9 April 2012 (Easter Monday) - So Bored...

 

Having had plans for three of the days of  the long weekend, I'd not actually got round to thinking up something to do today. Last year on Easter Monday we took a picnic up to Caesar's camp, and then I met one of my grand-cats for the first time. The year before we had family over to visit on Easter Monday. And the three years before that were spent doing gardening. Interestingly it would seem that the weather on the last five Easter Mondays was (if not glorious) good enough to get out and about to do something.
Today we had nothing planned, and the weather was awful.

Over a spot of brekkie we turned on the telly. UK Gold were having a Wallace-and-Gromit-a-thon. And with precious little to do, I watched the antics of plasticine whilst fiddling about on my lap-top. As total boredom set in I got off my bum and scrubbed the bathroom ceiling before wasting much of the afternoon playing "Angry Birds" and "Words with Friends" whilst watching repeats of "Only Fools and Horses" on UK Gold. And when I could play no more games on Facebook I did some ironing. Being Bank Holiday there was no league bowling this evening, but "er indoors TM" had arranged to spend the evening with a bowling buddy so I was left "Home Alone".  I spent a couple of hours watching yet more repeats of "Only Fools and Horses" on UK Gold before turning over to "The Great St Trinian's Train Robbery". It wasn't as good as I remembered it. I then went back to what I'd done all day and watched an episode of "Rock and Chips" which I'd recorded onto the Sky Plus box a week or so ago. It turns out that  there are only three episodes of "Rock and Chips". Tonight I saw the third one. I've seen the first one a dozen times, and never seen the second one...

Having just had a really enjoyable three days I found today thoroughly depressing. With nothing planned, and heavy rain stopping anything being done outside, the day was pretty much a day wasted.

8 April 2012 (Sunday) - Smarden Duck Race

Just as I was about to go to bed last night, the first fruit of my loin came home; as refreshed as a rat. He took himself off to his pit, as he does. And I did likewise.
At 3.30am there was a frantic hammering on the front door. I opened the door to some very apologetic drunken lads - it turned out that the drunkard upstairs had (for some reason) been entrusted with everyone's keys and  had come home with them all.
With keys eventually sorted everyone went back to their respective pits. At 8am I was woken by a phone call. The Brighton contingent was wondering if the Duck Race was still on. Quite frankly so was I. But idiot enthusiasm usually trumps common sense and we decided to stick with the day's original plan. As I tried to doze off again, so several text messages came in; all asking about the Duck Race. As I had a spot of brekkie I desperately hoped the Duck Race was still on.

And so, with a sense of hope we picked up Steve and Sarah and set off to Smarden. The Brightonians had already arrived at the Farm, as had nearly everyone else, and after  a quick cuppa we made  our way into the village where another of our number was waiting. I'd been worried about today - a lot of people had cried off with other commitments: was anyone going to come? But in the end over a dozen of us queued up to buy our ducks. For a quid we got a numbered plastic duck. And then nine hundred of these numbered plastic ducks were chucked into the river a hundred yards upstream of the bridge. The first duck to the bridge would win the prize. We stood by the river's edge  and cheered for our ducks. I hollered and bellowed for duck #823, but duck #823 did not win. Which was a shame. Mind you,  winning isn't everything. Just being there for the duck race was  quite sufficient.
And so back to the farm. The plan was far a barbie, and despite the weather a barbie is what we had. There were a few spots of rain, but I've barbied in far worse over the years. And having eaten far too much and suitably replete we wandered across the fields to see the aminals and fishes. And then, having said goodbye to some of our number, an advance party for the planned June camp made its way to Dering farm to check out the lie of the land. With quite a major camp planned for a few weeks' time, we thought it a good idea to see where we would be camping. I'd not been down to the lower field at Dering farm for years - it has potential.
And all too soon it was time to come home: a shame - I'd had a great day with family and friends, and there are some friends I see far too infrequently. And from one group of friends I don't see enough of, we went round to see others we also don't see often enough. Today marked ten years since Heather and Andy got married. I was there for the wedding, and this evening saw a little soiree to celebrate. It was a really good evening with friends; and again all too soon it was time to come home.
There have been days in my life that I couldn't wait to be over; today could have lasted a lot longer....

7 April 2012 (Saturday) - A Barbie

I do like where I live, but one of the drawbacks with the location is that it is right in the middle of the route that the lower orders take when staggering home from the night clubs to the pikier parts of town. And when staggering home, the lower orders seem incapable of talking quietly to their associates. And so I was woken at 3.40am this morning by two charming gentlemen bellowing swear words at each other.
 I nodded off again, and had a minor lie-in. But not too much of a lie-in. The first fruit of my loin was due to be coming round at 9.30am. He arrived at 10am, and was worrying about my grand-dog. Fudge has been sick overnight for the last two nights. He would seem to have chirped up this morning, but one can't help but wonder what's up with the pup. I suspect the new wonder-dog-food he's being fed.

I then pretty much wasted the morning mucking about doing on-line surveys and playing "Angry Birds" before we popped up to town for a spot of shopping. I'd not really noticed it before, but the Park Mall shopping precinct isn't what it once was. I would say that over half the shops there are now closed down and empty. Surely it would make sense to the precinct’s owners to have shops open, if paying reduced rent, than to have the place deserted?
We went to Wilko's to get the makings of beer for the first of our summer camps. In better circumstances I would have gone to the Home Brew shop across town to support the local business. But in these austere times I am not going to spend twenty-two quid on that which I can buy for a tenner. Even if the Rear Admiral is going halves with me to share the costs. We then got some barby scoff from Lidl's and tried not to stare at the transvestite in Farm Foods.

And then took the barby stuff round to Steve and Sarah's where we barbied. Having barbied we watched the utter shambles that was this year's Oxford vs Cambridge boat race, and then the sci-fi movie "Paul". It was brill - I can't believe I'd not seen the film before. And just as the film finished the door bell rang, and we had a second round of barbie. A wonderful tea with wonderful friends. It was only a shame that the day was so overcast; yesterday had seen really good weather - today  was overcast and grotty. But we made the most of the evening. A really good evening - must do it again. Soon...

6 April 2012 (Friday) - Good Friday

Traditionally Good Friday has for some years been synonymous with Chambers Bar Beer Festival followed by a pub crawl round Folkestone. And while I cannot deny that I have enjoyed the beer festivals immensely, Good Friday has also been synonymous with a cost of over one hundred pounds, having no recollection of large parts of the evening, and feeling like death warmed up on the following Saturday. So in a novel break with tradition I decided to give the beer festival a miss this year. After all money doesn't save itself and weight doesn't lose itself.

So today rather than going drinking to excess, we had a day of healthy exercise. Four of us cycled to Singleton where we picked up a fifth member of the party, and the we got off our bikes and pushed up Singleton Hill. Back when I cycled more often I would have been able to have cycled up without stopping, but today was the first cycling outing for a year. Mind you, once at the top of Singleton Hill I certainly zoomed down the other side. We were soon at Shadoxhurst, and from there it was but a wiggle until we were at Orlestone woods.  Admittedly more of a wiggle than I was thinking it would be, but it was worth the effort.
At Orlestone woods we met up with those who'd come down in the car, and we broke out the picnic. It was a lovely place to sit with friends in the sunshine. And a picnic was a far better dinner when cycling. In the past we've cycled and had a pub lunch and then tried to cycle back when absolutely stuffed. A picnic was far more manageable.

And after an hour's sitting in the sunshine it was time to move on; tempting as it was to stay put. There's no denying that getting back on the bike was very tender on the barse, but we'd cycled there, so cycling back had to be done. It was a very pleasant cycle ride back through the woods - the weather forecast hadn't got it right at all. And we soon found ourselves cycling past the King's Head. The Rear Admiral fancied a crafty half, so we stopped for one. Or, to be precise, a half. There's no denying that I haven't been in pubs much lately. I couldn't believe the prices. Five halves came to £9.75. That's £3.90 per pint. Nearly four quid for a pint of beer. I don't think I can afford to go in a pub for a long time....

And back on the bikes (oh - that hurt!) and back to Steve & Sarah's for a well deserved cuppa. We sat in the sunshine and chatted for half an hour. It was tempting to stay longer, but we needed to push on, and soon were back home where we again sat in the sunshine chatting for a bit before waving goodbye to our fellow cyclists.
My mobile rang - it was the first fruit of my loin asking if we wanted to go round for tea. I am always keen if someone is going to feed me, so we set off. And we had a wonderful evening. I got totally thrashed at an "Alvin and the Chipmunks" card game; I got Fudged, it was brill, and a wonderful way to round off a wonderful day.
It's having days like today that make it worth bothering with the grotty ones in between them....

5 April 2012 (Thursday) - Keeping Busy

I woke at 5am this morning - less than an hour of laying around bored this morning. When not on a late start or a day off, my daily round is pretty much fixed - get up, ablute, hang the laundry round the radiators, twenty sit-ups, brekkie with Bob Ross, check my emails, and off to work. My morning scrape takes ten minutes, brekkie with Bob is half an hour, and checking emails is as long as it takes - the whole lot is done and dusted in far less than an hour. Which is why waking up at silly o'clock is such a pain - if I get up when I wake, there isn't enough to do to fill the time and I get bored.  Mind you, I get just as bored lying there waiting for time to pass. Perhaps next time the insomnia strikes I might get up and spend two hours playing "Angry Birds". Or maybe not. Maybe I could spend my time organising a fishing syndicate.....

There is an old axiom - "if you want a job done, give it to a busy person". I first heard this said of the chap who used to run my Boys Brigade Company. And over the years I've found it to be very true.  In theory if you have something that needs to be done, you should give it to someone who is less busy and has more time to devote to the task. But it's been my experience that it doesn't work that way. People with time on their hands seem to be content to fritter their lives away. Because that's the kind of guys (and gals) they are.

My counsellor mentioned yesterday that there is a reason why busy people are busy, and people with time to waste have time to waste. Apparently there are people who are happy to run themselves ragged to get something done, even when they are completely over-committed. And I (and she) think I am one of them. For example when camping there are those who will do the washing up once and loudly declare that they have done it. Me - I will build the campsite, wash up every meal and strike the campsite single handed and think nothing of it. There are few clubs and societies I have joined without ending up on the committee (I'm getting better at that one!). I am always early at an appointment. I was a scout leader for thirteen years.
Even today I was considering starting a university degree at a local college.
The counsellor lady seemed to think that this is a character flaw on my part that could be improved by counselling, and that I should try not to be one of life's do-ers. I should make a point relaxing and taking life easy. I've tried that in the past. I get bored.

Something which might ease the boredom is running a fishing syndicate. Regular readers of this drivel may recall that over the last two years I've been part of a syndicate that has secured fishing rights to a local small pond. It's not the best place in the world to fish, bit it certainly isn't the worst. It turns out that the chap who has organised the syndicate is looking to step down, and apparently "Yours Truly" is seen as the obvious person to take on the job.
Do I want to take it on? What would be involved? Collecting twenty quid from twenty (or so) people and taking the cash to the pond owner. Hardly an arduous job, but do I want to take it on? Well, the answer to that is a resounding "NO!!!". Quite frankly I don't want to do it. But if I don't do it, is there anybody else willing to take it on? Perhaps we (I) should get all members of the syndicate together and see if we can't get someone to run the show. However I have been told that if I don't take over running the show, no-one will. Perhaps I might give it a go for one year and see what happens...

4 April 2012 (Wednesday) - Busy

I slept (reasonably) well last night, but woke with a right cob-on, and stomped about sulking. I must apologize to the most recent fruit of my loin who was visiting - I wasn't much company this morning. I had some brekkie, and then went delivering catalogues. This time to the other side of town. I realise that the petrol costs will eat into any profit margin, but with three separate distributors competing for the area within walking distance of my house, we needed to find somewhere where they don't get catalogues through the door regularly. And thanks to my loyal readership we might have found somewhere.
catalogue delivering took half an hour, and then I set off to Church Road. I found a framing shop, and got chatting with the owner there. He reckons he can put a decent frame round some of my smaller paintings for less than twenty quid. I shall direct my future customers in his direction when they require framing services. In return he says he will try to flog some of my output. When I'm next in the area I shall pop in with a painting or two.

And then I had my second counselling session. The plan is to help me come to terms with my now reduced circumstances. I thought I was coming to terms with them. But there's no denying that since I started this counselling I really feel I am noticeably more depressed. I get the distinct impression that the counsellor is trying to make me blub. She said I appeared to be very down when I arrived for this morning's session, and she said I should explore avenues of "emptying my pot of sorrow". At the end of the session she felt that she had spoken too much, and I had not spoken enough. She advised me to reconsider my reticence to take anti-depressants. Apparently because I would bandage a sprain and take antibiotics for an infection, I should think nothing of going onto anti-depressants for six months (!)
It probably doesn't help that I have identified what's wrong with my life (no cash) and am seriously trying to remedy the situation (job hunting & part-time money-spinnng): having sussed this out has left counselling somewhat redundant. Mind you, the counsellor lady did suggest that maybe I was being to restrictive in my job hunting; and suggested I might broaden my horizons somewhat. Perhaps she's got a point.

And so home. I watched the film "Bonded by Blood"; a watch-able tale about football thugs and drug dealers kicking seven shades of poo out of each other. And then I went back on to the job hunting front. I've updated my C.V. and put a version of it on this blog. I'd be grateful for any comments or suggestions on the thing - click on the link at the top of the page to view it. I know the formatting is squafty; it's the content I need help to improve. I then spent an hour updating all my profiles with various employment agencies, and had a couple of phone calls from the same agencies about possible future jobs. Something might come of these - hope springs eternal.
I then updated the Facebook page for Friday's cycle ride; if any of my loyal readers fancy a day out on Friday, do let me know. And I updated my Google calendar. The calendar accessible from the link above connects to my Google calendar and works fine. However I can't get it to link to the one on mankybadger.com - I wish I knew why. And talking of I.T. mysteries, my laptop is having a funny five minutes (or so). The copying and pasting facility seems to have gone west in that it only copies unformatted text. It loses the hyperlinks and italics and superscripts I put in when creating blog entries,which means that having put them in when typing in Open Office I then have to repeat the formatting in the Blogger software. Which is a nuisance...

3 April 2012 (Tuesday) - Dull

The first fruit of my loin went for a tiddle at 3am. He went quietly (I am reliably informed). I didn't get back to sleep after that: I lay awake fretting about how tired I would be later. And so I was. When I have the opportunity to sleep (i.e. when I'm in my pit) I am wide awake. When I should be raring to go, I want to curl up. Such is life.
Over a spot of brekkie I watched Bob Ross and The Joy of Painting. Bob was featuring a guest artist today - he wasn't anywhere near as good as Bob. Or perhaps he was and I was sulking as there was nowhere near enough milk for my bran flakes. I need quite a bit of milk on bran flakes - that's  the kind of guy I am.

And so to work - my daily round was much the same as everyone else's (I suppose), apart from a seagull which spent the day attacking his reflection in the window. For the first few minutes it was rather amusing, but the novelty soon wore off and the noise got right on my pip. Fortunately for my sanity the seagull lost interest shortly before 7pm, so I had one hour without the sounds of seagull declaring blood vengeance on itself.

I've had (yet) another look at my C.V.; I think I might have been going wrong in using the traditional format. People see what I've done, think it is too highly specialised, and ignore the fact I have loads of transferable skills (to coin a phrase!). So I've written a first draft of a "functional C.V." I shall work on it some more and post it here for the sage wisdom of my august readership. Or for the punters to have a laugh at; depending on your personal perspective...