Mills & Boone, Bunnies and Tails

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It had been a long treacherous drive. The temperature outside hovered around zero whilst snow flakes danced in the orange glow of the street lamp. She’d waited a long time to meet someone who could whisk her off her feet, someone who could make her heart whole. She turned to face him.

He was dark and handsome, small but perfectly formed. He had an air of nonchalance about him which unnerved her. She took a few paces back.

As he stepped towards her he could feel his pulse rise. She was beautiful! Her soft milky body sent shivers down his spine. He sensed she was afraid but reached for her anyway. Something stirred deep down in his soul…. he wanted her!

OK enough with the Mills and Boone – its RABBITS I’m on about here.

The last couple of weeks have been a roller coaster ride of bunny emotions and owner trauma. We’ve had Flopsy almost 8 months now and everything we read suggest that all rabbits should have companionship (preferably another rabbit). We do give her lots of attention but as much as we try, it’s difficult to lick a rabbit’s ear in quite the same way as another rabbit could. So we decided to get her a friend from the RSPCA.

On adoption day, L refused to come along for fear she would be tempted to rescue ALL the stray animals. Actually, I this was a cleverly constructed excuse to avoid being manipulated into adopting a puppy or a kitten at the same time. So, on my own, I stroked several abandoned rabbits in my quest to find Flops a suitable companion. I found RALPH!

The RSPCA are quite strict about adoption. I had to fill out reams of paper work and undergo a home check to ensure we were responsible owners. During the home visit, Flopsy presented herself well giving the inspector a look-at-me-I’m-so-adorable-and-I’m-obviously-well-looked-after pose. So thankfully, we passed the check with flying colours. The whole process took over a week by which time I was oozing with excitement about bringing Ralph home.

Well, we had Ralph for just over a week and I followed all the guidance about introducing them slowly. I had to keep them apart (via a cage) but allow them to be within close proximity so they could get used to the company. The house became a circus, juggling two rabbits to ensure both of them had plenty of run-around time. Flops was noticeably put out by the situation. She normally has the run of the house but during this time, she kept going off in huff, anywhere that was away from the little black furball.

After four days, there were still no signs of friendship- Flopsy scrabbled at Ralph’s cage like a demon possessed and Ralph responded with similar aggression. The rabbit forums assured me “everything would be ok” and to “persist with the process”. I was dubious, but knew it could take several weeks.

One day I left them alone in the kitchen, separated by a six foot wire frame. I’d been gone a couple of hours but on my return I noticed things didn’t look right.

There were piles of fluff everywhere. When I inspected further, it was obvious an aggressive fight had occurred. One or the other had pulled the frame aside to create a hole just big enough for Ralph (quite small) to squeeze through (Flopsy, taking after her owners, is a little on the chunky side so could never make the great escape). Ralph had ventured into Flopsy’s territory and suffered the consequences.

The scene resembled a post apocalyptic pillow fight, yet the two rabbits were in their respective areas looking fairly subdued. So, I set about cleaning up the mess and considered knitting a rabbit fur jumper from the remains. Then, to my horror, I found RALPH’S TAIL!!!! The WHOLE TAIL! RALPH WAS TAILLESS! not a rabbit’s foot, A RABBIT’s TAIL! small and black and fluffy – OH MY GOD! NOOOOOOO

Ralph was rushed to the Vet’s to have the damage assessed – it was nothing short of horrid. His tail had been skinned and all that was left was a bloody stump which had to be amputated.

When I recovered from the news of the amputation, I was bowled over by two more bombshells a) the cost and b) RALPH was a GIRL- the RSPCA made a mistake!!!

No wonder they didn’t get on. Every single piece of advice given to me before adopting our new rabbit included “don’t put two females together”. Poor Ralph/Rosie would had to spend the night at the vets and endure one week of oral antibiotics! Awwww poor little thing – as soon as she was better we took her back to the RSPCA.

Sad story isn’t it, but have no fear everyone… three nights ago, Flopsy, L and I met a Bunny Rescue lady in a car park on the M1 (not by accident, the meeting was arranged). She brought two little boys, Clive and Dooley to meet Flops and under the cover of darkness, we bundled them into the back of her car and let Flopsy decide who she liked best.

Clive it was and since then its been a hassle free introduction. Contrary warnings about females becoming aggressive and territorial, Flops has been more than welcoming. I can just imagine her hopping around the house saying in a posh voice “now this is the living room where you can relax in front of the fire and munch on carrot whilst being groomed – just make yourself at home darling”.

Clive is still settling in and is already litter trained but he has an unfortunate rabbit-lust for Flopsy. I think she was hoping for some gentle head licking and some warm snuggles but the little guy is mad for it! Apparently, according to the forums, he’s just ‘asserting’ himself… For Flopsy’s sake I hope he calms down – she is looking a little harassed and now sits cleverly with her rear end against a wall or other immovable object.

So people, you may not be rabbit lovers or should I say lovers of rabbits…. actually lets just say you might not appreciate rabbits as pets, so I apologise for this post. I must sound like a complete weirdo – probably worse than a dog lover – but I do think there’s a moral to this story somewhere. Let me think… or maybe you could suggest one!

Ciao for now

Geeks and Consumerism

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I’ve been back at University for a week now and we’re already in the thick of a new project. On our first day back we were asked to agree or disagree with a manifesto stating our skills should be used for the greater good i.e. to promote social justice, sustainable development, environmental awareness etc. An interesting project which has lead me to read a couple of books on the conflict designers have with earning a wage and being ethical.

It’s difficult to decide whether you accept a briefcase full of cash to design an advert for Nescafe or turn your back on it because you don’t agree with their ethics. Not that I’ve ever had to make that sort of decision – most of my freelance work has been for small organisations doing good work. But if I did have to make a choice, it would certainly be tough.

In an ideal world I definitely agree with the manifesto but sometimes we need to compromise. As far as I can, I will certainly look to work for organisations with a sustainable outlook and an environmentally conscious foundation… perhaps WWF or Greenpeace?

In a world where we are bombarded with adverts everywhere we go, it is hard to avoid being swept along by consumerism. For instance, since starting university I’ve tried only to buy the bare essentials; food, books, art materials, and petrol (when I don’t get the bus). But last week while I was trying to replace some holey jeans in M&S (note I was not buying a trendy label), I suddenly found myself amongst hoards of women pushing and shoving in an “Everything for £1 SALE”.

I didn’t really need anything but my pulse started to race and I broke out in a sweat thinking “I could buy 10 items of clothes for £10!!!!” I was right in there squeezing past the elbows, and trolleys laden with clothes, getting progressively hotter in the mission to find something a) in my size and b) suitable to wear in public. It was only 9.15am but in the 15 minutes I was there, the crowd grew and grew. The sound of hundreds of hangers scraping against rails must have called out to any woman passing the store – music to their ears. I can’t help being reminded of the Pied Piper and the rats!

There is something truly amazing about women in a sale – red faced and disappearing behind the mountain of clothes over one arm”oooh Tracy I’ve got a whole season’s worth of clothes and I’ve only spent £11″ , “Hey Chloe – I’ve wanted these for ages and LOOK they’re just a POUND!!!” My question is, what sort of initial mark-up must M&S have had to still make a profit selling things for £1?

In all honesty there really wasn’t anything worth buying there. Even in my coffin I wouldn’t be seen wearing some of the garish outfits on offer. I did snag a couple of pairs of trousers, which I’m not sure I’ll ever wear but hey, it only cost me £2!!!! Consumerism at its worst and I won’t dare to discuss the sweatshops… the miles travelled and the fuel consumed… the pollution, the packaging…. just so we can say we’ve got a BARGAIN!

So there you go, now I have to come up with a design that comments on this ! Not an easy one.

I had another age/trend dilemma last Thursday. It was P***ing down with rain so I took out my anorak (quite nice – Berghaus), picked up an umbrella and set off for Uni. You older, wiser folk might say to yourself “she’s a sensible girl”. But not long ago, I asked one of my student friends why he’d rather get soaked than wear a waterproof? His response was “Are you MAD? be seen in Public with an anorak?”. At the time I didn’t respond but made a mental note: Waterproof obviously = Geek.

So on the bus I started to consider whether I should actually wear the waterproof once I was reached the University premises. One more look at the torrential downpour and I decided to suss out the scene on arrival. 20 minutes later, on campus: Lo! Hundreds of students walking in the rain and not a waterproof in sight! The were all soaked to the bone with hoodies pulled over their heads in a vain attempt to keep their hair dry.

For a millisecond I considered taking my coat off then I thought – WHAT AM I DOING!? Its ludicrous to wander around in the rain with no form of protection for the sake of the trend! God is looking down on you, shaking his rain maker and laughing!

DAMN you fashion victims! Embrace your inner GEEK!

To top it off I wore my rucksack with BOTH straps on my shoulders because you know what? It’s much more comfortable when you have a bag full of books and they were designed to be worn that way. So all you students with back problems and lop-sided shoulders… it’s because you let TREND conquer PRACTICALITY!

Anyway, enough said… could someone please tell me whether I’m using the apostrophe in the right place when I write “it’s” or “its”?

One more day

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Berries in Frost
One of several fantastic wire sculptures over looking
Lac Leman (Geneva)

Christmas has passed and I only have one day left in the bosom of my family. We’ve been slothfully but pleasurably inactive over the last couple of weeks. A typical day would be little more than moving from the warmth of our beds to the breakfast table, to the sofa in front of the fire with a good book, back to the table for a hearty lunch, to the sofa for games, tea and nibbles, to the dinner table for leftovers and finally cradling our paunches, to the sofa again to veg in front of a movie (regardless of quality) before retiring to bed. Phew it makes me feel lethargic just writing it.

Ok, we did sprinkle the weeks with a couple of small walks to prevent our joints from seizing up completely… oh and a bout of last minute shopping to spend some vouchers before they expired. But generally, if it wasn’t our table we were munching at or our sofa we were sprawled across, it was someone else’s.

Bro doing an impression of
Mr Napkin head (relevant to anyone who’s
watched Holiday)

Of course, January 2007 will start with a concerted effort to get back into the gym regime that was abandoned somewhere around the time I started university. L and I are aiming to make some changes to our physique in preparation for my Brother’s wedding in May. We have 5 whole months to transform so how hard can it be?? Yes, you’ve heard it all before, but surely THIS time.

I should mention that I’m also a bridesmaid at ‘The’ wedding so unless I want to be remembered as ‘the wobbly one bringing up the rear’, I have to do something!!! All the fondues, mince pies, roast dinners, cold chicken sandwiches, curries, cheeses, chocolates, bottles of wine, biscuits, crepes and ice cream have merrily clung to my waist line in the last 10 days. So hear my war cry “BE GONE OH POISONOUS PLEASURES – no longer shall you seduce my gorged mid rift!”

I was actually supposed to be jetting home yesterday but couldn’t face the return to the UK. The comfortable isolation of this village helps to rest the mind and clease the soul. Plus, L is ‘on nights’ and most of my friends are celebrating New Year with family or on hot, sunny islands. I think I made the decision to change my plans with one hour to spare and was quite relieved that it only cost 6 pounds for the privilege.

I’m glad I stayed. We saw the sun for the first time in a week today! Boy was that a welcome relief! My parents house is not far from Lake Geneva, at the base of the Jura mountains so it’s often shrouded in thick fog during the winter. The last few days have been dull and grey with cold hard frosts but there’s still no sign of snow. This is usually the weekend that most French people set off for their first ski of the season but unless they’re heading for the highest peaks, they’ll be terribly disappointed.

A good view of the mist in the valley

 

Hard Frost

Dad and I did make it to the piste at the invitation of my cousin and his family on holiday in Le Gets. However, the snow was so poor, only one icey, gritty slope was open. I quickly passed up the offer to snowboard for fear my coccyx would not survive.

Anyway, I’ve had a thoroughly enjoyable Christmas and feel a little guilty that L has been working her little socks off at the hospital. Not only is she ‘on nights’ for the New Year but she had her nose to the Grindstone over Christmas too – these doctors EH!

Christmas Cheer

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I’m here in France avec mes parents with only three days to go until Xmas! It has been interesting trying to shop for pressies with a student budget. No matter what your parents say, you can’t turn up empty handed and sit around a bare tree base on Christmas morning.Even if your present is little more than a few hand made cookies or some poorly sewn cushions, the gesture still has to be made. I didn’t do either but I did make an effort.

Unlike some people, I actually enjoy Christmas shopping.I love to take my time sauntering around the shops, eager to see what useless inventions they’re selling as the next MUST HAVE! The first things that spring to mind are tongs for rescuing toast from the toaster without electrocuting yourself. Sorry L, I know they were just a stocking filler but I had to mention them! I’ve survived the last 29 years spearing lost toast with a fork so why would I need tongs now? AH HAA, I get it! Once I hit thirty I’ll start to get frail and uncoordinated so they’ll definitely come in handy!Thanks for thinking of me.

Anyway, this year, shopping was frustrating – my jolly spree was downgraded to trudging around the shops, picking up the gifts I’d like to buy, checking the price tags then replacing them on the shelf! Alas the self heating slippers were not meant for dad this year.

The general feeling of melancholy was exacerbated by the hoards of people pushing and shoving through the stores to get to the novelty gifts like the electric nose hair plucker or the game of chocolate Table Top Twister!I hardly had a moment to commiserate with an interesting gift I couldn’t afford before I was swept helplessly along in the rush.

Where do these crowds come from? Every inch of Nottingham over the last few weeks has been crammed with shoppers. Even getting a cup of coffee is impossible without fighting off a flock of hot, harassed looking ladies with fists full of bags.

I’m sure this frantic last minute shopping frenzy is purely a British phenomenon.I assume this because I’ve just spent the last three hours in a mall (in Switzerland) that was positively dead by comparison.There are only two more shopping days left!In the UK the frenzy would be reaching a crescendo by now.Unlike their British counterparts, the Swiss and the French seemed relaxed and cheery as they float between shops. So, either everything in Switzerland is far too expensive (quite possible) or everyone is terribly organized and finished their shopping two months ago.

Whatever the case my shopping is complete whilst mum is still writing lists and worrying about last minute gifts.My brother arrives tonight – thankfully he didn’t fly as I hear Heathrow is cancelling flights left, right and centre because of the fog… ha hah it sounds like that 1980’s movie…. THE FOG! With the tag line ‘What you can’t see won’t hurt you… it’ll kill you!’

So the year is almost over and 2006 was the last full year as a twenty something! I’m acutely aware that I only have three months left before I need to start applying the Revitalift eye cream, thinking about botox and generally make arrangements for the downward spiral into decrepitude.

Alright! Alright! Calm down boys and girls – I know most of my friends have already made the transition and yes, I know it’s not that bad! So why does society make us believe that the big three ‘o’ should sound more like the BIG THREE OOOOOHHHH!!? By now, according to the rules of society, I should have a career, a house, a marriage and possibly children on the way. Well I can certainly tick off one of those things, namely the house!

The marriage?Hmm…after seven and half years my relationship certainly feels like a marriage. And as for the career, well you already know that the last one went out with the 2006 trash and now I’m scouring the shelves for a brand spanking new one! The course, I might add, is going well.I had a rather hectic last few days when four projects and an essay had to be handed in but surprisingly, this time round, meeting deadlines and writing essays has been sans hair loss, palpitations and general paralysis.

Hang on, where was I… ah yes Children. Well that would be great but for the moment, without a career, and therefore the income and because the next two years are dedicated to student life, they’ll have to wait. Anyway, I don’t need to worry about kids until I’m approaching my 35th birthday (the point at which your reproductive organs start to falter – delicately pointed out by L) and I’m not prepared to contemplate that yet.

Anyway I think I have ranted enough. I’m not actually this bad in real life… or am I? Well, I hope it won’t be so long until the next instalment but just in case, Merry Christmas everyone and have a Happy NEW YEAR!

hangin’ out wiv da kids!!

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Last night was the graphic desgin party in town. It took me a good chunk of the day to decide whether I was going to go. I was bombarded with horribly adult dilemmas such as, can I really have a night out on a weekday; I need at least 8 hours sleep so I can function properly in the morning; I should be saving my money and gosh ‘Town’ seems horribly far away (15mins by bus)’.

L convinced me that it was a good way to get to know my peers so I set about putting my glad rags on. It didn’t take long to reach the ‘OH MY GOD’ I have nothing to wear’ crisis mode. How can we have three cupboards full of clothes and NOTHING to wear??!

A full hour of stomping around the house huffing and puffing because nothing in the cupboards says ‘hey, I’m a designer, I’m cool and I fit in with the crowd even though I’m 11 years older than most of you and officially the granny of the class’! … Can clothes actually say all that?… I’m sure they can but unfortunately the most my clothes can muster is a feeble ‘help! I’m a fashion disaster’. Even the temporary blue hair dye, which a week ago had been my half hearted attempt to look slightly less ordinary was starting to fade into a lovely snot green. It was the proverbial icing on my very own burnt cake!

Several pairs of trousers and 20 tops later I resigned myself to jeans and a nondescript top – woo hoo!

It was L who drove me to the venue wearing pyjamas ‘because they’re comfortable, I can’t be bothered to change and I’m not getting out of the car’. We argued most of the way because I ruined her evening by making her drive into town, get diverted as far away from said bar as possible (via the one way system) and hit every red light on the way. I despair! Every Day we are a little closer to becoming the couple from One Foot in the Grave with L taking on the roll of Victor Meldrew.

Then I spent the first 30mins in the trendy bar on my own, trying to look like I wasn’t alone, friendless and unfashionably early… (I’m learning). Needless to say, it eventually turned into a fun evening… I now have a sore throat from shouting over the loud musica nd my ears are still ringing. Tell me, how can one have a good, hearty conversation and get to know people with such LOUD music???!

It is 10:48am, I have a horrendous hangover – the first in a long, long time and I’ve only had 6hrs sleep … But it was worth it and now I know a handful of the design student clones. I say clones, because many of the boys have the same quirky, spiked hairdos with a scarf tied jauntily around their necks and the retro golfing jumper… yes, I did say golfing jumper. Don’t you know they are IN?

I will now commit to memory via this blog, that I have met Nick, Phil, Graham, Tim, Steve, Paul, Lee, Will and a girl called Amy! Not bad recall for someone with a pounding head, ringing ears, a swimming stomach and bleary eyes! The joys of student life.

It’s been a while

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Gosh! time seems to move on quite swiftly – since I’ve left work I haven’t had a moment to sit down and write any blogs… well I wrote this one on the 12th but didn’t get round to posting it until now. So here you go…

Its raining hard today…On wet days it always makes me smile at the umbrella acrobatics and duels that take place in the crowded streets.A friend once said to me “save space, get rid of umbrellas” and she’d be right.On rainy days, on a busy pavement, there isn’t enough room for everyone AND their umbrella. The speed at which reach destination is greatly reduced on wet days because you have to go into battle with those giant, eye poking, block-out-the-light, space guzzling golf brollies.It should be compulsory for golf brollie owners to share some of the space in a similar fashion to car sharing. It would certainly save a few eyes, and make way for smaller less intrusive umbrellas.

It’s great fun to watch the brollie battles as two on coming people realise there isn’t enough room to brush past each other so they do a little jig raising their umbrella high above their head or tilting it to one side.Of course, the ‘side tilt’ is a dangerous manoeuvre as you can easily become entangled with another unsuspecting brollie carrier or worse, gouge a hole in the head a person who’s forgotten their umbrella at home.

Some people have the most folorn looking umbrellas you’ve ever seen, with bent or broken struts that hang down at a jaunty angle, funnelling torrents torrents of water on to the owner’s shoulder or more likely, the shoulder of someone else. And then there people who use the teeny, tiny umbrellas that just about keep the top of your head dry.What is the point of those?? (my friend, the one who doesn’t agree with umbrellas, has one of these) One’s toupee might stay dry but the other 98% of the body is soaked down to the bone! If you are thinking of buying one of these, let me give you some advice – save your coins and by a shower cap, it works just as well.

Did you know that the umbrella was originally designed to shade people from the sun over 4000 years ago! And the word ‘umbrella’ comes from the Latin word ‘umbra’ meaning shade or shadow… now how’s that for a bit of trivia?!

So I suppose I should briefly mention that its my first week at Uni and it’s running relatively smoothly – Freshers week was last week but I avoided the traffic light parties, the excessive drinking and all related activities.I did make and effort to go to the Freshers Fayre to see what free goodies were to be had and came home with a ton of useless flyers, a spatula, a teaspoon and a small pouch to put your old chewed gum in instead of spitting it onto the side walk. I thought this was an amazing piece of ingenuity but I’ll leave that subject for another time.

I have also discovered why most mature students sit at the front.This is something I used to ridicule when I was a student (the first time round). But now I know…we mature students WANT to hear what’s being said.Unlike the kids, who spend all their time gossiping about who fancies who and how hung over they are, we actually want to pay attention.In my first lecture,I had to steel myself from giving them a stern telling offFrom now on, I’ll sit near the front.There’s not much else to report as we are easing into things pretty slowly.Our first project is based on mapping and I’ve just spent the last hour highlighting bits chewing gum on the pavement….

Ladies with Bifocals and Cows with Bells

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I’ve just spent a week in France with the parentals! It was a fairly relaxing week… I guess helping mum to decide on what colour to paint the new bathroom and tromping around every bathroom store known to the French and Swiss people (they live near Geneva) for a suitable mirror is somewhat more relaxing than thinking about my own household issues!

I took part in the obligatory “meet my mum’s friends parade” – members of the United Nations Women’s Guild no less – which is always something I detest in theory but in practice it is never as bad. I brace myself for the introduction; practice my smile, my handshake and my most charming “it’s a pleasure to meet you”. I’m then likely to be lavished with kisses, two if it’s a French friend or three if it’s a Swiss friend, and plenty of ‘OH its wonderful to finally meet you, I’ve heard so much about you’. .. to which my response is “oooh I do hope its ALL good ha ha ha”

On this particular occasion I met two lovely ladies who managed to coerce me into attending the weekly UNWG hiking group which my mother runs. “It would be lovely to have you along, it’s an easy 3 hour hike this week, hurrah”

Well, the UNWG is primarily made up of over 60’s with a handful of ladies who are on the approach. It was insightful to say the least – adorned with bifocals, large print maps, walking sticks, first aid kits, medicines for cramp and most importantly a variety of edible goodies (for energy) we set off up a mountain. It was slow, steady progress…plenty of stops to catch your breath or to wait for the less energetic members of the group to catch up. Stop for a banana break here, a dried fruit break there, stop to search for a pair of lost glasses, someone quips ‘are we going the right way?’, stop to consider the direction. We double back on ourselves, “where’s so and so?”, stop to wait for her to catch up… it goes on and 3 hours turns into 6!

The walk was pretty tough and the descent in my mind was particularly treacherous. At half their age, I was struggling with sore knees, unsuitable footwear and keeping upright. I couldn’t bear to watch as some ladies teetered dangerously close to the edge of a steep drop. Every time I heard the sound of sliding gravel under foot I half expected to have my feet whipped out from under me in a ball of bifocals, rucksacks and dried fruit, then plunge to my death. But thankfully there were only a few wet bottoms and no major incidents. Unfortunately, the weather was pretty grim with heavy mist and drizzle so I can’t regale you with stories of awe inspiring vistas.

Nevertheless, it was an interesting insight into my mum’s generation! There was lots of raucous laughter (which hindered the wildlife spotting) and plenty of debate about how girls these days wore G-strings, memory loss, which part of the body is malfunctioning and whether it was good or bad to be offered a seat on the bus. My interpretation of the offer or don’t offer scenario is:

If a lady is in a good mood its bad – “how dare someone assume I’m not young enough or healthy enough to stand on my own two feet”. BUT, if a lady is carrying lots of heavy bags, feeling tired and grouchy then a nice, pre warmed seat is welcomed.

The week was good fun and was rounded off with a visit from L who was suffering from a raging cold and had just finished a week nights at the hospital. On arrival, hardly two words were exchanged before she slinked off for a cat nap and some well deserved rest.

The next morning we were up early to engage in all things Swiss. Des Alpes is an annual festival where the cows are herded down from the mountains for the winter but not before they are made to look utterly ridiculous. Christmas trees covered in paper flowers are tied to their heads and huge bells slung around their necks before they are paraded down the streets crammed with spectators. There are mountain dogs pulling milk floats, alp horns, yoddlers and St. Bernards carrying barrels of whisky around their neck – it’s a bizarre site and this photo doesn’t do it justice:

Sadism or earning your cookie?

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So this is it… not sure what I was expecting but I don’t really have any strong feelings about my last day! When I left my previous job, I was a bit choked up. I knew I’d miss my friends, the gossip sessions, the fun and the drawing competitions (obviously not the work) but here, I’ve met a couple of nice people but there isn’t really anyone who’d make it on my ‘top-ten-to-invite-to-dinner’ list or even my ‘how’s-about-a-coffee-over-lunch’ list… ok maybe one or two at most.

Yesterday, I got collared for a farewell presentation. I really didn’t see it coming so was fairly shocked when the entire open plan office gathered around to watch me squirm in hot embarrassment. If you know me, you probably know that on occasion, I quite like basking in the limelight but only when I expect it!

In my last job I’d anticipated a gathering having seen fellow ‘jumpers’ (i.e. people who jump ship, not the woollen things) subjected to various forms of farewell torture including bad poetry, songs and speeches which barely reflect the employee or the work they did.

It seems such a strange ritual to me, why do hoards of people gather to bid you farewell when you’ve never exchanged more than a ‘good morning’ or an ‘excuse me’ in the elevator? I suppose having been on the otherside, there’s some sadistic enjoyment to be had from anticipating how uncomfortable one can get when the cry of ‘SPEECH’ is thrown to the departee then thanking your luck stars you’re not in their shoes. Either that or by participating, you can feel comfortable in the knowledge that you’ve earned an iced doughnut or choc chip cookie from the table of farewell goodies that the leaver is obliged to buy for everyone.

Oh I’m sooo cynical! How is it I’ve managed to become a grumpy old woman 30years before my time!

But back to my goodbye gathering – they were lucky to corner me at all because just moments before I had been marching towards the door. One of my colleagues practically rugby tackled me to the floor on the pretence that my manager needed to have a word!

I don’t remember much about the speech except the odd ‘thank you’ about my recycling efforts and some sarcastic comment about my mathematical abilities (or lack of)! You’ll be excited to hear the office collection was spent on an ant farm, a marble frog paper weight, some paint-your-own ginger bread men and £20! …hmm an interesting array of gifts… They obviously took no notice of my plea for a golden light switch engraved with ‘Turn it Off’ . Ah well, this weekend, I’ll be off hunting for a queen ant to kick start my ant farm!!

Last Monday Morning (this is a grumble)

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It’s my final Monday Morning as a full time environmentalist! I should be joyous but nothing is different today and I’ve just had the usual Monday morning rant about the utter the lack of response from our Estates and Resources team to get some recycling issue sorted out. My blood pressure is raised, and I have an incredible urge to throw something or crush someone’s head under a big rock

My anger is partly fuelled by the fact that I gave the University an extra 2 weeks notice in my resignation letter hoping they’d use the time wisely and replace me as quickly as possible. My direct line management signed off the job description/person specs etc within the first two weeks and since then, the paperwork has been sitting on the desk of some puffed up, power hungry, tie-too-tight, lazy, S.O.B member of management. 6 WEEKS they’ve had to advertise this, SIX WHOLE WEEKS!!! and nothing! no movement! Zip, Zero, Zilch!

The culprit is the very same guy who said “this institution needs to keep the momentum going -it is an important time for the environment”. My suspicion is that he’ll put it off for as long as possible so he can hang on to some extra cash. It took them FOUR YEARS to replace the last environmental officer with me!

In the meantime, all the projects I’ve been working on will be put on hold, no-one will care, no-one will chase them up and I am SOOOOOOO MAD!!!!!!! I shouldn’t care but I do – it’s all been a complete waste of time and I have a good mind to tell them what I think. They are all IDIOTS and the planet will never change because of people like them! As you can imagine THIS is one of the main reasons for leaving it all behind…the feet-draggers! The environment is never a top priority… there is always something more important to sort out…

Since my rant I’ve been pondering one thing. When I’m a student again, will I still get Monday Morning Blues?