New colleagues

I’m asking directions. This is happening a lot at present as I start to find my way around the city (even though I have, of course, bought a map).

‘I think it’s near the theatre. Hull Truck I mean, not the New Theatre. I’ve not been there yet, I’ll have to see what’s on’

New colleague ‘I’ve never been there…well, to either of them actually.’

Me: (shocked voice) ‘what, never?’

NC ‘No’

‘We’ll have to change that, (by way of explanation), I'm a bit of a theatre buff*'.

I may have moved across the country, but I guess not much changes in how much I have in common with those I work with.

*I know, understatement of the decade. At least I didn’t go for ‘snob’ from the start, they can work that one out as we go along.

A fresh start

You could say I’ve been a bit busy lately, what with finishing one job, going on holiday, and starting a new one the day after I got back*, without even thinking about adding in selling a house**, so I’ve not really been around on here, and have so much to catch up with.

For now, well, I no longer work in Liverpool, and have moved to Hull***. I think there may be a lot of similarities between the two. But hopefully the new job will have good things without the low points of the last. It’s no secret that it had become very difficult over the last few months of last year, and that I couldn’t see that it was ever going to change. So, I’ve moved on.

The holiday was a Nile cruise, which was fabulous, but exhausting. If anyone is planning on going on one, my advice would be to also plan about 4 days ‘down time’ at the end, just crashing out. Today is the first day that I’ve felt anything like normal. It was fabulous though.

*remind me never to think that’s a good idea again
**not mine
***when I say ‘moved’, I don’t mean literally. I’m not leaving York

It makes the theatre snob in me quite proud

I heard from my lovely ex-boss last week. This is the boss who had only ever seen two theatre productions in his life. As a life-long Hull City fan, Confessions of a City Supporter, and then a few years later on a trip to London, We Will Rock You (yes, I did mock). When I used to rave about the magic of live theatre, he always told me that theatre wasn’t for him, as it was ‘posh’.

In an email about work, he also told me that he had started going to the theatre, and sounded quite excited about it. He had recently see Blood Brothers, Billy Elliot and even Jerusalem (ahead of me there). He went on to say that he had also booked for Phantom of the Opera, Thriller (I will allow him an ‘off’ day) and The 39 Steps.

It was lovely to read his final comments: ‘Have really enjoyed all of them and I can absolutely now see why you love the Theatre so much’.

Awww!

A Big Frock

We’ve all done those ‘icebreaker’ games at training courses, right? The sort of things which make some people cringe with embarrassment. We’ve been having a couple of ‘awaydays’ from work recently, so it was decided that we needed one of these at the start of each day to warm things up, and to get to know a bit more about each other.

This week, we were all asked to draw something which represented our personality, and then we would all look at the drawings and try and decide who each one belonged to.

I tried to decide what to draw. A theatre would be too obvious. I settled on a big sparkly frock.

Setting aside that artistic ability doesn’t seem to be one of our strong points, it was quite interesting to see what people had drawn. Many had drawn stick people representing partners and family, whilst others had focussed on interests, music, golf, bird watching. Some people were very obvious, others more difficult to guess.

One drawing was of what I took to be a pig’s head*, (though others took it to be a cat), and a skull and cross bones.

‘I think that’s Val’
‘I think it’s Val too, she’s just playing it cool’
‘Why? Do you think I’m into piracy?’**
‘It’s your Gothic side coming out’

Then the frock drawing was displayed

‘No, I think that’s Val’
‘Yes, I do, it’s the drama’
‘What is it?’

I acknowledge ownership. ‘It’s a big frock’. Some of them look a little puzzled. ‘I believe life is better in a big sparkly frock’

‘I bet you like Gone With The Wind too, don’t you?’

*Turns out it was a teddy bear
**Yes, I know we once planned to sail a boat to Falkirk, and I have dressed as a pirate, but they don’t know that

Where I may become even more anti-social

I’ve been pondering getting an iPhone. My poor old mobile is distinctly worse for wear, and has had a cracked screen since I dropped it on the car, so I’ve been waiting until I qualified for an upgrade.

I called into the shop last week to see what my options were. It seems I’m eligible from the end of this month.

‘What do you recommend?’
‘Get an iPhone’

Last weekend, I was looking at all the Apps* on Cat’s. For a map geek like me, it was fabulous (yes, I know there are lots of other Apps, but it was the ones that could direct you to places, and recommend a nearby restaurant** which fascinated me). I want one, even though it may mean I spend even more time not talking to people.

So when I saw someone’s iPhone on the table at work, I asked what she thought of it. She looked at me, and it was almost like I could read her mind. What could someone like me (in her eyes, a total non-techy) want with an iPhone?

‘Yeah, it’s good, but you’d probably find it complicated’
(pause)
‘Mind, I do have a lot of Applications, and things like Facebook on mine, which you wouldn’t want’

I smiled. ‘Oh, you’d be surprised’

They really don’t know me. And that suits me just fine.

*See, iPhone jargon
** if you ever need an Indian Restaurant in Grantham, we can recommend one. Not that we visited, we were on the train at the time.

On eating out

Owing to needing to regularly stay over for work, I get to eat out a lot in Liverpool, probably more than I do in York. Hope Street has become a bit of a favourite. It’s got a cathedral at each end, a theatre*, a concert hall, a rather swish hotel, numerous restaurants and a rather elaborate pub. It’s also very close to the University, so is full of student and arty types. I guess you could say I feel at home there.

We’re trying all the various restaurants as we go along, and particular new favourite is HoSt, which does ‘fusion’ food. We had a fabulous meal there the other week, and it has to be admitted, the staff are both very attentive, and very cute, which is an added bonus.

I tend to sign up for emails at the various restaurants, so that I receive their special offers. As we usually eat out mid-week, there are often some good deals available.

So when I received an offer from HoSt, we agreed that we must go again, and started to discuss the food, waxing lyrical about the food, and specifically the corn fritters with chilli caramel (honestly, they’re divine!).

C reflects, ‘I must try and work out how to make them, it can’t be that difficult’

I smile. ‘That’s one of the differences between us. You think about making things you’ve eaten in a restaurant at home. I just think ‘when can I go again?’

*A theatre which we keep saying we must go to, only it continuously seems to be performing Pinter!

Where I discover once again that I don't have a lot in common with the people I work with

I did a lot of interviewing last week. 3 days of it. Some candidates didn’t turn up, and didn’t have the courtesy to let us know they weren’t coming, so there was some hanging around waiting, and making conversation with colleagues. The thing about work is that usually we’re so busy, we don’t actually talk to each other, not about anything other than work that is.

At one point, I find myself chatting to our medical director, who tells me that he was in Stratford last week, and went to the theatre. At least he knows enough about me to know I like theatre.

‘Oh, what did you see?’
‘As You Like It.’
‘What did you think?’

‘I really liked the theatre. As for the play, well, I have seen it before, many years ago, but I did find it hard going, trying to work out what they were saying.
We left at the interval’

I can’t actually say anything, as I’m gaping rather.

‘Well, I look at it this way. I’d enjoyed it up to that point, and felt that I’d seen enough. If I’d have stayed, I wouldn’t have enjoyed it so much. And, after all, I have seen it before.’

‘I have my shocked face on, don’t I?’

Phew!

There was a point towards the end of July when I was looking at my diary for August and trying to plan something in. The first ‘free’ day I could spot, when I wasn’t already committed to something, or likely to be doing something, was today.

Somehow August has gone by in a blur of sun (well, in Paris, anyway), rain (Edinburgh!), theatre, holiday, days out, rehearsals, oh, and quite a bit of work as well. It's been fun. Exhausting at times, but fun (well, maybe not the work part, as that's been pretty tough, but all the more reason to do the good stuff). September seems to be shaping up to be more of the same, as I’m still really busy at work, and alongside that have even more rehearsals*, and theatre trips, to fit in.

At least I haven't had time to be bored. Or to do any house work! So one of my priorities this weekend is to have a bit of a catch up, a bit of a tidy, and maybe go for a walk. Best thing to do on bank holidays, I think, and this last summer bank holiday always seems a bit crazy, as everyone dashes out to catch the last of the summer before the schools go back.

*For we are performing this on 26 September and 17 October. Somewhere in the next few weeks I have to actually learn the lines

Crazy days

I’ve been a bit busy lately! So I’ve not really had time to update on the rest of my visit to London, or seeing the lovely John Barrowman in concert, or my subsequent two trips to London, or my walking, or any thing else. There will be updates on some, but not all of these in due course, but sometimes it seems the moment to write has passed.

Basically, it’s all been a bit crazy, and isn’t shaping up to be any less hectic over the next few weeks, as I have a couple of major pieces of work coming up before I go on holiday. So, this weekend, I’m taking a moment to breathe.

Happy Birthday, M&S

‘J suggests we leave at 5, and go to M&S on the way home’

The note is stuck under my nose as I sit, head down, at the computer, a position I’ve been in almost all day, apart from when I’ve lifted it to curse and swear at the screen (and at my lack of formatting skills). It’s looking like a good idea to me.

Earlier, we’d been talking about the ‘Penny Bazaar’, in celebration of 125 years of M&S, and wondering what they had. Despite the feedback being ‘not much’, we decide to stop off at Warrington on the way home.

My first impression is that it’s huge, much bigger than York. My second impression is that the ‘Penny Bazaar’ is long gone, but we’re soon exclaiming over the range of vintage inspired clothes, and food. I pick up a box of fruit jelly sweets, marked 'originally' 1 shilling. They’re now £2.99, so I guess that’s inflation for you.

Despite having no money, I find I’m buying a dress* and a pair of summer wedges. I doubt if I'll keep the dress, but when I try it on later, I like it. The shoes are, however, having to go back, as the straps are too tight over my fat ankles.

This morning I decide to go over to the Monks Cross shopping park to take them back, not realising that the shops don’t open till 9.30. At 9, there’s already a queue outside M&S for the 'Penny Bazaar'. While I’m waiting, I pop into Starbucks for a coffee, and join the queue about 20 past, as I might as well see what they have.

I’m handed a leaflet, showing the range of items. There are 20 to choose from, and each customer can have up to 5. I go for a silk scarf, a diamante necklace, and more mundanely, a mug, a tea towel and a pair of socks. Not bad for 5p. I return the wedges, but I get another pair of 1960’s inspired shoes in place of them, so it’s turned into a fairly expensive couple of days.

*one of the vintage ones, which, sad to say, reminds me of a dress I had about 30 years ago. It’s

supposedly inspired by the 1940’s, but then so was my other one.

So long, farewell...

I finished one of my jobs this week. It was January when I told my boss that I wanted to leave, as the travelling was too much for me. I finally left at the beginning of December. I guess you can’t ever say I didn’t give enough notice. So, in this time of the ‘credit crunch’ (how I hate that phrase), I’ve voluntarily halved my income, which is a bit scary!

I can’t believe its 21 months since I went down to Hertfordshire to do a ‘short term’ project with a couple of small organisations. These small organisations are now one large organisation, and employ over 200 people. It’s easy to forget how far we’ve come.

In that time, I’ve got lost in St Albans, spotted the site of an inn which has an obscure Shakespearean reference, stayed in more hotels** than I’d ever wanted to, and realised that there really is a north/south divide.

For once, I actually had a ‘leaving do’*, and people said some awfully nice things. I’m not sure I recognised myself in what they were saying, however.

Even though it was only ever mean to be short term, I’m going to miss them. My boss did write on my leaving card ‘don’t think you’ve got away from me yet!’ though.

*when other jobs have ended through redundancy, no one really feels much like a party!

** For the record, I recommend Beales Hotel in Hatfield, and Tewin Bury Farm, Welwyn.

Technology

‘You never really escape, do you?’

I was at a seminar today. After we’d broken for lunch, and were sitting eating, I looked around and everyone was checking their mobile phones.

These days, you’re accessible wherever you are, and people don’t now just ring the office for messages in a break. Oh, no. Now, we can all read our emails on our phones (or Blackberrys, or whatever we happen to have), and reply to them.

So now, no one chats any more, we’re all too busy working.

I’m just glad that no one could see that what I was actually checking was Facebook!

'We're quite intrepid really'

It’s a running joke between us that when we’re in Liverpool, we like a bit of an ‘adventure’. Given that neither of us are known for roughing it, these adventures consist of trying new places to stay, and trying new restaurants!

This week, it being the night of the ‘footie’ and all, we couldn’t get into our usual places, so I’d been browsing on line and discovered these apartments.

We only got lost twice on the way there, despite having both printed directions and a map (I blame a particularly odd junction)!

Arriving we’re welcomed by John, who’s looking after the place. After showing us our room, we ask him whether there’s anywhere nearby to eat.

He looked us up and down. ‘Well, now, ladies like yourselves, I don’t think there’s anywhere near here you’d want to go’. He suggests an area which we’ve been to before, at the end of Penny Lane (yes, The Penny Lane).

We have the most delicious meal, and head back. The next morning, we need breakfast, and for once it isn’t provided. We’d passed a Tesco on our journey last night, so we decide call in there, to pick up supplies.

‘We’re very intrepid, aren’t we? We could be survivors’, C comments.

‘Oh, yes, drop us in Liverpool, with a few wine bars, and a Tesco at hand, and we can survive!’

Sunday night in

I usually go to the pub quiz on a Sunday evening. It serves the dual purpose of a chance to win money (and wine) with the opportunity to put off thinking about Monday for as long as possible.

Last week however, the jackpot (£170!) was won, and not by us. Somehow I think we believed that it was just a matter of time before we won it, and it was waiting for us to add it to our ‘pot’. Sadly, someone else got it, so I wasn’t that disappointed that I had to miss the quiz to drive south for work.

So, instead of drinking pinot grigio in the pub, I found myself in a rather nice hotel in Hatfield*, arriving in plenty of time for the Strictly results show**. Checking in, I decided I needed wine and snacks with my viewing. What did I see? The room service menu!

So, there I was – chips, wine, and a cafetiere of coffee, Strictly on the fancy tv. And then, to follow…Dirty Dancing. There are worse ways to spend Sunday evening when you’re away from home.

*nice hotels are seriously cheap on a Sunday night, I've paid more for the Travelodge next door.
**Yes, I was recording it, but there's always the chance someone will blab!

The Stratford Effect

All the journey down, I was fine, in a haze of Shakespeare, and Stratford and sunshine. I managed to avoid being grumpy* for most of the afternoon, despite the overwhelming amount of work in front of me, and the constant bombardment of questions. Even yesterday evening, as I finally left work just after 9, I could still feel it hanging around me. The 'Stratford Effect' had restored my sanity for one day in my crazy work schedule, for I could imagine I was back there, in the theatre, in the Pimm’s Garden, or just looking at the river.

But, today, it had gone. I was irritable, and stressed, and babbling. For I’m still working at a distance, despite having had the conversation with my boss nearly six months ago that it needed to end. I think in my heart of hearts, I knew I would still be there, for to walk away just now would be letting people down, and I can’t do it.

So instead I lurch from crisis to crisis, but trying to please everyone, and pleasing no one, least of all myself. I could work 5 days a week there, and it still wouldn’t be done.

So, I need the ‘Stratford Effect’** more than ever, if I’m going to get to the end of September. I also need to have another conversation with my boss!

*believe me, when I am, even I don’t like me!

** The Stratford Effect isn’t just Stratford, it’s any theatre/art/cultural activity.

An explanation

‘What’s a superlambanana?’

The question has cropped up twice in the last couple of days.

It’s quite difficult to explain, if you haven’t seen the Superlambanana*. Try describing it, and you can practically see the minds boggling.

The original is supposedly both a comment on Liverpool’s trading history, and also on GM foods. It’s a piece of modern art that I like the whimsy of, so I was interested to see on Breakfast News the other week that there are now a whole flock of baby lambananas all across the city of Liverpool.

Like the Grand Tour in York, there’s a trail you can follow. So it was that as I turned left in front of St George’s Hall last night, I squealed a little when I saw two of them opposite the Empire Theatre.

*He even has his own website, how fab is that?

If only things were this easy

I pride myself at being rather good at geography*. But when it comes to the Home Counties, I’m a bit at sea. To me ‘Hertfordshire’ has always been more ‘Pride and Prejudice’ than a real place, so when it comes at looking at the map, it’s still a bit of a mystery.

In the middle of a meeting, I find myself pointing at the map on the wall (and potentially offending all the indigenous population in the room) in an accusing manner.

‘Where’s Rickmansworth?’ It’s pointed out to me, sitting firmly on, what seems to me, to be the wrong side of the M25.

‘Well, it’s in the wrong place!’

‘I’m sure they’ll move it, Val, just for you.’

*I like to read maps, anyway

As this tale is about DIY dentistry, it is not for the fainthearted

If you’re squeamish, look away now.

It happened because I needed a sugar fix at work on Wednesday morning. I bought a bag of wine gums. Second sweet into the bag, it felt extra crunchy! Don’t you just hate that feeling.

I knew what had happened, but initially thought it was a filling that had come out – oh no, it was the whole crown, leaving a nail sticking up. I was in a bit of a state, to say the least.

I rang my dentist, who could have fitted me in, but I was in Liverpool, and wasn’t going to be in York till Friday. My colleagues told me to try and get an appointment with the emergency dental service, so I rang NHSDirect. The dental nurse told me I wasn’t an emergency as I wasn’t in pain (never mind the fact that I could hardly talk and would have found it very difficult to eat), and advised me to get a DIY kit ‘from any chemist’.

I was a bit gobsmacked by this. I know the state of NHS dentistry is bad, but I didn’t know they were now advising you to do it yourself!

Anyhow, the kit was purchased, and I looked rather dubiously at the contents, A few cotton buds, some even more dubious liquid (‘is that glue?’), and some putty/cement. I read the instructions – it all sounded quite scary.

Eventually I plucked up the courage to have a go. As we don’t have a decent mirror in the place, or a staff room or restroom, I ended up with a mirror propped up on some boxes in a storeroom. It was hardly conducive to effective dental treatment. I soon discovered that it is incredibly difficult to ‘DIY’ – very fiddly, and you can’t see what you are doing. Eventually more by luck than judgement, I got it back in, held in with the putty.

I went to my dentist yesterday morning. I seemed to have done such a good job she had difficulty getting it out again. But I just know that in the long run this is going to be very expensive.

Bad days

In the early new year I had a conversation with my boss about my workload, and, perhaps more importantly, the travelling that I do, for it’s actually that which gets me down. He was very sympathetic and responsive, but the trouble is, so far, not much has changed.

I work hard, but for me work is what provides the resources to do the things I really love, e.g. theatre. The workload is huge in both places that I work at the moment, and the timescale for delivering on the current agenda is the same in both places. It all came to a bit of a head two weeks ago, when I felt I was sinking fast. I think that was the darkest hour, as I couldn’t see a way through it. I did commission some help with some of the work, but there is still the stuff that I need to do. It isn’t going to go away, and I can’t see how I can meet the deadlines.

My rational head, which has surfaced for a brief moment today, knows that I will come through this, just as I did through the last workload crisis. My irrational head is looking at the week ahead and just wishing it was already over.

The North/South Divide

It’s well known that my boss is a bit of a cultural philistine, but I’m not sure I like being tarred with the same brush!

We’re ‘down south’, chatting before a meeting, and M is telling me of her son’s audition at RADA. I ask about his audition speeches. Apparently he’s doing something from Romeo and Juliet, ‘and something from a play called ‘Bouncers’ – have you heard of it? I laugh, and comment that of course I know it, it’s Godber, it’s Hull. She’s clearly never heard of this ‘northern’ play.

My boss chips in that he once saw ‘Confessions of a Hull City Supporter’ and that he was brought up not to do theatre, or opera, or golf, as they’re posh. M comments that ‘you find that people are like that, in that they only like to do certain things’. It’s pitched in the nicest possible (but slightly condescending) terms but the inference clearly is that ‘it’s grim up north’, and we’re all still kicking the coal dust off our boots.

I mutter a comment that ‘we’re not all like that!’ and put my head down. Inwardly, I’m seething a little, as I don’t like being seen as a cultural stereotype!