Hurried and harassed

Christmas. 85 days away, apparently, and it has managed to be one of the biggest conversations/debates in the office for the past few days. Other conversations in the past week have ranged from the debate of whether Creamy Chicken John is, in fact, Bible John, old television adverts, who the woman with the stockings was, whether Andrea will get hit by a bus as she crosses Cadzow Road, the vast amount of people Craig believes are w**kers and what age Lorna is.
It was her birthday today and she brought us all in a treat to celebrate. A rather tasty dumpling, and today it tasted even better, simply because it was Friday.
I’d been feeling a bit down in the dumps of late but today, even though I only managed a mere four hours sleep last night, I strode up to work feeling a little better. Maybe it was just something to do with the fact that as of this afternoon, I have a week off. Time to relax, chill out, look after Ka and perhaps even get some more painting done.
The bright sun shining down over Scotland probably helped cheer me up too.
The Indian summer has started, the news is saying. If Scotland sees much more than one day, I’m Santa Claus.
After the past few stormy weeks of wind and rain going out at lunchtime was like walking out into a foreign country. The Hamilton shops surrounding the office were busy with summer shoppers as Lorna and myself took a stroll up to the local Marks and Spencers to take advantage of their latest Meal Deal for the weekend. The Marks and Spencers Dine in for Two Meal Deal is always popular and pretty good value for a tenner. The main problem is usually getting your hands on any of it. You get a main, a side dish, a dessert and a bottle of wine, but, unfortunately, not always of your choice.
Fortunately Lorna and myself had headed up the street just a little earlier than noon, hoping to beat the lunchtime crowds, so we had a good selection of meals to choose from. It was getting to them that was the problem.
We walked in and before we could wonder where we were headed, we seen the small crowds, straight ahead, gathered at the busy shelves at the end of the middle three aisles.
Little old ladies everywhere. The majority of the crowds were anyway, the rest were rather pi**ed off looking older men, probably waiting on their wives making a decision.
Patiently, I waited on a space to open and then took my chance to weave myself into the crowd.
As I stood deliberating on what to buy for dinner, I spoke to Ka on the phone, asking if she'd prefer haddock or beef roulades. Just as I was reaching for the beef roulades, to try and work out what their green filling was, the corner of a metal hand basket was jammed into my side. Looking down towards the pain, I yelped as a grim looking old woman looked up at me aggressively from my side whilst I recovered from the sharp, sudden pain in the side of my ribs and the abrupt interruption to my conversation with Ka. Two other women were closing in to my left, elbowing my subtly and a large bloke reared up behind, reaching over my shoulder to get to one of the roulades.
I'm not sure I like being surrounded by aggressive old women and I'm definitely not sure I like large blokes rearing up from behind, especially when they're apparently in urgent need of a bit of beef.
Sensing a disturbance in the call, Ka asked me what was up to which I told her.
“I’m surrounded by housewives and mad old women!” I said, perhaps a little too loudly, into my mobile. Shocked utterances and angry comments were made around me, which spurred me on into making a hurried, and rather harassed decision. I grabbed the haddock and ran for the tills, (run for your lives!), swiping a bottle of white plonk from the Meal Deal shelf as I ran.
Never before has Marks and Spencers felt so threatening. I'd obviously caused a little upset by standing before the Meal Deal shelves, undecided on what to purchase whereas they're all allowed to meander around the shops in their slippers, with their sticks and electric wheelchairs, for as long as they like.
After getting out of Marks in, just about, one piece, my gold tie looking a little bedraggled, I popped into the Hamilton Shopping Arcade's O2 shop to ask about the strange symbols that have started appearing on my phone.
Last week I'd visited the shop to get a new Sim card as my phone had taken a liking to switching itself off and complaining about an “INACTIVE SIM”.
The guy that sat me down at his desk last week to take my phone apart, scoffed at my sim card as he plucked it from the back of my mobile. He shook his head his head and looking at me disdainfully explained I had a mere 2G Sim, which were fazed out months ago, and I should have a 3G. Shrugging, I asked him to sort it out for me and since my new 3G sim card has become active it has successfully tripled all the contacts in my address book and been flashing strange new logos at me on the phone's screen.
The same guy was there today but too busy laughing scornfully at some other ignorant mobile user at the time. Another tall, rather gloomy looking fellow strode up and asked if he could help. This rather depressing looking O2 sales character took the phone off me and looked down at it's screen. As I started explaining about the phone and how, up until last Friday, I'd had a 2G Sim card, the O2 man's eyes started welling up. He quickly rubbed his eyes, trying to act natural as he flicked pages on my phone with shaky hands. My explanation faltering a little, I continued, unsure where to look, before real tears started gathering in his eyes. Quietly, and under my breath, I asked if there was a problem. The guy seemed genuinely upset. The other guy had found it hilarious to the levels of smugness but this guy was obviously the opposite and felt nothing but pity for me. Surely having a 2G Sim card wasn't that distressing.
The guy eventually murmured something about hayfever through his tears as he continued to shake his head and rub his eyes over my phone, making me wonder how my mobile and I could have possibly caused such an outbreak of the allergic reaction. As I considered the dusty old ladies in Marks and Spencers as probable cause, the crying O2 man murmured the phone symbols away as temporary problems to do with internet connections. Hurrying the phone from his hands I quickly said my thanks and left the store before I caused the guy any more upset.
Thankfully, I didn’t upset anyone else for the rest of the day, with the exception of Linda, in Advertising, who wanted a visual done half an hour before the end of my shift.
She had no chance.
I was going home for my haddock.
Which was delicious.
Well worth upsetting the old ladies for.

Weddings, weans and waiting

Well, once again in the streets of Britain, people are panicking. Driving at 3mph, schools closing, trains cancelling, people leaving the supermarkets with supplies to stock in their garages, weather reports going on for too long. In the office people drift up to the windows every ten minutes to mumble about the scenes outside and folk squawk and complain about how long it took them to drive to work, their colleagues all more than aware the person is half an hour late just by looking at the clock. Yes, it is snowing again and people are losing all sense of reason once more.
Ka and myself woke up on Saturday morning to an unnaturally white light beaming in through the bedroom curtains and before I'd had the chance to fall to my knees and scream for pity at the visiting alien lifeforms, Ka had swept the curtains aside to reveal the snow that had fallen overnight.
"Fantastic", I said clambering up to the window. "Better get the Jack Daniels poured!".
I was not celebrating the arrival of snow though, I was filling the hip flask I was taking along to Wendy and Rob's Wedding on Saturday afternoon at the Bothwell Bridge Hotel. Whilst Ka dried her pants with a hair dryer and I sneaked Belgian Chocolate Cake from the bread bin (we've got a spectacular bread bin!), I filled up the hip flask expecting the worst of the hotel's bar pricing. Another Wedding. Like the Number 20 buses that all come along at once. We had Gillian and Craigs' four weeks ago and now another, but more family affair, this time around.
Wendy is one of the three daughters of Lorna, an adopted 'Auntie' to the McGarvas, and thusly a cousin whom Ka grew up and sang with each other into stereos with. Wendy, Pamela and Susan, who are all lovely girls and, until recently, I constantly got mixed up with, accidentally calling each by their various sisters' names at various times and places. Fortunately I'm over all that now and can successfully recognise each (something which, I'm disappointed to say, I've never been commended for). Even after the Jack Daniels, and with two of each wearing the same dress, I was successfully able to nod to and greet in full confidence without making a fool of myself. Something which I can do in many other imaginative and wonderful ways.
Doing the Time Warp, for instance. The third weekend in the space of a month that I've sang and danced to the Time Warp in public (not that I ever dance it in private, I should point out...).
Anyway, Wendy was beautiful in her elegant white dress and Ellis, her son, the star of the show, with a great speech with which he gave his mother away (but stipulated that he wanted her back).
The next day, it was back through the snow to Bothwell once more and to Joshua's first birthday party at which our wee nephew got his hands on more cake, a new course to his slowly expanding dietary menu. A cake so full of sugary goodness that even Willy Wonka would need to go into rehab after eating a slice.
Cake or no cake, Joshua is growing up fast. He zooms around Angela and Steven's floorboards now at a rapid rate and loves investigating all floor based items such as wires and radiator pipes. A reason why we bought him a wee car to pull along the floor. Not only does it have string but it has wheels, music and shaped blocks to slot into it's boot (sounds almost like my old Clio). Joshua seemed to like it anyway and after a quick trip abroad with Morgan, a snowball fight in the front garden and a tasty M&S buffet created by Steven, Joshua waved us goodbye. He's getting much better at the waving goodbyes for some reason. Some people would maybe even be fooled into believing he 's happy to see the back of us.
Something I'll be glad to see the back of are the dreaded work interviews. My various work colleagues, of all shapes and sizes, and I, have all to apply for the 12 positions going in the newly streamlined S&UN which will be formed in March of next year. So we've got the horrible job of competing against one another for a job, whilst doing our jobs. The first is tomorrow. Thankfully, I've got some of that Jack Daniels left.