humour

While I was waiting for inspiration… Starting Over

/ Dee / 4 Comments

Back Camera

Sitting in front of a blank screen is quite daunting when you have things you want to say and are not quite sure where to start. It is relatively easy to follow prompts for weekly challenges on travel themes or photography but quite another matter when you are attempting a writing prompt and waiting for inspiration. I envy the seemingly free-flowing blog posts of others, they seem confident and assured whereas I seem to flounder about for ages, shall I post this, and will anyone read it? And so it goes, more or less.

I should really be working, I have a lot to get through today but my heart isn’t in it. I can only get excited about so much paperwork and having checked on the latest accounts – fine, the amount of stock we are holding – also fine, the remainder of my “To Do” list can wait a while.

I was reading recently about a writer who knew she wanted to be a writer from the age of seven. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do right up to leaving college; I envied friends who went into banking, accounting, nursing with a natural transition. I wrote letters, sent CV’s and though I got a few interviews none of the jobs was ever going to set my pulses racing. I waited for the thunderbolt that never came and in the end I went to work for my father who had his own business developing new plastic products for the automotive and leisure industries. We made oil seals and spoons in seemingly equal numbers; the production was interrupted occasionally by something different, but this didn’t happen very often.

I learned a lot of new words like, extrusion, purging, polytetrafluoroethylene, polymers, petrochemicals, which made my new found typing job quite difficult – you must understand that this was in the days of the typewriter and if you wanted more than one copy, you used pieces of carbon paper, one mistake and you had to do the whole thing again! I quickly moved on to marketing.

As my father’s daughter, I had to work harder to gain any promotion; I had started on the bottom rung when I first joined him, making the tea for everyone, even cleaning the toilets and rest areas, running errands, filing and general office work. He wasn’t going to let anyone say I got where I was because he was my father. Although I wasn’t too happy, I understood his thinking and just got on with it. The upside was that the other employees accepted me more readily when they saw there was no favouritism.

I worked for him for about five years, until he employed “The Office Manager from Hell”. I shall call him Nerd because that’s what he looked like, a Nerd. He made my life a misery because he could, and because he knew in his own twisted way that I wouldn’t complain as that would mean raising the “favouritism” flag.

I tried to like him, tried to overlook that plain fact that I could do his job with not much effort, as I had incorporated much of the role into my job before he arrived. He was thin and weedy and I liked my men tall and strong looking, but I tried to overlook his physical failings and concentrate on being a good colleague. The final straw was when the money in the petty cash tin in the safe didn’t balance; he sighed and asked me why there was money missing. There wasn’t, he had just added it up incorrectly. He held out his hand like Moses receiving the Ten Commandments and asked me for the keys to the safe.

I left amid much family argument.

The only downside to working for my father was our ability to carry on work related issues over dinner, much to my mother’s annoyance. This stopped quite abruptly when I left as my father didn’t speak to me for a while. He said later that had I told him about my treatment by the Nerd, he would have stepped in and done something about it, but the Nerd was the son of the bank manger…

My next job was working as head cashier in a supermarket, but more of that another time.

Vacation in Las Vegas & electing a President

/ Dee / 2 Comments

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This is the view from the window of our hotel in Las Vegas. We were here last 25 years ago, my husband had heard so much about the changes that had taken place during that time that he has spent ages planning a return trip.

Well, the city has certainly changed and grown since we saw it last, but apart from the dazzling lights and razzmatazz of The Strip there’s a lot of buzz here about the forthcoming election.

The buzz we have got has mostly been from taxi drivers who are very keen to tell us how they feel.

One summed up what most of them had told us, “the politicians all shaft the working man, so best vote for the one who will shaft us the least.” (He said his vote was for Obama).

I laughed with him at what he told us, but reflected that I could have been talking with a taxi driver back home, or anywhere else in the world for that matter. The sentiment would have been the same.

I will watch the results with interest and be thinking of Joe the taxi driver, he will be working but listening to his radio.

My grandmother would be laughing too

/ Dee / 8 Comments

One day last week, I was buying quite a lot of bedding in a well know department store; as I walked toward the cash desk I was accosted by a slim young girl, wearing a large smile and brandishing a clipboard. She produced a card advertising a 10% reduction on purchases in return for signing up for a store card. The offer was only valid for a short time and she felt sure I would want to take advantage of it.

I usually smile sweetly and politely refuse such offers, I have had enough plastic in my purse and wallet over the years to make something really useful; but for some unfathomable reason I found myself sitting down with her to discuss the agreement for the card.

She took me through the form, asking for my name and address, pretty standard stuff, then asked for my bank details to check if I was credit worthy, and for a utility bill to check I lived where I said I did.  A utility bill is not something I expect most people would carry with them when they go shopping I told her, and in any case, I never have any utility bills in my name.  This caused her some concern as the form had to be fully completed or it wouldn’t be processed and I would not get my store card.

I actually felt relieved and said we would forget the card but thanked her for the thought.  I got up and went toward the cash desk.  The young woman followed me saying that she was sure she could get “them” to forget about the utility bill and as long as she completed the rest of the form, we would be good to go.

She asked me a couple more routine questions and then, against a backdrop of people patiently waiting to pay for their purchases, she asked me my age.  I stared at her, deciding whether to be rude or just walk away.  I mean, what sort of question is that to be asked when you’re out buying some new sheets and a couple of duvet covers.

I had a sudden flashback to a day out with my grandmother. I think I was seven years old or so and we had gone to the office my grandfather’s employer.  He worked on boats, and was often away delivering one boat to new moorings or bringing another one back to the boatyard. At these times it was arranged that my grandmother would collect his wages.

The man at the desk was not the one who was usually there, he was someone my grandmother didn’t know and he asked her lots of questions. She was uncomfortable with this and I remember her voice rising as she tried to deal with him.  Eventually, after exhausting his long list, the man asked her how old she was – ‘just for the record.’  I remember the intake of breath as she tightened her grip on my hand; she squared her shoulders and said to the little man behind the desk “Not that it has anything to do with you, but I am as old as my tongue and a little older than my teeth” and taking the wage packet off the desk, she dragged me out of the office.

I looked at the glossy young woman with her nice smile and shiny clipboard and said “Not that it has anything to do with you, but I’m as old as my tongue and a little older than my teeth”

I could hear a few people laughing behind me and knew my grandmother would be laughing too.

Some words for the driver of the red car……

/ Dee / 4 Comments

Judging by the registration plate your car is very new

It is your pride and joy I guess, and means a lot to you

It probably is the highest spec and has gadgets galore

Yet you drive it like an idiot, I’ve seen your type before

You swerved along the carriageway, passing all in sight             

Oblivious of other drivers, ignoring traffic lights

You overtook a lorry, the driver not at all impressed

When you pulled in right in front of him causing some distress

My car has daytime running lights they are on all the time

That makes me highly visible, there’s nowhere for me to hide

Yet you seemed not to notice that I was on the road at all

When you swerved right in front of me and stopped to take a call

In my mirror I could see you on your phone having a chat

I thought of stopping off to have a word, but decided against that

When I calmed down it became quite clear just what was wrong with you

And  lots of others on the road suffer from this too

Although your cars are built for speed, making  you feel liberated

The one thing they forget to fit are the ****** indicators

Yes, I’m a woman

/ Dee / 2 Comments

Yes, I’m a woman.

I push doors that clearly say PULL.

I laugh harder when I try to explain why I’m laughing

I walk into a room and forget why I was there.

I count on my fingers in math.

I hide the pain from my loved ones

I say it is a long story, when it really isn’t, just to get out of having to tell it.

I cry a lot more than you think I do.

I care about people who don’t care about me.

I cry at sad movies, but will watch them again and again

I listen to you, even when you don’t listen to me.

And a hug will always help

Don’t know who wrote this, but I like it
I also like this sunflower; it is one of three that were in the bunch of flowers I bought in the market on Saturday
I love the yellow colour, so uplifting and happy, makes me smile
I like odd numbers too

Happy Father’s Day dad………still miss you x

/ Dee / 12 Comments

Its’ funny how for years you check out the latest cards for Father’s Day, looking for THE one; the one that says all you want to say and sometimes never do, the one that you know instantly will make him laugh and then suddenly out of the blue there is no longer any need for Father’s Day cards.  My father died 23 years ago and, though time is a great healer I still miss him just as much today.

I miss his laugh, the freckles on his arms and fingers, his voice when he sang old songs from the movies, his belief that you made your own way in the world without help or favour, his strong work ethic and the fact that no-one owed him a living. He didn’t suffer fools and could be impatient if he thought someone was wasting his time, but he was incredibly kind to those less fortunate than he and very generous to his friends and family. He had a great sense of humour and sometimes when repeating an especially funny joke would start laughing at the punchline before he got to it, so we would all end up laughing at him and missing the joke completely.

I remember walking with him to a cinema when I was very young to see John Wayne in “The Alamo” – I didn’t understand much of what was happening, but got the message that John Wayne was the one as far as my father was concerned!

He set up his own business and I watched him at work first hand as I joined the company when I left college. I started at the bottom, making tea and running to the shop for sandwiches and cakes for break times. I worked alongside his secretary, a woman whose idea of filling in what spare time I had on a Friday afternoon, was translating Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde from Pitmans shorthand!  But I learned a lot from her and others, as he had intended I should.

He taught me to drive and never had any doubts that I would pass first time and was enormously proud when I did. He drove fast, as I tend to do and often on long journeys on my own I sense that he is there, driving the long miles with me. He had a great love of nature and loved the Yorkshire Dales and the Lake District in particular, which is where he used to cycle as a boy and later, as a young man with the local Cycling Club. From his days in the RAF where he was a despatch rider, came his love of motor bikes.  He bought one when he was 50 and could now easily afford the one he really wanted and much to the despair of my mother, he rode it regularly through the hills and valleys like some latter day boy racer!!

He fell off a few times and after one particularly nasty accident, the bike was sold.  My mother had put her foot well and truly down!

He loved old cars and when he retired was always tinkering around with some new project.  It was one of his projects that shortened his life. He had bought an old Alvis which had been found in an old farm outbuilding and brought it back home lashed to the back of a trailer.  Then the trailer started to run back down the driveway, he jumped on it like some Burt Lancaster stunt double and swung hard on the brake to make the trailer miss a neighbour’s brand new BMW parked across the road.  I don’t think his heart ever recovered from the strain.

So Happy Father’s Day dad, wherever you are. Thank you for all the things you taught me, some I never knew that I had learned; thank you for all the fun and  laughter and a few tears too, but most of all thank you for always being there when I needed those strong arms and a big hug; thank you for being my father.

Some thoughts on retirement

/ Dee / 1 Comment

I still enjoy working and had not thought about retiring and what that could mean, until just recently. My husband took early retirement three years ago without a backward glance, or any real thought as to how he would fill his time once he was no longer at the beck and call of the alarm clock! During the past year the discussions (arguments really) as to when I think I will retire have increased; although I am not ready to give up my job just yet, I have been giving it some thought.
According to many reports in the press, there are more people over sixty now than ever before and coupled with this is the recognised fall in the birth rate – think about the reports from China where the burden on the work force of looking after elderly relatives appears to be a real problem. So if all the babyboomers, of which I am one, who were born in the years immediately after the end of World War Two and are now coming up to the usual age for retirement actually do so, there is going to be a big hole in the workforce.
We are better educated than our parents and certainly live a more healthy lifestyle in most cases, which is borne out by the fact that we are living a lot longer, so what are we all going to do with our time? What happens to all the experience we have accquired during our working lives? Why should be have to retire at a set time? Why can’t we ease into retirement in a more gradual way if we wanted to by say, cutting down the number of days we work, then the hours etc etc. There are not enough of the younger generation coming along to take our place as the days of couples have lots of children have long gone. Perhaps it is time governments took a look at the present legislation and woke up to the fact that unless they alter the retirement age there are going to be huge problems for the economy in the very near future. Some companies have already realised the advantages of bringing older people back into the workforce and this seems to bring benefits to both sides, perhaps others will start to follow this lead. As for me, well, the jury is still out………….