Ten Words to Tell a Tale

Evening everyone. I love words. I mean, the etymology, the scientific fact that names with longer vowel sounds are more arousing, the puns, onomatopoeia. All of it. After a witty yet long day at the office (a two-day working week allowed for no routine or calm) I believed a bottle of beer (oh yeah, and alliteration) was in order. 

The poison of choice was Theakston’s Old Peculiar. Well-rounded, dark, full-bodied and also proud sponsor of the Crime Writing Festival, Harrogate. Interesting I thought, niche I thought, turn the bottle round for more details I did. On the reverse label is quite possibly the most prime example of old meets new I have ever seen. Nothing combines artistic literary flair of old, as demonstrated by forefathers such as Dickens, Shakespeare and Kipling with the short, snappy, contemporary Twitter-age attention span of 100 characters quite like the 10 word novel. That’s right. 

Ten words, in a sentence to form a novel. Boom. 

(See what I did there?)

My sceptical nature was erased by the humour the example provided. The Day Lonnie Went Too Far by N J Cooper:

The coke hit. Lonnie Smiled. Then Came Pain. Lonnie Died.

I’m not gonna lie, I kinda liked it. After giving up on Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment after 90 pages of social awkwardness, I found it a welcome relief. I mean, what’s not to like?! Personal tragedy, raw emotion, empathy for the protagonist. Everything you need in a novel.

This prompted me to think further: If you can write a novel in ten words, then what’s to stop you describing a life in the same length of ‘prose’?

So here it goes, here's my life in ten words:

Eloquent ursine male, happy in love, life and drinking ale.

*Bonus points if you make it rhyme*

And yes, it’s harder than it looks. Much harder. That’s it for today I’m afraid. Sorry to cut to the chase. Please post your own 10 word sentence self-portraits on the Facebook page and I look forward to reading them. 

Take care everyone. 

Enjoy the bank holiday.

x

Spaghetti Hoops and MRSA

Evening everyone. I was reminded today by avid reader, former housemate and absolute star Lucy Kightley that I haven’t blogged for a fair period. For those of you who were also aware of this, I salute you and I apologise...and I’m guessing you were looking for more reasons to procrastinate. I would provide you with some sort of excuse, but work, menial household tasks and Pokemon Black have all played their part. (At least I’m honest!)

Anyway, last week in an attempt to get fit for summer I bought a rowing machine, as my legs are built like Jonah Lomu’s but my upper body looks more like Mr Tickle. After a solid eight and half hours work in the office and the luxury of a home-cooked meal I endeavour to sort out our garage (to make space for said rowing machine). I’m not sure if any of you have a room in your house which accumulates junk, but in our house it’s the garage...and the conservatory...and the spare bedroom....but mostly the garage. To put it into some sort of perspective, it’s seen two skips in as many summers. If it was a virus, it would be MRSA. Mostly concentrated in one place; but spreads like a vicious rumour. 

The problem with our garage isn’t the old furniture or paint tins or garden equipment, it’s foodstuffs. I mean, tins of tuna, packets of pasta, bottles of squash, you get the gist. The reason for this is because our larder is quite small (taken up with food which went past its best before circa the Cheynobyl disaster, nevermind Fukushima) and so it’s migrated into the garage. 

I really wish I hadn’t started to be honest. I mean, in terms of being on the edge of a nervous breakdown, this was second only to the time where my dissertation was due in two weeks, I’d written 40 words and time was so precious I didn’t have time to cook so my entire diet became Tea, Whisky and Custard Cream biscuits. (First for the diss + narrowly avoiding the signs of scurvy = Win)

But seriously, I flicked back the lock and started moving the tins around with all the good intentions in the world, but then the realisation kicked in. WE HAVE ENOUGH TINNED FOOD TO SELL BACK TO LIDL, TESCOS ET AL!

The joy of hindsight says that I wish I’d taken a ‘before’ photo but the below is after I’d got-my-OCD-on and reverted to a four year old girl and “played shop”.

                                             So....Yeah...... I wasn’t using hyperbole in the slightest.

In the picture you may notice...

11 tins of grapefruit

16 tins of pineapple chunks

15 tins of dog food (there’s a reason Molly the Mollusc [she’s a Labrador, not an actual mollusc] is so rotund!

22 tins of tomatoey saucey spaghetti & beans

9 packs of flour (of varying grains and sizes)

And so on....

I appreciate that my dad didn’t grow up with much and whilst rationing was still dictating the habits of the nation, but does it really mean that we should have enough nomz to last a zombie apocalypse? So before the waves of zombies arrive and we all head to the Winchester; just remember that however much food you have in your fridge / garage, that there are 925 million+ undernourished people in the world and you’re probably not one of them so I implore you to give what you can to charitable causes.

Have a good evening everyone. 

xxx

A Picture Speaks A Thousand Words

Evening everyone.

Apologies for the lack of bloggage over the last week. Tiredness, work-stress and apathy have all played a part. To make up for this fact, I thought I'd give you a treat. Instead of using words to describe my week / current life-situation, I thought I'd use the power of art, or rather, memes.

I've given the name of each meme next to it, so that if you're unaware of it, it will hopefully make some sort of sense. The following are thoughts / actions which have happened to me over the last week:

Socially Awkward Penguin

Family Tech Support Guy

Socially Awesome Penguin

Joseph Ducreux

Pissed-ff Obama

F*YeahHappyKitteh

Hipster Kitteh

Philosoraptor

Business Cat

Art Student Owl

Inception Meme

Insanity Wolf

Foul Bachelor Frog

Y U NO...?

Forever Alone

Paranoid Parrot

Advice Dog

If any of this makes any sense to you, we either share the same sense of humour and/or you've spent too much time on the internet. Can't be bothered to write anything pretentious or douche-baggish here. Have a great weekend everyone.

xxx

Ferrari and the Diamonds

Evening Everybody. On Sunday evening I overtook a 2011 Ferrari 430 Scuderia on a dual carriageway. My first reaction was one of “oh yeah!!!!!!” as I went past in my 16 year old BMW....But then, as I looked across to see who the fella was, I saw a lad younger than myself grasping on the wheel for dear life whilst his dad (who’s present I imagine it was) was giving him encouraging yet apprehensive looks/advice/twitches.

 I felt pride for a moment, (“oh yeah!”) for overtaking a car worth 150x the value of mine, but then I felt kinda sorry for the kid. I mean, you’re meant to enjoy presents, money, wealth, fame et cetera. Ultimately they’re meant to open doors and opportunities, not make you worried or nervous about every passing moment...or car. 

“At first I lolled...and then I serious’ed!” Goes the famous internet picture, and so, I in turn serious’ed about the pursuit of personal wealth as opposed to the pursuit of one’s dreams. This residing image, of this scared kid in a Ferrari, a lad who’s monetary dreams had shaped his own emotions to such an extent that he was petrified of his own possessions (albeit temporary ones) was the main factor in me making a critical life decision. I won’t say what in case it all falls apart, but in a life where we all care what people think of us (even if we say we don’t) I’d much rather be a poor postgraduate than be a rich David Brent. Remember kids, someone can steal a Maserati but can never steal a Masters from you. 

I’m not saying don’t achieve to do well in life financially; nobody likes being poor. Just you know, try not to be a dick about it. Otherwise, it’ll bite you in the arse. As this chestnut from www.truelad.com (the steroid-fuelled masculine version of PostSecret) states:

My old man gave me a Porsche Boxster when I passed my driving test (well-to-do LAD). Feel like a bit of a tosser driving it aged 18 but if the old man gives, what's a LAD to do eh? Anyway, within a week I'm at the petrol station filling up when an evidently shitLAD in a 911 Turbo pulls up: Prada sunnies, over-oranged and over-plasticed (but nonetheless 7/10 missus in the passenger seat and all. Revs his engine, calls over: "Mate, when you gonna get a real Porsche"? I screw my petrol cap back on, replace the pump, look over and reply: "Probably when I leave school". WAG pisses herself, I go inside and buy a Ginsters sausage roll and a Ribena. Spoilt onelinerLAD

Alas, this bloggo post isn’t saying much and there’s no real message to it (in this aspect I feel I am now a qualified to write for The Guardian) except whatever you wanna do in life, do it. Don’t be sidetracked by Ferraris or hedge funds cos in the words of our greatest contemporary philosopher, Marina Diamandis: “If you’re not very careful your possessions will possess you, TV taught me how to feel, now real life has no appeal.”

Live the dream. 

x

Haters Gonna Hate. Bankers Gonna Bank.

Evening everyone. Ever wondered why banks are so hated? I mean reeaaaaally hated. Don’t say because of the credit crunch and the global economic crisis; everyone hated the banks before 2007. The reason they’re detested by Mr Joe Public is because they’re out of touch with reality.

The rule of business is to make a profit by generating sales through looking after pre-existing customers and getting new ones. I’m pretty sure the aim of business isn’t to piss-off your loyal customers by not being able to do simple tasks, such as printing a piece of paper.

High street banks are very much like doctor’s surgeries: if you’re there, you’re pretty much f*cked and try and get out of there with the minimum of fuss whilst knowing that both will probably charge you for the privilege of “helping you”. Not only was the pain of queueing excruciating, (not only because I’m impatient, but because there were two members of staff ‘on the tills’ whilst three worked out the profit margins of their stationery or something) but the fact was that I was using my sacred Friday-afternoon off for the privilege of being there. I mean, who doesn’t open on Caturdays? Seriously? Pffft....back to the story, and following the Pakistani man putting two grands worth of ‘legitimiate’ money into his business account, and the retired couple requesting a new cheque book, I finally get to the cashier:

RBS:  “Hello how can I help you today?” (with a wide grin and a patronising tone)

Me: “I’d like to request a statement please, because I need one for work - as proof of residency.”

RBS: “Do you not get them in the post?”

Me: “Yes, I do, but quarterly, and I normally throw them straight out, because they’re not happy reading” (attempting humour...)

RBS: “Oh I’m sorry to hear that.”  (humour not appreciated and/or understood)

Me: “So... can I request another one please?”

RBS: “Well, we can’t process them here I’m afraid. I can get one sent to you and it should arrive in about a week.”

Me: “A week? I need it today, now, that’s why I’ve come in - I may as well have ordered one online. I thought you could help.”

RBS: “Well we don’t have the facilities to print statements I’m afraid”

Me: “Are you joking love? There’s an all in one scanner/copier/printer thingy over there *points to the office-sized one adjacent to the queue I was just standing in*, why can’t you print it on that? 

RBS: “Well...it’s not for that, and I can’t just print it I’m sorry.”

Me: “Crickey Moses! (the three members of staff meerkat’ed to look at me, stopping working out the cashflows of their imaginary paperwork) I pay tax for this tripe? 84% of rubbish is still rubbish. No wonder you had to be bailed out, you can’t afford a flippin network cable or decent service!

RBS: “Sir, I think you should remain calm and I’ll try to help”

Me: “Remain calm, I was never calm to begin with!”

RBS: “I think you should leave sir, and return another time...”

Me: “And I think you should give me my bloody piece of paper and my tax revenue back.”

*Storming exit* (drama hindered by the lack of the door slamming noise.....bloody automatic doors!)

So yeah.... RBS Gloucester branch....you are my nemesis and not a scratch on the high-standards of customer service I experienced in HSBC. If you cannot provide a customer with a piece of paper with his details - you clearly do not deserve to be a leading player in the British or any other national economy. The next day I received a standard email entitled “Mr Edwards, your latest statement is available online.” To which I thought....of course it is. Digital banking is a permanent statement which is always available and always online. F*ckers. 

Sorry everyone for this rant. Just had to get this off my chest.

Comment & spread the bloggo love....or RBS hatred, preferably both.


x

Working With The Colour Beige

Good evening everyone. Ever had one of those days where you don’t know whether to laugh or cry? I mean, you’re so stressed out yet having such playful work ‘bant’ that it seems to pass you by? You know; the stress train that whistles past you on a direct line to crash-town whilst you’re teetering on the platform of employment-based revelry? 

Anyway, even if you don’t, today was one of those days for me. The reason for the heightened levels of angst in the office is because the external auditors are in. You know, the Ofsted inspectors of accountants? Often characterised as the dullest form of beige? As actual human beings, they’re surprisingly sound guys, they’re just sheep wrapped up in.....flannel clothing. No wolves...wolves show their emotions too much...and howl less.

Since last week’s list-based posting seemed to be well-appreciated, I will provide you with another set of free tips, although these are more specific and less useful throughout the ins and outs of daily life. 

Here it goes:

The Five Steps to Surviving an Audit (or any other critique of your work)

1 Pretend to be polite, even if you hate their guts - Nothing says “extra work” for you like a snide comment or guillotining them with a short response. Sometimes the best way to play the game is to ‘yes sir, no sir, three bags full sir’ the referee, even if you do think he’s more of a tool than a Black & Decker EPC18CA cordless power drill.

2 Look busy even if you’re not - Nothing gets you out of work another mountain-load of work than appearing to be intently busy on a current task. Even if its bashing insignificant numbers into a calculator and then audibly going “hmmmm”, it’ll do the trick. Until there’s a guy about to ask you to retrieve a single piece of paper from an immensely large cabinet full of mislabelled lever-arch files, you never realise how incomplete your life is without knowing the square root of BOOBS, I mean 80085. 

3 Don’t lie, just be economical with the truth - As is the philosophy in our department; “accountancy is an art, not a science”. Therefore, be creative with everything: numbers, words, questions et cetera. You could get into some deep philosophical and epistemological cul-de-sac about there being “no absolute facts”, but I wouldn’t (see the first point) as this could give away the fact you’re lying through clenched and gnawing teeth. 

4 Remember to be covert - Pretend your workplace is Colditz Castle and they’re the guards. “Verr are your papers?” you imagine them ask. This will remind you to keep things on the down-low and should hopefully stop you shouting: “Shit, these important *insert business-related acronym*  documents haven’t been filed since 1978!!” Being covert also means remembering that they too have home-times and a lunch break. If you’re wise you can utilise these times to perform your “legitimate business practices.”

5 Remember it’s only for a week - However stressed or uptight you get around your superiors, jurors or Colditzian guards never forget that it’s for a limited period of time. It might be a day, an afternoon conference-call grilling or a week-long inquisition; but it is finite and is shorter than the length of your employment (hopefully). Use the experience to build up your archive of anecdotes or to recall to scare your future children into doing their homework, whatever. Just don’t flip out (he says with beers in hands).

I hope these translate for you who don’t work in accountancy or an office-based environment. If not you’re probably bored or not reading this. For those of you who are, I appreciate it. 

Evening All. 

10 Nuggets on a Post-It Note

Evening tout le monde. As another day becomes inscribed into tomes of the past, I have learnt that lists are an absolute waste of Biro ink and premium Amazonian tree pulp. 

I appreciate they have a useful purpose for reminding you to pack a socket-adaptor in your hand luggage or to buy an extra bottle of wine ‘cos you’re meeting the gf’s parents or whatever, but in terms of daily tasks....stick to keeping it inside ya noggin.

Writing out a ‘to do’ list not only makes you aware of how little free time there is in a day, but when you inevitably fail to achieve these goals it makes you realise that although you’ve been constructive and working hard, you haven’t actually ‘achieved’ anything. In the words of a greater man than myself; ‘you end up filling your day with trivia’.

So, I puzzled myself. Are there any lists people actually stick to, or enjoy making? Having tried to list my Desert Island Discs (picking 8 songs out of 13,313 is hard) last night in an effort to get to (yet simultaneously avoiding) sleep, I will admit that making some lists are indeed fun.

Alas, since Facebook-affiliated media groups have already published all the obvious ones within annoying quizzes such as “which historical dictator are you most likely to babysit for?” , I thought I’d make up a little list just for you avid readers.

The 10 best bits of advice I’ve ever heard/made up:

1 Never apologise for your feelings, because they’re the only things you can truly call your own.

2 Invest in some good headphones - you won’t need to buy new muzak when you can just rediscover all your old favourites.

3 ‘More is lost by indecision, than by wrong decision’ - Carpe Diem, grab life by the balls and do something fantastic with it. 

4 If you’re a man, be a gentleman; if you’re a woman, keep your class - You never know who might be watching or who your actions might impress.

5 When you get angry, remember Sun Tzu’s words - “He who knows when he can fight and when he cannot will be victorious.”

6 Social media sites should never replace real life -  Facebook cannot replicate the hormones and endorphins which you experience when you actually meet up with people.

7 “Be nice to people on your way up because you meet them on your way down.” - Jimmy Durante. Enough said really. 

8 Live within your means -  Basic maths and some self-discipline will save you some stress and the embarrassment of bailiffs knocking on your door. 

9 Never buy a house on a flood plain - I’ve got to thank my dad for this chestnut. But seriously though; DFS sale furniture is worth even less if it’s covered in spring rain and faecal matter.

10 Don’t give up, work hard, enjoy life and for heaven’s sake wear a seatbelt.

That’s about it really. Apologies if it seems obvious or patronising. I just wanted to pass this wisdom onto someone as I don’t currently have children who can moan and humph and look bored whilst I rant. 

 Take care everyone.