Well hello.. Have beed a tad quiet of late on the blogging front. There have been many changes in my life since I last blogged. Most of which I don't think I should be writing about on here. Which poses the question, what exactly can I write about? So I bid you farewell. I think Bored in Leith has had it's day. Thank you for reading, It's been fun for me. I will start another blog no doubt, but the title and it's contents will be very different. Know that I am happy, optomistic, and far from bored.
Tomorrow at work we have been asked if we can all wear a scarf for fun. Not even a Hawaiian shirt. No we laugh in the face of a Hawaiian Shirt. A scarf. Because thats the kind of crazy people we are.
Happy New Year to you. I'm sorry guys, I seem to have lost all interest in this thing. I will get back on it sometime. Its just that at the moment I feel i have nothing much to tell you. As soon as something interesting or annoying happens ill be sure to let you know. Meantime why dont you lot tell me something interesting or annoying instead?
I was at my works official Christmas Party last night. I didn't want to go. I'm not good at these things. What I didn't realise till I got inside is that this is the high point in most peoples social calendar, and that a lot of effort had gone into each and every outfit. It was obvious that the women had been to the hairdressers to get strange things done to their hair, and spent a fortune on their dress. Unfortunately they all looked like shit. The entertainment came in the form of "C.J. the D.J." and a cover band. I felt the need to make my own entertainment if I was going to last till 1am so I pulled the helium balloons off our table, pierced a hole in them, inhaled as much as I could and sang along to "daydream believer" . Then I had the whole table doing it, then we stole balloons from other tables. That continued for 3 or 4 numbers. It only has a comedy value of about 1 and a half numbers.
In true buffet style, the food looked nice but wasn't. I found myself breaking up bits of quiche and throwing them at people round the table and looking the other way. I was throwing bits of pakora, aiming for Kats cleavage when C.J. the D.J. announced that the buses were waiting outside to take us to town. The bus was full of arseholes singing hibees anthems. The bus driver was pretty unamused at this and kept pulling over until they shut up, only for them to start again singing "the driver of the bus is a jambo". So a great time was had by all. Can hardly wait till the next one.
I think I was actually a gypsy in a previous life. In this life, I find it hard to settle and I often dream of living somewhere else, only to then move on again.
You know how people talk about how they would spend the money if they won the lottery? Sure I would start with seeing our families were ok, but then, I want to buy a street. Probably in Glasgow. Well perhaps not a street, but 4 or 5 houses in a row. Nice big tenemant houses like the ones you get in the West End. I would then give my friends a house each, and we could knock down the walls in all the back gardens and have one huge garden. It would then be a little community, where we could share our lives.
I would also buy a place in the country somewhere idylic, with a view of the sea. The house would have a huge kitchen with an aga, a belfast sink and a stone floor. I would be dressed in an old knitted cardi with holes making pasta for the masses. I would then pop over to the barn next to the house which has been converted into a studio. In it would be Alan making a new album with his friends. They would let me hear what they had done for the day and I would smile and tell them to take a break and get their dinner. After a few weeks the album would be finished and Alan and I can book a holiday, as my toy shops practically run themselves.
I am often told that I am a dreamer, and that I need to get realistic. I disagree. I think our dreams are what get us out of bed in the morning.
I have a toy car on my desk. It's a mini cooper. I know someone who has always dreamt of owning one, but felt that it would be selfish and unpractical to get one. It's on my desk to remind me that your dreams are closer than you think and that you can get what you want if you believe it can happen. Today I do.
So now lets hear your dreams, however unrealistic they may be .
I have been tidying up my music and video files on my computer today, and put everything in appropriate folders. I then chose a picture for each folder so its quicker on the eye to find. I was putting all my dawson's crack ones together( oh leave me alone aren't I allowed to like one uncool thing?) and realised I now had a great excuse to go to google images and search for a good Pacey pic. And........ oh...... my........ god! He is ridiculously good looking isn't he? I named the folder Pacey's Pond. No one liked Dawson.
Last night I thought I was going to die. Really. I woke up to find I had an unbearable pain in my chest, and pins and needles down my arm. I couldn't breath properly. It was 4am in the morning. I cried and swore till I woke up Alan, who quickly ran through a checklist in his head.
What is wrong with her? Is she having a heart attack? No she is 30. Where have I seen this behaviour before? When she drank a real ale. She is allergic to yeast. What did she eat before bed? Half a slab of brie on ryvita with mango chutney. What's in brie? Yeast. And Mould. Why would anyone eat brie?
She has wind. She thinks she's dying though.
Meantime, I'm still contorting myself into weird shapes, crying, panting, swearing and wailing. Alan got me to get out of bed and walk around, force fed me hot drinks and gave me a hot water bottle. The tea made the pain go away gradually, and after an hour or so I decided quietly that I might not be dying after all. I slinked back to the bedroom, got back in bed, and slept soundly till the morning.
That's me on the left there, regaining my composure for the camera, having moments beforehand stabbed that wanker behind me in the leg with my pen.
I am nearing the end of my first week of "training", there is another 3 weeks of training/pointless quizzes and enforced team bonding sessions to go.
The weird thing is, so far, I don't hate it. There are are way too many similarities to school for my liking, such as scary cliquey girls, a shite canteen and teachers, but in the pro column is good pay, bareable shift patterns and less responsibility.
Will I be there in 3 years? Unlikely. But then that's what I said about the Science Centre.
This morning, I got into work only to be told I am no longer required as they are having some financial difficulties and have been advised to lay me off. My boss was very apologetic and explained that the retail industry is going through a rough time at the moment. This is all bollocks of course. I didn't fit in, they didn't like me, I was still on my probation period, they got rid. So its only been 5 weeks and already I am back to where i started.
Well I am having a pretty shit time of it just now. I am always skint, but my skintness has reached an all time low. Our heads aren't above water, they are 3000ft below sea level, and my feet are stuck in sludge. Between us, Alan and I have three jobs, but are living on toast.
The fact that I now work in a particularly affluent area of Edinburgh only highlights this more. The ladies of leisure I meet reek of money. They shop in Waitrose and have handbags that cost the equivalent to three months of my salary. When I go to the cashline at lunchtime, there is always a woman in front, taking out a massive wad, no doubt to buy more ridiculously priced organic vegetables and a couple of bottles of wine from Peckhams. I don't hate these people, don't get me wrong, I am just sort of confused. I mean what is the score George Doors?
I know that most of my friends are struggling away too, with the daily challenge of how to make dinner for under £1 but I just don't get why. We are nearly middle aged. Why is it such a struggle for us and a picnic set from Harvey Nicks for everyone else? This wasn't in the brochure. Life does indeed suck.
But I do like a challenge.
You know those maths puzzles they gave you at school? A bit like this?
Tamara has a dozen organic apples. If she gives her neighbours, the Castletons, 6 apples Will they invite her to their masquerade ball?
It should have been more realistic
Sarah Has £8.68 to last her until Friday. It costs £2.30 a day to get to work and its only Monday. She needs toilet roll (0.99p) Cat Food (0.29p x 3 per day) Milk 0.99p And fags £2.70 per day There are still cuppa soups and some ready meals from last year in the freezer that she hates, but bread would be nice. (0.24p)in LIDL.
How can Sarah last till Friday without selling:-
a) everything she owns on ebay b) drugs c) herself?
Bored in Leith will now be Entertained in Balado. I am just taking a break from packing to say that I am very chuffed and can't wait to chill out and get quietly pished in the sun. Again.
So I am jobless. The shop wasn't making enough to pay my wages, and I had to go. I can't decide if I am relieved or miserable. Miserable is always easier. I could just get under the duvet, sleep for 15 hrs a day and start to smell. Fact is, I don't have that luxury. I also believe that it was the right time for this to happen. My job wasn't exactly taxing, and the money wasn't great. It was a pleasant and cushy job, but a boring one. I needed a kick up the arse to do something about it, and here it is.
I'm back in the world of interviews for jobs I will hate, faking a big grin and a warm personality. I'm raking out my smart employable clothing and trawling job sites and shopping center's for vacancies. The bugger is that I haven't been off for nearly a year, but I can't just relax and enjoy it because not having a job freaks me right out. Similar to pulling a sickie. I always found when I did that my day off was spent feeling slightly guilty about not being at work.*
Today is the end of my first day of unemployment, and hopefully I wont have too many more.
I just need to say thank you to Alan. Alan was my boss in Angelic, about 7 years ago, and we have always stayed in touch. He now has his own shop, Cloud 9 and its really taking off for him. Ten minutes after I had told him of my misery, he came and picked me up, and drove me round suitable areas in Edinburgh for a shop of my own. We went back to his for a cuppa, where his partner Gary threw ideas and info on funding and advice at me, and I have an appointment with Business Gateway tomorrow at 2pm. He knows that I have always wanted my own shop, and he is proof that it is achievable. So I still need a job, but meantime ill get the ball rolling for a place of my own. Why the hell not. So thank you both of you. You came and did that just when I needed it. And gave me a confidence boost to boot.
"Sadie, you could sell sand to Arabs luv" were his exact words.
* To any future employees, please note that I haven't actually ever had a sickie. Well not for about a year. And I am very reliable, but time is not my friend. Thank you.
There is a conspiracy going on here. And I don't like it. Let me explain the turn of events to see if you agree.
1.Every night, I take my pill before bed. Last week I go to take one as usual and notice that I am near the end of my packet. I look in my drawer where I keep the six month supply, and discover that it must be six months since I got them as they are gone. In the morning I wake up extra early to call the doctors, who arrange a repeat prescription.
2. The same morning, I get to the bathroom, realise I feel a bit off, have explosive diarrhea, and have to stretch over and grab the mop bucket to be sick at the same time. That lasts for 2 days. I later discovered it was a bug that lots of the cast at the show got as well.
3. Once the bug had subsided, I pick up my prescription, and head off to the chemist. I wait for ages whilst the pharmacists talk amongst themselves, stroke chins, and look through charts and books. Then they tell me that the pill I have been on for the last 2 years, Microval, has been taken off the market, and that I will have to go back to the Doctors to get a different prescription. I go right away, and see the doctor who recommends Noriday. (I love the name, No ri Day or remora). The Doctor reminds me that as I am on a new pill, I am unprotected for 7 days.
4.Three days into the new pill, and I get toothache. The kind of toothache that hurts with hot and cold things. Which in my experience, means an abscess. Which means antibiotics. (I haven't actually been to the dentist yet. Real fear and lack of money is putting me off. So if any one can recommend a nice and painless one in edinburgh please do!)
Do you see where I am going here?
Well I tell you, o big finger waving being from above with superior power and a GSOH, you are not catching me out. You hear? Yes, it is true that I am probably the healthiest I have been in a long time. And its summer, and summer = randy-ness, and you have tried to get me on every angle,
Is it his rugged good looks? No His cute wee hat? No, although I am partial to a man in a hat. Is it because he is a Super-Flexer? Could come in handy but no.
I Love this man because today he gave me two tickets for Indian Summer. His name is Fraser and he is a DJ for the fine station that is Xfm Scotland.
Thank you Fraser for picking me as the winner. I do apologise for rambling on air for all the world to hear, but my 30 seconds of fame were pretty nerve wracking! I had just been reading about that festival and thought how nice it would be to have more money and be able to just buy tickets for things on a whim.
So I said I wouldn't watch it this year, but last night I'm glad I did. Day 1 and already one of the freaks well, freaks. Over the lack thereof of the above. If you are too cool to watch BB, get over yourself and catch it again here. She is Clip of the Day, but I imagine she will be clip of the year. There is a small coincidence here though. I was talking to Lorraine yesterday about how good I am and that this is week four of my healthy eating and I'm drinking lots of water. (I had a relapse last night, a kebab and a box of Quality Street.) She informed me that tap water is infact better than bottled water as bottled could be on the shelf for years. Makes sense, but then she told me that tap water although filtered can still contain traces of other peoples medication, such as the pill and antidepressants. Not that either of those getting into my blood stream would be a bad thing but what about everything else? Ritalin, Diocalm, Methedone, Betablockers?
