series of trial runs, just ignore me.

Have a great weekend, whatever you're doing!

xxxx

Working my way back to you

I call this my Grown Up Coat.

I don't wear it often, probably because a classic camel coat just doesn't feel like me, but it's great quality, and it seems a shame not to give it an airing now and again.

I wonder if it has hidden powers which provoke me to introspection? The last time I wore it, I felt aimless, adrift and dissatisfied. My Lucy Jordan moment...

And I've been pondering my situation again, reflecting on my recent experience of work, and as some of you have asked me what I thought about it all, I shall try to tell you. (The adage Be careful what you wish for may apply here.)

 

Did I love it? Not really.
Did I hate it? Not really.

I felt largely indifferent to the nature of the work itself, although I tried to approach it willingly. I found it tiring, and some of the late hours were hard going. Standing in the cold and rain at a lonely city centre bus stop at nearly midnight, waiting for the last bus which didn't come, I did think to myself what the fuck am I doing this for?

But I know my reasons;
it was a place to start, a cautious re-entry into the wonderful world of gainful employment, it brought in some extra cash to help pay for Christmas and the long dreary month that is January, it will hopefully provide a reference and useful recent work experience.

And if I'm honest, I enjoyed the fact of having a job again. Part of that is novelty value for me, admittedly, but I liked being able to give a straightforward answer to the question are you working? No need for a point-to-prove response about unpaid employment in the home or being a volunteer, a simple yes will do.

 

The bit I really enjoyed was the people.

Most of the customers I encountered were polite, pleasant and friendly, even when I didn't know the answers to their questions...

  I had some lovely chats with people while working on the fitting room.

 I talked babies with an exhausted and pregnant Mexican woman, slumped on the sofa while her husband tried on jeans, who was looking forward to flying home for Christmas.

 I sympathised with the self-conscious young man surrounded by his mum, sisters and girlfriend. all offering their views on the shirts he was trying on.

I laughed out loud at the bloke strutting down the fitting room corridor wearing swimming shorts and socks, while his wife hid her face in her hands and said no one else should have to see that! 

 I was amused by the woman who instructed her mortified but smiling husband to turn around and show me his backside to assess the fit of his Wranglers.

 

And I discovered there is a strange satisfaction in sorting out a display table or rails. It's called recovery; all that relentless putting back of stock where it should be, doing up buttons and zips, putting clothing in size order, folding jeans and jumpers, picking up the rubbish people leave behind, the broken hangers, the stock dropped on the floor...

Of course as soon as you've done it, like Sisyphus, you have to start all over again...

 

 

 

At some stage during a very busy Boxing Day shift, one of the supervisors, an endlessly cheery and bustling young man, asked me to tidy up the displays on "small leathers" - wallets, bags, belts, leather gifts like notebooks, boxes, tablet covers, etc.

 

This I did. He came over later and said wow, I didn't expect that, it's looks great, you've worked really well today, Curtise.

 

Hmmm. So what didn't he expect, exactly? That I was capable of tidying a display? That I could make reasonable judgments about how to organise products? That I could replace wallets and belts in boxes, and line them up on a shelf? That I would stick at it until it was done?

I wasn't expecting my reaction either; part ooh, you noticed, thank you! and part wtf? I've just been praised by someone young enough to be my son for performing a basic task which my kids could probably have done equally well.

 

Is it good practice for supervisors to praise and thank their staff? Of course. Did I feel ever-so-slightly patronised? Err, might have.

 

 

 The thing is, I am a bit of an intellectual snob. There, I said it. 

 

I am still approaching my own employment within the context of my previous career.  I used to be the manager, the supervisor, the one who directed and reviewed the work of my team, I was senior and responsible and experienced in my field. But my professional days are long gone, my career dead and buried, and I need to move on. I can't exist in a time warp where my expectation level is high, but my skill level and employability are low; something has to give, and I think it's my ego.

 

So having pondered what I could or should do next, I have applied for a job working as a stockroom assistant for a clearance outlet. It's local, and only a handful of hours, so no more long commutes and late finishes. It's minimum wage, and doesn't sound especially taxing, although once again, the recruitment process would have you believe it is a Very Serious Business. I've passed the online application stage, and am waiting to see whether I will be given an interview.

I'll let you know.

1970s Alexon wool/faux fur coat, dress and cardigan - charity shopped (my kind of retail)

Ankle boots - community fair

Scarf and bangle - gifts

Tapestry tote bag - made it myself

Beret - quiz prize

A final Debenhams incident on which to reflect.

 

One of the permanent members of staff commented to me that she had assumed I was a visiting rep when I arrived at the till point and asked for the department manager on my first day. Another colleague chimed in, and said she had imagined I was a manager from another store, come for a meeting. 

 

They were teasing me, I know, and laughing at the disconnect between how I speak and present myself, and the truth of my lowest-of-the-low status as Christmas temp with absolutely no retail experience. And it was funny, their assumptions being so very out of step with reality, and although they didn't know it, so very in step with my own feelings. One of the women added, So you must have something about you then...

That remains to be seen.

So. What do you think about work? Are you lucky enough to love what you do, or make a living out of what you love?

Is work a toad squatting on your life or to be embraced as a friend? A necessary evil, good fun, fulfilling or mind-numbing?

Does what you do fit with your concept of yourself?

 

xxxxx 

 

Back to life, back to reality

We slot back into our usual routine tomorrow; the kids return to school, my temporary job is over, and a more regular blogging schedule should resume. But we'll see.

Just as I went outside to take some photos, it started to rain and the wind got up, so I am looking decidedly dishevelled.

  

 There was clearly no point at all in brushing my hair...

1970s Leygil dress and boots - Ebay
Tie cardigan and necklace - charity shopped
Lurex fishnet tights - gift from Goan-mad Vix
Hair flower - retail (sale)



It was Littlest's 8th birthday on Friday. She's doing something with her friends in a couple of weeks' time, but we enjoyed a family meal out, and Eldest took charge of making her sister a birthday cake.

The cake may have been ever so slightly... err... dense in texture. Due to her using plain flour but omitting the baking powder. But we didn't mind.

My mum still tells the story of the first cake I ever made all on my own, probably at about the same age that Eldest is now. It too was flat as a pancake and of a somewhat biscuit-y consistency. My mum gave it away to a passing tramp, and claimed he was delighted to receive a flat cake and a refill of his thermos.

It was the 1970s - simpler times.

Anyway, we all ate the 2014 version of The First Cake and declared it just fine. 

Cheers, Nina - happy birthday, love!
 

Our New Year's Eve was brilliant.

I've got a face like a slapped arse, and only managed to snap a hasty photo in the mirror just before I headed out the door.

But oh we did have a fabulous time!
I wore a 1950s frock, heels, and feathers. Of course.
I chatted and ate and drank, I danced and sang and laughed, a lot.

What more could you ask for?

Non-blurry photos? Nah, never going to happen! This is my favourite pic of the night.

The kids were alright...

...and the adults had a ball, despite the photo of Ron with his head in his hands. I think he may have despaired at Claire's and my rendition of River Deep, Mountain High on the karaoke.

Fuzzy photos; fuzzy heads next day.
Just as it should be.


So - 2014, then.
What will it have up its sleeve?

 xxxxx

Lovley, buttiful

Christmas has come and gone, and I have had a small unscheduled break from blogging; no significant reasons, just Christmas and work and a cold and feeling a bit too busy for my liking.

Christmas itself was fairly relaxed, all food and presents eagerly and gratefully enjoyed.

A day in bed with paracetamol and a good book helped with the cold.

Work is nearly done (just one more shift to go). Remind me again why anyone wants to go shopping on Boxing Day? Plenty do, apparently, but it mystifies the bejeezus out of me...

And 2013 is nearly over - where did it go?

Favourite pressie?

Well, it doesn't really do to have favourites, but I was very taken with this 1960s Brettles nightdress and peignoir set from my friend Tracey. She know me so well!

Tonight we are going round to see the new year in with our friends Claire and Ron, and whoever else pitches up. If I make it to midnight awake, it'll be the year's first miracle..

However, we are taking the karaoke machine, so that might keep me going. Any requests?  (Who said Shaddup your face?)

1970s C&A maxi dress and bracelets- charity shop

1960s faux fur cape /jacket - gift

1970s hat - flea market

Boots - community fair

Here's Eldest, wearing her 1960s vinyl Baker boy cap, looking as though she should be a character in A Taste of Honey or Up the Junction.

Little sisters always ruin the shot...

...but he ain't heavy.

We were off to see The Hobbit at the Imax, it was great.

 Did everyone have a good Christmas? I hope so, and I'll be catching up with all your festive/end of year action very soon.

Hmm, wonder what 2014 has in store?

I daresay I will be buttiful, continue to bellow, and be a godess. 

It's hard to tell with Littlest's atrocious spelling whether she meant goddess or godless. Either works.

Edit: linking to Judith's Hat Attack, the first of 2014!

See you next year!

xxxxxx

Wonderful Life

I have somehow made it to 300 blog posts!

My lovely friend Shelley recently made it to 800, and noted that she still enjoys blogging and feels inspired to continue.

So do I, due in no small part to all of you, the friends who bother to read and comment and support and amuse and entertain and inform. I've spent a bit of time this year mourning the people who have disappeared from my blogging world, but I decided that to focus on those who are no longer around does a disservice to those who are. 

And I want to say a big thank you to all of you, you are brilliant!

Yes, I mean you, Patti, Lynne, Tania, Fiona and Shelley.

Vix

Helga

and Jan.

Thank you to Mel and Krista

Vanessa

Jean
 
 

Tamera

Amber

and Em.

Such lovely friends - and of course there are many more, and I would have loved to create photos for all of you. But alas, the kids needed feeding and the Christmas presents needed wrapping and there was work to go to...

Without you, I'd feel like this;

But with you, it's a wonderful life.

An inappropriately summery video, I know, but the sentiment is fitting.

xxxx
 

   

                                                                         

So Merry Christmas to all...

 

xxxxxxx