Sink or Swim

So the plan is to go part-time in my current job, in order to devote two days out of my working week to freelance work.

I shall be office-bound on Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays, leaving Tuesdays and Friday for serious constructive progress on building up my freelancing portfolio.

That's Tuesdays and Fridays.
Fridays.
Yes.

And then this arrives...

Hello all,

Every Thursday, starting 8th February, my lovely little local wine shop will be starting a wine evening at my lovely little local cafe. 

You’ll be able to select from over 30 wines by glass or bottle, starting at £3.00 a glass, and there will be bespoke platters supplied by the fusion deli at £2.95 per person (based on four people sharing). 

7pm till 11pm starting Thursday the 8th of Feb and every Thursday afterwards. 

The evening will be called 'wine redefined': we're going to redefine what it means to serve wine (we will use only the best crystal glassware and decanters); what it means to drink wine (only small esoteric quality growers), and what it means to enjoy wine (informal advice and a friendly atmosphere).

For the opening night you can book a table, or come down a little later. We assure excellent table service, low key tunes, and great wine all culminating in a relaxing friendly environment.

Hope to see you there!

Rupert

 
Oh feck.

So, Manchester wins the new supercasino bid.

Darn it.

Knew I should have put a bet on it...

BBC, today

Paid a day early.

Thank feck for that.

1. That repetitive monotone machine gun laughter, which seems to be a compulsory part of every phone conversation undertaken in an open-plan office. "Hurhurhurhurhurhurhur..."
2. The weekly re-appearance of the "Mysterious Sue from the Unknown Team in the Completely Obscure Office on the Other Side of the Universe is Adopting a Baby Elephant, so Give Us A Tenner You Stingy Git" envelope.
3. Anything to do with IT. IT never bloody works.
4. Babies. Why oh why? Your friends will come to your house to see it. If they haven't come round, they're not really your friends. And please understand that not all females come with a built-in "coo" mechanism.
5. The poison dwarf, whose primary career development aim is to perfect the art of Soul-Destroying Superbitching. Every office has one.

Ahhhh That'll do for now...

I'm writing an article about fondues.

God help me.

What's more, I'm going to have to entitle it: "Still fond of fondues?", or some similar groan-wringingly terrible header.

Is this where my life is taking me...?

Saturday night was great fun though

So it was one of those Sundays that can only be considered as Monday's foreplay. (And, no offence my dear Monday, but I think we all know how crap you are.)

Morning a write-off (well, except for the Budvar-and-blast-from-the-past-chicken-kebab hours that came before 4am), for reasons of much-needed unconsciousness.

Afternoon spent in dreary contemplation of the box, the brain incapable of making any kind of working connection in order to create a thought, since all of the energy usually diverted to it is being sapped in order to fuel the massive emergency repair job that is taking place on the rest of my alcohol-abused body.

Post-FA Cup was the low point. Woe and despair as the list of things I am not doing builds up accusingly in my head (tackling the ever-increasing pile of freelance work; cleaning up the beer-bottle-strewn flat; preparing for my holiday; eating chocolate; having sex....)

Evening, and it's time to officially acknowledge the fact that the only purpose of this Sunday is to build up (or down, rather) to Monday morning, and I might as well submit now and have an early night.

So I go to bed and read some more of American Psycho (which then makes me not want to fall asleep, for reasons of much-dreaded nightmares - I knew I should have started The Long Way Round instead...).

Next thing I know, I'm dragging myself out from under the covers at 6.45am, feeling not one whit refreshed, and trawling off to get the bus.

And what do I see plastered all over the bus stop, but stickers advertising this:

National Phone In Sick Day.

It's a conspiracy, I'm telling you.

*chuckle*

Ananova, today.

People have been telling me for years that I could do better. And not in the negative sense.

As in, you're better than that. You're better than that job. You're better than him. You're capable of more than that. You're worth more than that.

And the thing is, I would listen, take it in. Smile, and appreciate that they were saying it because they loved me. They were my friends, my family, and it's the kind of thing that good friends and family say. It's the kind of thing that I would say to them, under similar circmstances. And I would mean it, just as they do.

Bu the truth is, I never really believed it. Because I've always believed that they were wrong.

I always thought that these people just didn't know me well enough. They didn't see my nasty side. Which is true; the vast majority of people I know, if not all of them, don't know how horrible I can be. How selfish. How manipulative. The lies. Self-pity. How sly. How nasty.

The dark side, if you like.

I've always thought, they don't know that about me. And I can't tell them. Because they wouldn't understand, because they're not like that. They're much better people than me, all of them. They'd be shocked at these things, at this side of me. They'd think so much less of me, and rightly so.

So I couldn't explain to them why I thought they were wrong when they said these things to me. Because, in order to make them understand, I'd have to reveal what I was really like. And I couldn't risk them finding that out.

Because then they simply wouldn't like me any more. Or, at least, they wouldn't like me as much. Their opinion of me would change. And, no matter what happened afterwards, they would never feel exactly the same way about me again.

I still think that's true, you know. After all, it happened before, on one hugely regrettable occasion that I'm so sorry for, and know I can never make up for. I let someone down who really cared about me, and although I know he still does care about me, its not the same. He'll never trust me in the same way again. And I really can't blame him - and don't.

But.

You know what else?

I'm starting to think that I'm not quite as bad as I thought I was. Or, at least, that I've allowed myself to improve. That my good side is a much bigger part of me these days.

Because I'm recognising that, just as that bad side is part of me, this good side is also part of me. And, in fact, that I'm actually more good than bad.

You'd think that this kind of facile revelation is better placed around puberty than just before I hit 30. There's certainly something about it all that smacks (quite heavily) of teenage angst. But hey, I guess insecurity doesn't just magically disappear when you hit 21.

The things is, people can always say that you could do better. That you're worth more; you deserve more. But, until you start valuing yourself, it's never going to happen. Because you're never going to believe that you're worthy of more.

So, if anything worthwhile does actually come your way, you'll either dismiss it out of hand, thinking it's just not "you", or you'll run a mile in fear that you'll be discovered for the sham that you are.

Or, you'll simply sit there and fuck it all up for yourself. And, once you've fucked it up, you can sit in the remains of the mess around you and wallow in what is almost some perverse sense of satisfaction at the knowledge that you've proved yourself right once more.

You knew you couldn't do it. You knew that you weren't worth more than that. You knew that they were wrong and you were right. You just knew it.

But maybe, just maybe, it doesn't have to be like that.

So, to all you wonderful, compassionate, supportive people out there, who I'm so lucky to know and have in my life - tell me again. Maybe I'll listen. And maybe, this time, I'll agree.

(God, am I really about to post this? Ah fuckit, why not?)

xx

Isn’t it great, and so reassuring, the way that we can stand back from things and get some perspective; analyse logically; work everything complicated out in our heads, and come to conclusions that we instinctively know are completely right and the most sensible and optimum way forward for all concerned? 

And isn’t it absolutely sod’s law that we then go and do completely the opposite? 

Still, at least it keeps life from being boring.

And I know how to do messy. If you want proof, just look at how I eat chocolate (melted, off the fingers, mmmmmm...).

Yep.

x

Beware...

So a third of us Brits apparently lie about books we've read in order to seem more intelligent, while 40% of us tell this lie just to stay in the conversation. 

(I'm guessing if they limited the survey to students on English degrees, that figure would be a lot nearer the 100% mark... and yes, I did... well you try trawling through four 18th-century novels a week, then...)

And 10% of men tell this lie in order to impress the opposite sex.

(I'm not being sexist, honest - the MLA survey won't tell me the female statistic. Although, I'm sure we all know which gender would storm ahead in the 'lies told in order to get laid' survey... )

So, what have you never read?

Hm, now this could be interesting...

Wikileaks

Gentlemen, can you:

• Shake hands like a man?
• Carve a Sunday roast?
• Tie a bow tie?
• Toss a caber? 
• Navigate by the stars?
• Change a baby’s nappy?
• Dive like Tarzan?
• Undo a bra with one hand?
• Fight a raging fire?
• Rip a phone book in half?
• Survive in prison?
• Gut a fish?
• Fix a dripping tap?
• Win at arm wrestling?
• Dance?

If not, fear not:

Amazon

So, they've now got Lonely Hearts for farmers on the back of milk cartons, according to Ananova, today.

But are only dairy farmers allowed?

In which case we could soon see:

• Arable farmers striking a pose on packs of Shredded Wheat
• Orchard owners on cartons of apple juice
• Sheep farmers on the backs of jumpers
• Horticulturalists on the wrappings around Interflora bouquets (possibly a conflict of interests with the Valentine's Day customers)

But think of the luckiest group of all, who should be assured of great success as the blurry images on the backs of bottles ensure a satisfactory outcome for many a viticulturalist after a few glasses of wine...

Right.

Today I have created a To Do list using Mindmap.

This means I have all my tasks listed (in order), each of which is broken down into task stages (in order), and some of those are broken down yet again. A little family tree of tasks, if you will.

I now know exactly where I am and what I need to do in order to actually achieve something today.

I also have a 'very-pretty-in-a-satisfyingly-logical-kinda-way' spider diagram to contemplate when I'm bored - no, no!

Right. Now that's done, I'm off for a cup of tea...

Someone has seriously just emailed this to me:

"Why wait until the summer before you bask in the warm Mediterranean sunshine, when you can enjoy the sun all year round with Fragata Spanish Olives?"

Just think of the money I can save on my energy bills. In fact, I might even be able to save the planet, now that I know I can disable my central heating and pop to the shops instead for my very own little tub of solar electromagnetic radiating fruit...

People are always telling me I'm a freak magnet...

What type of person do you attract? Your Result: You attract artsy people! Those free spirited artists with great imaginations find you interesting. They are usually interesting themselves, so its not a bad thing, but they CAN be a bit wifty and choose odd goals. If you like life to always be a bit 'different' from the norm, but not too extreme in any one direction, these are the people for you. If you seek logical decision making skills and good money management, you may want to change something in the way you appear. Artsy people are fun for adventure and exploring, so, have fun! (smoking weed helps too)
You attract unstable people!
You attract geeks!
You attract models!
You attract Yuppies!
You attract rednecks!
What type of person do you attract? Quizzes for MySpace

To be honest, I thought the whole furore over racism on Big Brother was over the top.

Not because I thought the comments being made weren't racist. But because all the fuss implied surprise that many of those who end up on Big Brother - "Celebrity" (ahem) or otherwise - are unfailingly ignorant, rude and desperate for the limelight.

Because that's such a shock discovery. 

What really offends me is the outcome of this show, which consistently ensures that a load of ridiculously self-obsessed, mind-numbingly thick and morbidly offensive people are handed shiteloads of money on a plate and end up believing that they and their embarrassingly ignorant views warrant a place of note in the world today.

http://media.guardian.co.uk/broadcast/story/0,,1996465,00.html

Darn it.

... I shall be here:

Bon Ton Resort, Pulau Langkawi.

"one jewel of a place... the atmosphere is idyllic... exotic villas... a view of the stars... exquisite antique wood houses atop stilts… a 100 year old coconut plantation... centred around a pool/jacuzzi... a serene lagoon... tranquillity..."

So I've been given the go-ahead at work to switch to part-time hours as of April, the plan being that this will allow me to devote more time to becoming a much sought-after, greatly esteemed and fantastically wealthy freelance writer. Great news!

Except...

Yes: the niggles have started.

All those details that seemed so insignificant last week have sneakily joined forces behind my back and turned themselves into the Veritable Himalayas of Doubt.

Including:

• The impending expenses of a Malaysian holiday.
• The impending expenses of my entire year.
• My unenviable talent for procrastination (to wit: this blog).

(Can I just say, at this moment, that the 'e' character on my keyboard has stuck and is reeeeeeeeeeeally pissing me off...

Now, where was I?.... Ah yes...)

• My even-less-enviable talent for complete and utter disorganisation.
• The recent nosedive dip of my regular freelancing commissions, as one magazine has cut its budget and another just isn't paying me full stop, due to "cashflow issues" (which have now been going on for six months - yes, that's right, I am a mug...)
• The fact that I am a mug.
• The fact that most freelancers get paid crap money, which they then have to keep chasing up all the time from crappier accounts departments.
• My complete inability to negotiate, haggle, demand or otherwise stand up for myself when it comes to self-worth.
• My hatred of self-assessment tax returns.
• The fact that I eat a lot more at home than I do at the office.
• The fact that I drink a lot more at home than I do at the office.
• The mortgage. THE MORTGAGE!!

Jesus. I really could carry this list on forever.

I'll stop now.

Breathe. Breathe!

Seriously.

It's just divine.

Well. I had fun, anyway.

I felt as though the tears were being slowly yanked out of me, as someone pulled my stomach out through my skin.

I felt as though I were there, shocked, petrified and oh-so-small, as complete understanding smashed its way through the final defences.

It seduced me onto his journey, then grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me roundly.

I haven't felt that like during a film in a long while.

Fantastic performances. Go and watch it.

The Last King of Scotland

I often get offered coffee when I do restaurant reviews.

But not usually "private coffee". With the owner. 

His head spun whiplash-quick into profile and the loudest ever click of tongue on teeth in the history of the world echoed around the room, as he delivered the most painstakingly deliberate, excruciatingly obvious, entire-face-and-practically-even-neck-creasing wink I've ever witnessed.

And, just in case I was comatose, or dead, or had the IQ of Jade Goody, and had therefore missed the hint, he immediately followed up with the information that his flat was just above the restaurant.

Where he lived alone.
And happened to have coffee.
And I was welcome to sample it.
And the coffee.
Wink.

The things some people will do to get a good write-up.

Nope...

Maybe I won't go running tonight...

(Well, maybe...)

So Batman came up to me and hit me over the head with a vase, and went: "T'PAU!" I said: "Don't you mean KAPOW?" He said: "No, I've got china in my hand."

So I went to buy a watch, and the man in the shop said: "Analogue?" I said: "No, just a watch."

So I went in to a pet shop. I said: "Can I buy a goldfish?" The guy said: "Do you want an aquarium?" I said: "I don't care what star sign it is."

So I phoned the local ramblers club today, and this bloke just went on and on.

So this lorry full of tortoises collided with a van full of terrapins. It was a turtle disaster.

So I phoned the local builders today, and I said: "Can I have a skip outside my house?" He said: "I'm not stopping you."

So this cowboy walks in to a German car showroom and he says: "Audi."

So I met this bloke with a didgeridoo and he was playing Dancing Queen on it. I thought that's Aboriginal.

So I visited the offices of the RSPCA today. It's so tiny you can't swing a cat in there.

So I was stealing things in the supermarket today whilst balanced on the shoulders of vampires. I was charged with shoplifting on three counts.

So I went to the local video shop and I said: "Can I get Batman Forever?" He said, "No, you'll have to bring it back tomorrow."

Cheers, H

I have an 'Away Day' to attend tomorrow with my esteemed colleagues, where we will be addressing the issue of: "Are We Doing The Right Things, And Are We Doing Them Right?"

(That is actually the official title of our agenda, by the way.)

So this is how I see my day unfolding:

1. Spend morning drinking copious amounts of vile machine coffee and shuddering helplessly as the caffeine and waves of strategic management bullshit-speak frustrate and overwhelm me.
2. Overwhelming frustration drives me to drink all the free wine at lunch. Quickly.
3. Devote afternoon to the art of drunkenly introducing as much ridiculous bullshit-speak (or, as the wine has now allowed it to become, "bullshpeak")into the afternoon's conversation as possible, for my own private amusement.

Then, of course, I shall lapse into sullen silence around 3.30pm as the inevitable headache kicks in.

Sounds like a quick-win to me.