Sunday, January 09, 2005
Evenin' all. Just a quick post to say that end of my lazy days is upon me. Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo! Nightmare. But at least I'll be employed (although not paid). Yes that's right, it's a volunteer position. Sounds quite good though. The only bastard is that I have to be in Oldham by 9.30am every day. Yaa boo, sucks to that. Not very pretty. I'll have to get up at 6 in order to make it, so set your alarm early, wake up, chuckle to yourself quietly as you think of me dragging my sorry arse out of bed into the cold darkness, then roll over and go back to sleep. Gits. Anyway, I'll let y'all know how it goes.
Thursday, January 06, 2005
Happy Nu Year!
Been a while since I wrote anyting on this I know, but lets face it, my globe trotting's ended. I could tell you about the class house party we had on New Year's eve, but I won't. That's just bore you probably. Anyway, I sincerely hope that all of ye had a grand eve and a wonderfully happy crimble.
I'm still unemployed. Haha, and I have been for ages... and ... and.... I think it's starting to get to me. Nah it's not really. I'm starting a volunteer position on Monday though, working with young tearaways on adventure retreats and urban regeneration projects etc. Shouold be a good laugh. Sian's already done it and has duely informed me (in a Scottish accent) that I'll have a wonderful time. Marvellous. Looking forward to it but I have to be in Oldham by nine thirty every day. Bastardos! That means getting up at half six ish. Oh dear. So I'm desperately trying to reset my body clock following the season to be jolly (Fa lala la laaaaaa, la laaa la la). It's bloody hard but Seema (my personal pharmacist) has put me onto this new tea called Valerian root. To put it mildly it knocks the shit out of you. An hour after imbibing it you're away with the fairies. So anyone having difficulty sleeping, get some Valerian in ya!
Been a while since I wrote anyting on this I know, but lets face it, my globe trotting's ended. I could tell you about the class house party we had on New Year's eve, but I won't. That's just bore you probably. Anyway, I sincerely hope that all of ye had a grand eve and a wonderfully happy crimble.
I'm still unemployed. Haha, and I have been for ages... and ... and.... I think it's starting to get to me. Nah it's not really. I'm starting a volunteer position on Monday though, working with young tearaways on adventure retreats and urban regeneration projects etc. Shouold be a good laugh. Sian's already done it and has duely informed me (in a Scottish accent) that I'll have a wonderful time. Marvellous. Looking forward to it but I have to be in Oldham by nine thirty every day. Bastardos! That means getting up at half six ish. Oh dear. So I'm desperately trying to reset my body clock following the season to be jolly (Fa lala la laaaaaa, la laaa la la). It's bloody hard but Seema (my personal pharmacist) has put me onto this new tea called Valerian root. To put it mildly it knocks the shit out of you. An hour after imbibing it you're away with the fairies. So anyone having difficulty sleeping, get some Valerian in ya!
Saturday, September 11, 2004
Upwardly Mobile
Being back home and being bored and depressed because you have to job hunt etc. is pretty rubbish. Hence my becoming upwardly mobile. By this I mean I'm moving back to the sunnier climes of Manchester. I'm also going to find the job of my dreams there (maybe not this year but surely some day I've got to get lucky). I'm also int he process of ceasing to smoke. This isno easy task but I'venearly managed 72 hours without a whiff of smoke. However, I am cheating a bit as I'm on NRT (nicotine replacement therapy) and so I'm using a surrogate cigarette that looks rather like a tampon and delivers nicotine as you suck on it (but not tar and other nasties found in smoke). I could quite easily see myself becoming addicted to the tampon-esque cigarette instead... if I didn't feel like such a complete tool using it.
Being back home and being bored and depressed because you have to job hunt etc. is pretty rubbish. Hence my becoming upwardly mobile. By this I mean I'm moving back to the sunnier climes of Manchester. I'm also going to find the job of my dreams there (maybe not this year but surely some day I've got to get lucky). I'm also int he process of ceasing to smoke. This isno easy task but I'venearly managed 72 hours without a whiff of smoke. However, I am cheating a bit as I'm on NRT (nicotine replacement therapy) and so I'm using a surrogate cigarette that looks rather like a tampon and delivers nicotine as you suck on it (but not tar and other nasties found in smoke). I could quite easily see myself becoming addicted to the tampon-esque cigarette instead... if I didn't feel like such a complete tool using it.
Monday, August 30, 2004
Home Once More
Returning from holidays, travelling, whatever, is not a fntastic experience at the best of times. Thoughts of going back to work (unless you're a lazy bum like me who's 'currently between jobs'), the ever awful British weather, and the bills that have piled up in your absence. Luckily though, fate decided this wasn't bad enough for me, and the kindly folk at the airport lost my bag. Twats. That's all I have to say. I would thrill you with many a photograph of my French adventure, but obviously it was in my bag, aswell as many other things. For example, I have no belt. All my trousers are purposefully bought to hang low and so since I've returned I've been baring my arse to the general public. Of course, the kindly airport staff have told me to ring up occassionally to see how the search is going. It didn't fill me with confidence when I rang today to be told that they thought they'd found it. 'Was it a red suitcase because we've found one of them?' No, it was a brown leather over night bag you imbecile as I told the woman who filed the report. I feel my bag is lost forever and I don't think that the Ground Services Manager, a muppet who goes by the name of A.E. Stuart, will be of any help in searching for it. Incidentally, I don't know what the A.E. stands for in his name so any witty suggestions will be duly rewarded.
The Hunt Continues
Don't worry, this isn't a continued diatribe on the lost bag theme. This bit concerns a hunt of a different nature. The hunt for a job. Not only for a job, but for a life, a means to being accepted into this modern day society and to no longer be frowned upon by the economically effective percentage of the population. It's going great, I havve to say. In percentage terms, my applications that have lead to interviews stands at 100%. How good is that hey? Alright, so I've only sent of one application form but the kindly folk at the Environment Agency have given my confidence a boost, as I explained in the last post. Actually, it might be worth bunging in a few terms incase a headhunter is using google to find maverick graduates to work for millions of pounds a minute in the landfill sector, particularly concerning landfill gas and the monitoring thereof. Go on, employ me, you know you want to.
Pokey Poke Poke
Whilst in France I took the time and energy to teach my entire family the joys of Texas Hold 'Em. Unfortunately I could never convince more than three people to play at once but still, at least they have another transferable skill they can add to their CV. I've also discovered that one doesn't need to spend a fortune in casino's across the land to improve poker skills. It's as simple as going to the Ladbrokes poker site and entering the necessaries. I haven't got the balls to play for real money yet, mainly because I'm shit at it, but the day will come when I enter my first competition. Failing success on the job market, I can think of worse careers than professional poker playing. But seriously, it's good fun so check it out if your bored out of your mind and have 3 hours to spare.
Returning from holidays, travelling, whatever, is not a fntastic experience at the best of times. Thoughts of going back to work (unless you're a lazy bum like me who's 'currently between jobs'), the ever awful British weather, and the bills that have piled up in your absence. Luckily though, fate decided this wasn't bad enough for me, and the kindly folk at the airport lost my bag. Twats. That's all I have to say. I would thrill you with many a photograph of my French adventure, but obviously it was in my bag, aswell as many other things. For example, I have no belt. All my trousers are purposefully bought to hang low and so since I've returned I've been baring my arse to the general public. Of course, the kindly airport staff have told me to ring up occassionally to see how the search is going. It didn't fill me with confidence when I rang today to be told that they thought they'd found it. 'Was it a red suitcase because we've found one of them?' No, it was a brown leather over night bag you imbecile as I told the woman who filed the report. I feel my bag is lost forever and I don't think that the Ground Services Manager, a muppet who goes by the name of A.E. Stuart, will be of any help in searching for it. Incidentally, I don't know what the A.E. stands for in his name so any witty suggestions will be duly rewarded.
The Hunt Continues
Don't worry, this isn't a continued diatribe on the lost bag theme. This bit concerns a hunt of a different nature. The hunt for a job. Not only for a job, but for a life, a means to being accepted into this modern day society and to no longer be frowned upon by the economically effective percentage of the population. It's going great, I havve to say. In percentage terms, my applications that have lead to interviews stands at 100%. How good is that hey? Alright, so I've only sent of one application form but the kindly folk at the Environment Agency have given my confidence a boost, as I explained in the last post. Actually, it might be worth bunging in a few terms incase a headhunter is using google to find maverick graduates to work for millions of pounds a minute in the landfill sector, particularly concerning landfill gas and the monitoring thereof. Go on, employ me, you know you want to.
Pokey Poke Poke
Whilst in France I took the time and energy to teach my entire family the joys of Texas Hold 'Em. Unfortunately I could never convince more than three people to play at once but still, at least they have another transferable skill they can add to their CV. I've also discovered that one doesn't need to spend a fortune in casino's across the land to improve poker skills. It's as simple as going to the Ladbrokes poker site and entering the necessaries. I haven't got the balls to play for real money yet, mainly because I'm shit at it, but the day will come when I enter my first competition. Failing success on the job market, I can think of worse careers than professional poker playing. But seriously, it's good fun so check it out if your bored out of your mind and have 3 hours to spare.
Friday, August 20, 2004
Reality Ch ch check
Gone are the days of posts relating to swashbuckling adventure in remote corners of the earth. I'm back. Totally. It's had time to sink in and it's well and truly sunk. Not surprising with all this rain.
I'm looking for a job now, and have got my first interview in October. It's a position with the Environment Agency who, according to a friend in the industry, are 'All a bunch of dicks.' I should fit right in then. Still, at least I've got an interview to go to and it'll be a day out if nothing else.
So now that I've realised that I'm totally back and seeking jobs and looking at houses etc, I'm going away again. Well, you need a holiday before you can tackle all that serious shit, so a week in the South of France should suffice and get me fully prepared for a total assault on the job market when I return.
Interesting question that arose in the pub the other night. In the Olympics, England falls into the classification of being GBR, or Great Britain. Why? We're England in other sports, why do we suddenly get clubbed together with Northern Ireland, Scotland and Wales just because it's the Olympics? Any idea anyone?
Gone are the days of posts relating to swashbuckling adventure in remote corners of the earth. I'm back. Totally. It's had time to sink in and it's well and truly sunk. Not surprising with all this rain.
I'm looking for a job now, and have got my first interview in October. It's a position with the Environment Agency who, according to a friend in the industry, are 'All a bunch of dicks.' I should fit right in then. Still, at least I've got an interview to go to and it'll be a day out if nothing else.
So now that I've realised that I'm totally back and seeking jobs and looking at houses etc, I'm going away again. Well, you need a holiday before you can tackle all that serious shit, so a week in the South of France should suffice and get me fully prepared for a total assault on the job market when I return.
Interesting question that arose in the pub the other night. In the Olympics, England falls into the classification of being GBR, or Great Britain. Why? We're England in other sports, why do we suddenly get clubbed together with Northern Ireland, Scotland and Wales just because it's the Olympics? Any idea anyone?
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