Now I haven't actually...

...been tagged by Caron for this meme but her post made me giggle so I had to do it myself.

Just like her I could also choose Lewis Hamilton (Red means stop you twassock!) or Ashley Cole (I don't even like Cheryl much but Ashley is scum), I could even have chosen the dreadful Katie Price, mainly because I'm fed up with selling books with her face on them.

Instead I've gone for a man who makes my blood pressure rocket. A man who has the job of passing on other peoples whiny comments on a Saturday morning.

(and please bear in mind the torment I went through to find this!)

BBC Newswatch

I'm sure he's a lovely man really, but his voice is like fingernails on a blackboard to me!

I really didn't think...

...that men like him existed any more, but they do.

Now don't get me wrong, this colleague of mine is a nice guy, he works hard.

But that fact that he is CONSTANTLY patronising me because I'm female, that is driving me bonkers.

The way he constantly offers to carry/move things for me could be seen as a polite act, if it wasn't for the condescending smile and the "I'll get that love, it's too heavy for you". The fact is I'm actually fitter than he is, the man who is on a constant diet and has to use the lift to go up to the second floor or he's to out of breath to talk.

I also don't know anything about sport because I'm female. My interest in Formula One puzzled him until he discovered that Anthony is also a fan. I'm now a fan because Anthony is, not because I liked it myself beforehand.
The last time he watched a race was when Damon Hill won the championship, yup, back in 1996. Despite this, he is an expert on the sport.

Today he spent a good 20 minutes telling me which drivers and teams he rates this year, told me exactly why the Bahrain GP was so boring "not that I watched it mind, but they mentioned it on the news" and attempted to explain to me how a double diffuser works. Then he said "and I have to tell you, though *whispers* I'm not a queer like, that Schumacher has come back fit for his age. It's like that Lewis lad, he's a fit one too, not that I'm a queer like, I'm just saying"

Oh, Dear. God.

I swear the only reason I didn't call him out for being a homophobic know-it-all was because I was too busy trying not to laugh in his face.

Mind you, if he calls me Katie once more, I swear I'll do to him what I threatened at the Christmas works do - "If you call me Katie one more f**king time, your balls will be dangling from the top of Nelson's f**king Column"

I don't really have...

...a defined personal belief system.

I don't buy into "heaven and hell" but equally I would like there to be something more than nothing.

It changes from time to time, some days the knowledge that the atoms that made up my dad (and grandparents, and great-grandparents, and Julius Caesar / Cleopatra / Champion the Wonder Horse) are all still floating about out there in other things is enough, other days it is comforting to think of Dad on a cloud buying a heavenly pint for Humphrey Lyttelton / Spike Milligan / his best mate Brian.

Today I need something a little more than atoms.

Today I need to know that the man (not gentleman as will become very clear) that I encountered on my way home will burn in a fiery hell. Or possibly drown in a wet one. I'm leaning towards drowning.

Imagine that you are driving down a road in the rain (in your flashy Mercedes, probably bought with proceeds from drugs/guns/prostitutes) and you see that the car ahead of you has just driven through a very large puddle, forcing a woman approaching the edge of the road (in fact on the pavement about 2 metres from the kerb) to jump backwards to avoid being splashed.

Do you:

a) Slow down and flash your lights to indicate that she can cross in front of your car and wait for her to get out of splashing range before driving on.

b) Slow down and flash your lights to indicate that she can cross in front of your car but then as she approaches the edge of the kerb slam your foot on the accelerator and speed through the puddle soaking her to the skin while honking your horn.

I suppose I should think myself lucky for being wary and not getting run over.

As it is that man has a nice little eternity being dreamt up for him.

Twunt.

Did you ever do finger painting...

...when you were a child?


Did you dip your hands in paint and do hand prints?



Did you ever do footprint painting?




Were you a messy child who used to get carried away?





I did and was and my mother has just found some photographic proof.









Look at my lovely blonde curls!

(The gentleman on the left is Andrew, he was my partner in crime)

I have always loved...

...mucking about with spreadsheets. That is until recently.

The changes at work resulted in two redundancies, we lost a full-time position and a part-time one. Another colleague had her hours reduced. She opted to leave and so Don has stayed, although he now only does 16 hours a week rather than full time. The three part timers that we used to have were all working overtime to do full time hours anyway since we are a full time member of management short. These changes mean that we have gone from having 4 full timers to 2 part timers and since we still have that vacancy...it's all a bit of a nightmare.

In order to free up some of Richie's valuable time I volunteered to take over doing the rotas.

I now loathe spreadsheets!

Here are some lovely photographs of what I have gotten myself into.




(sorry about the quality, had to use my phone camera - and they're not worth looking at in detail anyway as THEY MAKE NO SENSE!)

Once we have filled that vacancy the rotas will work well, in fact I have already worked out the base daily rotas. The problem at the moment is that because of the vacancy we can't use the base rotas as it would result in there being nobody there to open the shop...hence all the crossings-out and bizarre extra shifts.

Apart from me now being not so keen on spreadsheets it is also making me want to stay as far away from any type of typing as possible (and putting me behind with my OU work, but that's another (eventual) post).

So many apologies (yet again) for being a crap CRAP blogger.

I will be back with you at some point, probably once I have started sleeping properly rather than lying awake worrying about only having 4 staff on a Saturday.

(and I also spent most of this afternoon being convinced it was Wednesday...)

As a citizen...

...of the United Kingdom (being over 18, not a member of the House of Lords, not in prison, and not an idiot) I went and voted today. In fact I went and voted about 10 minutes ago.

And I was amazed.

I handed my small white polling card to the man at the desk and he ticked my name off a list and then handed me a folded yellow piece of paper.

I walked to the little wooden booth and unfolded the paper. And unfolded it again. And again. And again.

There were twelve parties listed on my yellow piece of wallpaper roll. I considered each one carefully.

1) The British National Party - not a hope in hell of getting my vote, racist hate-mongering bastards.

2) The Conservative Party - hmmmm, that Dave is rather convincing but I still don't think a lot of them.

3) Christian Party-Christian Peoples Alliance - see party no.1.

4) English Democrat - Never heard of them, never even sent me a leaflet.

5) Green Party - Ahhh, heard of them, they like hugging trees and saving whales. According to the note on the paper they are "A Vote Against Racism".

6) Jury Team - People who were once on a jury? (see no.4)

7) The Labour Party - Don't even go there, and especially don't take your travel expenses out of my taxes.

8) Liberal Democrats - Well...Vince Cable's book is selling quite well.

9) Libertas - Aren't they something to do with that awful orange Kilroy-Silk man? (Nope, having checked, he set up Veritas)

10) No2EU - well yes, but do you stand for anything else? And can you spk prpr engsh?

11) Socialist Labour Party - underneath this it said "Leader - Arthur Scargill". *silence*

12) UK Independence Party - Ah yes, the OTHER party associated with the orange racist.

------------------------

So, 12 parties...who could I possibly choose?

In the end I decided to vote for Mrs Swinburne because, "We are on the brink of a new era, if only..."

and if you know what that means, not only do you know who I voted for, but you have very good taste in television comedy.

Blue, blue...

...blue.

January has me in its miserable grip.

Every single customer at work is rude and or abusive - the winner being the woman who called me a f**king cow when I asked her to put in her pin number while she was on the phone to a friend.

The blog I go to for happy thoughts and positive thinking, cjane, has had no end of crap being talked about it in various places due to her success (subject to confirmation) in the 2008 Weblog Awards.
This includes criticism of the fact that she has been fundraising for her sister, the fact she has been raising her sister's kids, the picture of herself as an angel in her blog header, and the fact that she has been moderating her comments over the last six months in an attempt to keep things positive and upbeat. Good grief. I worry about the world when people stop understanding jokes and sarcasm and decide that she's an evil person who only gave her nephew gum for his birthday.

Plus I'm feeling broody/empty, a currently unsolvable problem.

So tonight I have come home and dug out a song guaranteed to make me cry my eyes out.



Then I put on the song with the longest intro in the world (lyrics start at 3:24)



Then Anthony walked in the front door, I put on a song from my 150for30 play list and the world got brighter.



(Forgot today was Thursday, that goes a long way towards explaining me ranting!)

I'm a little bit...

...fed up with the fact I've caught the flurgy twice in the last four weeks.

Partly cos it nearly killed me yesterday morning.

I was nicely asleep and having a surreal dream about Grandma Mazur (reading too much Stephanie Plum methinks) when I was woken up by a sneeze.
I reached down to the box of tissues...empty.
I woke up Anthony to check his side for tissues...nada.
So I hauled myself out of bed to go downstairs to the bathroom and grab some toilet roll.

Except the fact I was still rather sleepy meant that I didn't put my left foot where I should have done at the top of the stairs.

This resulted in me sliding down the stairs on my right side and landing in a heap at the bottom. (Anthony was out of bed and nearly at the top of the stairs before I hit the bottom).

Ow.

Ow, ow, ow, ow, OW!

These are the stairs that I went sliding down (note the white marks on the edges of the bottom seven stairs).

Below you can see what my right calf and right thigh looked like just afterwards (those white marks on the stairs...the skin from my calf). The swelling on my thigh just kept growing, it was a B cup size before any bruising started to come though.





I trotted off to the doctor (ie Anthony gave me a lift there and then I took 20 mins to do the 5 min walk home) since I'd also banged my head (no bruising there, sorry) and he was quite amazed that I hadn't broken anything (as was I). I just had to wait for the swelling to subside before I tried to spend a large amount of time on my feet. He also said "You'll probably have a little bit of colour change around that swelling in the next few days".

He wasn't wrong.

So for your viewing hilarity I present to you.

Kate's Rainbow Leg (over the course of yesterday afternoon)




The bit above the crescent shape is where it is still swollen (although probably only an A cup now) from a haematoma that is "probably going to take a few weeks to come out properly" - as in the swelling to go and that bit of bruise to come out. Since this is me...the folks in the Center Parcs Spa will probably be wondering how I got that bruise when I go there in March!

This time of year...

...there are lots of biographies about with incredibly cheesy covers.

Yesterday I saw the worst one ever. It made me laugh so hard I almost wet myself.

So for your amusement I present to you, the current F1 World Champion (you know, the one who can't tell the difference between a green light and a red one)...

Mr Lewis Hamilton


*rolls on floor in fits of laughter all over again*

Although I have to admit that the picture on the inside front cover is worse. In that one he's taken the racing suit off and is standing there in a shiny suit, adjusting his tie with the hand wearing a big blingy ring and looking like a pimp.

A cheap pimp.

On this occasion however, I hope that this does sell. Mainly because if it doesn't (and we haven't sold a single book about Spewis since he won his Championship) then I will be spending the next 4 weeks shifting 96 copies of it to various places around the shop.

Ingredients...

...for a relaxing bath.

iPod (in iPod dock) - for listening to audio books and therefore not having to actually hold a book.
Lush bath ballistics - for lovely coloured & scented water.
£1.50 - as credit on the electricity meter (as that's how much it costs to fill the bath with hot water using the electric shower - the boiler isn't up to the job)
candles - for pleasant relaxing lighting.

Added ingredient - Foley.

Foley + inquisitiveness + candles = horrible smell of burning hair + Foley with singed patch on bottom.



(She is fine, just lost a little more of the dignity she didn't have in the first place!)

Urgh...

...there must be something wonky in my brain to get me up this early.

Anthony has stayed in bed again but since I know that if I attempt to watch this in bed I would fall asleep at a crucial moment.

So I am awake and rather chilly.

Kate + sofa + blanket + cats + cross-stitch + Grand Prix = not asleep + cosy.

This evening...

...I had to work some unpaid overtime in order to get out on display the 13 big new titles that are being published tomorrow. This way as soon as we open in the morning people can start buying them.

One of the books was the new Jacqueline Wilson book, Cookie.

It's in a very nice pink tin (for you to keep your cookies in) which was easier to stack that I thought it would be.

Ahhh...Jacqueline Wilson, a signatory on this statement against age-banding on children's books.

Hang on a sec, what's this on the back, just next to the price and the bar code...

9+

Yup.

Jacqueline Wilson has been age-banded.

I am not a happy bunny.

Update: Wilson's Cookie age-banded (and yes, I know it's What Katy Did rather than Katie - I was typing fast.)

My most favourite book in the world...

...is The Dark Is Rising. Ideally I would be able to cheat slightly and make it the 5-in-1 edition that has all the books in, but if not then just the one will do.

There is a very beautiful hardback edition available (with the same publishers price as the paperback) which is permanently on my recommends bay at work. If you follow the link you can read my review...

*waits for people to do that*

I have to confess that I hadn't actually seen the film, just read its Wikipedia entry. The thought of the story changes made me furious!

Then today it arrived from LoveFilm (I don't actually remember selecting it) so I thought I'd better watch it.

Oh. Dear. Me.

Let's take a story about a boy who is the youngest in his large family ( he has 5 brothers and 3 sisters). They've lived in the same village all their lives and know everyone there. The family are close, the boys sing in the choir at the local church and one of the twins (Paul) is very musical. On Midwinter's Day (his eleventh birthday), Will discovers that he is an Old One and must find Six Signs (wood, bronze, iron, water, fire, stone) to ward off the rising of the Dark. Will is aided by Merriman Lyon (described as a tall man with a fiercely curving nose and lots of thick, wild, white hair), temporary butler to the wheelchair bound Miss Greythorne from Huntercombe Manor . Despite storms and flood Will manages to find all Six Signs and this allows Herne the Hunter to lead the Wild Hunt against the Dark and banish them for a time.

Now lets see... We'll make the family American, they've just moved to a small English village. There are still six boys, but we'll lose two of the girls and make the remaining one the youngest. We'll make Will 14 instead of 11, make his brothers "typical" teenagers, mean to their little brother whenever possible, and we'll make the twins into proper little horrors. Instead of Will being the seventh son because the family's first child died a few days after being born, we'll make it that he had a twin who mysteriously vanished. Let's make that the fault of the father, that gives a good reason for him being totally detached from family life. Then we'll make Miss Greythorne able to walk, and make Merriman into Ian McShane. Have we ruined it enough yet? Nope... Ok, let's cut out any possible references to British folklore and mythology, stick in a random love interest, and make Will have a few "superpowers" along the way. Oh, I nearly forgot, let's make one of the Signs Will's soul and give him his vanished twin back at the end of the film.

Oh. Dear. Me.

I can't think of a book/film adaptation that has been so wrong. I'm not a fan of the Narnia films, but at least they seem to be sticking fairly true to the spirit of the books. This one just takes a few names, a general premise and then invents everything else that it can. Fair enough, the film of Practical Magic did this, but it remained true to the spirit of the book. I'm not keen on David Jason as Rincewind, he doesn't fit my vision of him, but Terry Pratchett was happy with it and ultimately he's his creation.

I would quite like to hunt down every single copy of this film and destroy them.

All I can do is say that if you've seen the film (poor you) and not read the books then please, please, please read the books! Read the books and discover Susan Cooper's mythologically enhanced fantasy masterpiece.

Please.

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(I do have to say that the only character in the film I actually liked was Christopher Ecclestone as The Rider. Ignoring the whole silly English doctor part he also played, as The Rider he was pretty spot on - he'll be the only bit of it I care to remember.)
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Oh good, someone else feels the same way, and managed to express all the hideous changes in fabulous list form!