Lost Chord #12
Bronski Beat- Smalltown Boy
Robert Wyatt- Sea-Song
Mark Almond- Ruby Red
Topol- If I Were a Rich Man
Morrissey- Every Day Is Like Sunday
Unreliable and possibly off-topic
Bronski Beat- Smalltown Boy
...I am trusting the dole during my transition to workfulness, that all their necessary counterbalanced inter-agency debits and credits are being performed. I receive many mysterious letters in brown envelopes with mysterious sums cited from all sorts of agencies, to be credited or debited from my benefits. How would I know if there'd been a mistake, without current expert knowledge of benefit pathways or double-entry bookkeeping?
The local Tesco Metro has installed self-paying outlets at two of the five checkouts, where one scans and pays electronically for goods. I was right up there learning from the American consultant the first day they were installed. A labour-saving device I thought, disregarding some unsettling reservations about loss of jobs for staff. It's all about a customer's convenience. Luckily for the minimum-waged staff, the self-scan technology cries for human help incredibly regularly, and I've seen the human-manned tills outperform the customer-scans on countless occasions now.
#1: John Otway; Bunsen Burner
When I first started this blog, there was overt politics. At that time I hated both world events and my miserable job, which began to take over my life even as I resisted and resented this. I wasn't functioning in the job because I was obsessed by the horrors of the world. I wasn't doing anything useful about the horrors of the world because my job and my resentment of it took up too much time. I was looking for salvation from partners who were probably looking for the same from me, and hence were unsuccessful. I didn't know where to start, only where to end.
H-etc. arrived back from a whirlwind tour of central Europe on Saturday, and I surprised her by collecting her from the airport. She was laden down with baggage (serving as the pack animal to bring back winter clothes from her son's place), so particularly happy to see me. It was a pleasure to help her out for once, and a relief that Peter Ballocks should calm down now his primary torture victim is back. I told her the Braidburn dogwalkers were asking after her while she's been sailing and inter-railing through Germany, Austria and the Czech Republic, lucky cow. She was shining with the pleasure and pride of travelling with her now-grown son, and how he'd assumed trip-leader role. He is indeed a fine young man, as she frequently reminds us, and has absorbed her core values of hard work, thrift, self-reliance and adventurousness. Peter Ballocks was away finding and losing himself while the laddie was growing up, and has left little imprint. H-etc. and I followed her route on a map as she told of her adventures, and I longed for a similar trip.
Previously was related a tale of how I tried and failed to inform the dole of a change of circumstances a fortnight ago. It was this Wednesday midday that I was on my way to the Jobbie Centre to again report the new jobbie and sort out new benefits, when I chanced to open a recently delivered envelope from the Jobbie Centre. It disclosed that I was booked to see my 'Compliance Officer' that very day, 2 hrs previous, with regard to my claim.
H-who-is-very-good-to-me is in Hamburg, presumably eating hamburgers. This has left Peter Ballocks on his ownio and at a loose end, to my detriment. I have been treated to Korsakoff phone calls at all hours of the day and night this last week. The first call came at 11 pm at work when I was busy, casually asking if I could 'pop over' to feed the cat twice a day for the next week, so Peter could go lambing. I would love to help out H-etc. (for it is her cat), but this is a big ask on top of the shiftwork. I'm not safe to drive after 12+ hr shifts so this would add about 2 hrs in bus journeys to my day. I compromised by offering 4 days of catfeeding duties, but this was no good to him. There were more calls last night at 10 and 11 pm, even as I told him I was trying to sleep, for some other complicated offers. PB has wheedled me into taking Reekie, the most intelligent dog in the world, for the day, but couched in terms that it is he who is doing me a favour. His plan was for the kids and I to spend all day at their house to dogsit, as if we have nothing else to do. However, it looks like it will be another scorcher today and temporary dog ownership gives a great excuse for a walk.
Just pulled off a 13 hr overnighter without turning a hair. The paperwork was annotated and initialled, the protocol implemented with textbook study quality, the tubes labelled and couriered and the FTP transmitted successfully on a second go. The test results that I thought I'd lost last week were retrieved. The test results that were lost today were someone else's fault. I read comfortably reclined overnight, checking study integrity half-hourly to admire my technical skill, snatched a sneaky hour's nap at dawn, and the sky did not fall down. That'll be £162.50, please. I could get used to this.
Happy oestre! The name of the festival echoes from the pagan fertility celebration in springtime. Having been raised a heathen I have trouble remembering if we're supposedly marking Jesus' death or his rising from the dead. Heathen kiddos not much better informed than I. I've recently been re-reading Duncan's 'The Calendar' and Arnold Toynbee's 'Mankind and Mother Earth', reminding me of the tumultuous historical and ecclesiastic schisms over the precise date of Easter. What's stuck in my memory is that all the Christian Easters are calculated specifically not to fall on Passover. We don't want any overlap with those Jews, above all.
Oh dear. I don't know about this jobbie. After the first week I'm exhausted, anxious and slightly loopy. Not able to eat properly. Partly this will be normal when starting a new job, but sleep loss affects me badly, and I've had two short-lived psychotic episodes following this over the years, so am vulnerable.