The new diversion: Second Life

Dear neglected Blog Friends,

I've been off reading books again - this time for my own pleasure, not for study, trying to get my next 'project' off the ground: The Book. Slow progress, to say the least. And I've also discovered two new possibilities for spending hours on the web - one is Youtube and the other is Second Life: www.secondlife.com. I've been roaming round in there with a 2 metre tall avatar that changed sex after some geek tried to manhandle me on a street in Second LIfe Amsterdam. (Thought it might put him off - in fact, I escaped from his clutches by switching to flying mode and just whisking my avatar away). I'm now considering deleting my avatar and getting a new one - just for the hell of it, you know. And am thinking of the possibilities: like holding my big 5-zero birthday party on a private island in Second Life. Just think of the carbon emissions you'd save - all those friends from distant places could come to the party without even taking a flight.....


I will be back here though. It will probably not be till next weekend now. I meant to tell you all about my holiday on a small Caribbean island but my inspiration seems to have failed me - must be saying something. (It was a nice holiday but there's not so very much you can say about it really....)

Anyways, hope you're all doing fine. Sorry to have been so incommunicado. I do MISS YOU!

jj

Back home

I'm back from under my palm tree. Had a great time. Little bit brown, lots of mosquito bites. Feeling v. tired and jet-lagged write now. Speak in a couple of days...

.

Last paper sent off today!

Out of Blog Reply

Out of Blog....

Doodle - from a Beautiful Revolution

Dig this doodle from 'A Beautiful Revolution', Copyright Andre Jordan 2004 - 2006 (click on doodle - or on the first blog in the list top right - to go through to his blog). I have happier memories about my parents' home but I do know what he means!

I discovered YouTube....

Only because google bought it... It's totally new to me. Oh my goodness, what a great way to avoid finishing that paper....
This was the second film I watched:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jtzdxseO-gs

STOP PRESS!

I BOUGHT A SKIRT TODAY.

Red Admiral

Beautiful butterfly. Time to go and get on with that last paper that I'm putting off writing....

For some unknown reason...

I felt the urge at breakfast time this morning to see what the RED logo would look like in blue:

(Blog) Red: http://joinred.blogspot.com/
The (Red) Manifesto: http://www.joinred.com/

RED and ONE

Today I discovered the RED and ONE sites. All about beating poverty and helping AIDS victims in Africa. Seems like a very good idea. How come I've only just found them now? Well, my start page is Apple and they've just released a RED ipod...

http://joinred.blogspot.com/
http://www.one.org/

Like my floor?

It used to be a Roman floor in the former capital of Britannia: Colchester. (It was this city in south-east England that Queen Bodicca - better known as Bodicea - raised to the ground after some a Roman soldier manhandled one of her daughters. Her army burned Colchester, St Albans and, I think, London too. Talk about a woman's wrath. I can imagine a little bit how she must have felt... Thirty thousand people died in the fires. Bloody hell....)

Anyway, it's a nice Roman floor, retouched in i-photo.

I liked it so much, I did another version:

Fuzzy dancer

The photo's out of focus but I still rather like it. This is a dancer or acrobat who twirled and twined herself around two blue curtains hanging above a little podium at the conference I was at last week. She was rather good. In case you can't make it out, in this pic, she's upside down - the shiny bits at the top are her bottom!
Her performance was simple but exciting. Just what was needed to give a festive air to the occasion - and fill a little time before the first course came round. There were 1100 people in the room waiting for dinner while she did this!

Blue leaf

Is it my imagination...

Or does this blog look exceptionally boring now?

Waiting for the fire and brimestone...

I was expecting something else from Al G--- this afternoon. Somehow, I thought he'd turn up with his climate change slides and put the fear of g... into us all, as he's done so many times before in other venues. But today, apart from one crescendo at the end where he stoked up the fire, he gave out little more than a faint wisp of smoke. Instead of a fiery speech on climate change - which, give him his due credit, he's successfully brought to the attention of many of the world's influential businsessmen - he gave us just a decent, sometimes humorous, pretty run of the mill performance, I thought.

I haven't found anyone who shares that view...

The press loved it and so did my colleagues but I - no kidding - found myself falling asleep during it. (To be fair, I seem to be pretty tired out right now; maybe I hadn't realised it).

I'm just left with a feeling of anti-climax and a wish that I could see him when he's doing one of his REAL talks.

And, boy, does that man have an ego... Perhaps just as well if it means he carries on pushing the issue of climate change.

CustomiSe, not Customize

Not only have a wrecked my lovely blog by pressing 'Update template', I have to put up with having the word 'Customise' spelled wrong in the top bar.

I think that's the final affront.

Hazard warning: 'Update template'

I pressed ' Update Template' and my whole list of links has gone. My blog universe has collapsed. I can't remember my access code to the the Blogroll so don't know how I'm going to find my way back to you guys.

Hey, if you call by, leave your url please!

P.S. I prefer my old template too....

Boiling mud and melting ice caps...

Today, I'm going to cycle downtown to listen to ex US Vice-President Al Gore give his gloom and doom, thunder and lightning, boiling mud and melting ice caps talk on climate change. And from tonight onwards, we'll be able to watch his film at a cinema near us.

Have any of you seen it yet?

I forgot my blog...

Where was I? I've been in Cambridge on the last module of the course that will be my last bit of formal education. (Why do I have the feeling I'll have to eat those words? No, NO, I'm never doing another of these....) Actually, it wasn't too bad. Our group project came together like a dream. It was truly amazing. I HAD spent one whole weekend and about four evenings doing a splendid editing job - which no-one thanked me for (I'll take that as a sign that I did it so well no-one noticed!) - but even so, we really got our act together, finished the paper and handed it in. So now I'm on the home run, just a couple of thousand words to write and most of them are already on the page....

And somewhere in the middle of all this I've rediscovered a subject that's interested me on and off all my life - about a military figure, funnily enough, though the military bit doesn't grab my attention much - and I've been taken over by this incredible urge to research every last corner of his life and write a book on it by 2009. The story that's unfolding is quite breathtaking. And the astonishing thing is that it comes at me like scenes out of a film. I'm someone who watches very little TV - except for the news - and only occasionally goes to the cinema.

So you're right, I've been off on a trip, enjoying myself - surfing the internet an ordering dusty old books that are now carefully stashed away on the right-hand side of my desk, still cushioned in bubble wrapping and with the cardboard box resealed around them. I keep taking them out and reading a bit more, then putting them back. These two volumes date from 1822. At Cambridge, I spent a day in the library, with my nose in even dustier books containing copies of handwritten letters from 1790 onwards from the brother of my 'hero'. Those letters alone would make a book but I found out from google that somebody's already written that one.

All very intriguing, even a little scary to see how quickly you can be taken over by a story that's ten times bigger than yourself. Who would have thought that this is what would emerge from all that sweating over the university work? Wish me luck. When things get too big, I have a tendency to drop them. But, having said that, this one just keeps coming back and presenting itself again.

Now you know why I forgot - really forgot - about dear ol' Picc. Think it's time to stick the 'P' back and make it feel like home again.

An idea from Scott.... from Ric.....

I read this on Acting Up (see links below right):

1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123
3. Find the fifth sentence
4. Post the text of the next 3 sentences on your blog along with these instructions

Well, here goes, Scott:

"To such bondage for the human mind and imagination I prefer even our avowed slavery. However that may be, the horrible condition which puts one man at the mercy of another ought to be carefully regulated by law. I saw to it that a slave should no longer be anonymous merchandise sold without regard for the family ties which he has formed, or a contemptible object whom a judge submits to torture before taking his testimony, instead of accepting it upon oath."

From 'Memoirs of Hadrian' by Marguerite Yourcenar (1955) London and Southampton: Secker and Warburg.

Actually, the sentences immediately preceding those three are perhaps even more interesting:

"I doubt if all the philosophy in the world can suceed in suppressing slavery; it will, at most, change the name. I can well imagine forms of servitude worse than our own, because more insidious, whether they transform men into stupid, complacent machines, who believe themselves free just when they are most subjugated, or whether to the exclusion of leisure and pleasures essential to man they develop a passion for work as violent as the passion for war among barbarous races." Hmm.

The 'Memoirs of Hadrian', is a work of fiction - though based on historical fact - supposedly narrated by the Emperor Hadrian himself. It's one of Bud's (many) dusty old books and was the nearest book to hand on the right side of my desk.

And now, if you're not Scott (or Ric), it's your turn....

Back again

I'm back. Had a great holiday - just far too short! But it did me a world of good. Complete rejuvenation job, in fact. Not what you might expect for a trip to the North of England. But it's so beautiful up there in Northumberland, around Hadrian's Wall (the wall that the Roman Emperor Hadrian had built to keep those troublesome Picts out of his empire) and in the Lake District. We saw some rain, of course, but managed not to get wet (we were always in the car or in a supermarket during the worst downpours) and we had plenty of hot sun. I even managed to get a faint tinge of sun, or what passes on my pale skin for sunburn. Saw mother, brother, nephews - those two for the first time in about three years (the big one is bigger than me now) - and called in at York, Durham, Newcastle (now there's a fine city, I'd no idea), Carlisle, Manchester and, on the way in from the port, at Colchester. We did the whole trip in our car, driving to the Hook of Holland and taking the ferry over to Harwich in East Anglia.

Oh, we visited Norwich as well. I'd heard and read that it was well worth a visit. We obviously didn't find the right bit because Norwich is as dead as a door nail, full of loud, uncouth students and incredibly stressed people. The waitress in the pizzeria we ate at made our blood pressure go up, poor girl. And there was a noticably different reaction to us from the few people we spoke to - wary, anxious, not sure if it was 'safe' to speak to us. I don't know if we were just unlucky, if this is the way people are in Norwich or if the recent terror threats in Britain have made people in the south (east) generally more wary of anyone with a less than pasty white skin. At any rate, Bud hated the place - and the rest of East Anglia as well. He's suggested that we cut Norwich out of our map of Britain so we're never tempted to go there again!

Luckily, he loves the North of England and even thinks may prefer it to the south. Friendly, communicative people and an immediate feeling of being at home. Well, I have to say, he's right!

Picc's on hols

Back late August. While I'm away, maybe you'd like to sign the ceasefire petition. See post below or just go directly to this link:

http://www.ceasefirecampaign.org/mo/en.html

Join the Ceasefire Campaign!

Dear Friends,

As the awful civilian death toll rises above 1000 in Lebanon and Israel, people around the world are seeking a place to voice their frustration and concern. Over the last 4 days, 200,000 people from 148 countries have signed the ceasefire petition. At this rate, we could soon be the largest global online petition in history.

The pressure is working. The global outcry over this crisis has pushed the Ambassadors to the UN Security Council to work around the clock to achieve an immediate ceasefire.

The latest word is that the Council may be close to a final vote today or tomorrow, but we've been this close before and negotiations have fallen apart. We need more pressure now to close the deal.

Please forward this email on, spread the word to your friends, family and colleagues, post a link on your blog, bring up the campaign in discussions, and urgently encourage people around you to join this global wave of protest by signing up at the link below:

http://www.ceasefirecampaign.org/mo/en.html

The pressure is working. Let's ratchet it up.

With hope,

Ricken Patel, Ceasefire Campaign

Havana, I want to laugh...

Hot on the heels of Cuba's announcement that Fidel has stepped down 'temporarily', leaving brother to hold the reigns, comes the announcement from the White House that it's prepared to help Cuba towards a democratic transition...

God help the poor Cubans.

Cycling for life...

Following on from my last post, below, it looks like I'm going to be cycling for the rest of my life... Has the world gone completely mad, I ask myself? Are ALL our leaders off their head, insane, or just so utterly immature that you wonder if they even went through primary school.

America delivers bombs to Israel to drop on south Lebanon, calling in at the airport in Glasgow, UK, to refuel. And then we're going to broker a reasonable peace settlement by sending Condi to the Middle East to talk to both sides. Come on, people, who are we kidding?

The awful shooting at a Jewish centre in Seattle yesterday is, I fear, just a sign of what's to come. The Seattle shooting was appalling, the act of one insane man, you could think.

But what do we really expect Muslims to do when the whole damn world lines up against them? There are 700,000 people on the run in Lebanon, running from bombs that the US (helped by the UK) is supplying to Israel. You can bet that 95% of them have nothing to do with Hezbollah whatsoever. But who cares?

How can the world stand by and let this happen and do nothing to stop it? Not only that, we're actually supplying the bombs to make it possible.

Will someone tell me why this is one iota better than letting the Holocaust happen. It feels uncomfortably like the same thing to me.

Cycling for a year

I've been cycling to and from my work pretty well every working day now for a year. How do I know it's a year? Because a year ago was the London bombing and it was following that that I decided to give the (Amsterdam) metro a miss, preferring instead to cycle the 25-30 minutes to the office. It's turned out to be one of the highlights of every day, simply to be outside, cycling along the river and through a lovely park before spending my eight or nine hours inside. I've come to know the trees along the way, watched their leaves turn red and golden, then fall away; seen them turn bright green in spring. I've found a little Italian take-away along my regular route that I sometimes use for a dinner when I'm late. And I've come to anticipate the joyous feeling of swooping round one particular corner as I cut through a housing estate to take the shortest route to the 'factory'.

I love it. And when I think about it now, particularly in the light of the previous post below, I realise that it's another example of my being driven by fear - but turning it around. I should do this more often.

Come to think of it, I know another example, connected to the same fear. When we were in London recently for one day, I wanted to avoid the underground at all costs so worked out a route to walk from Euston Station to Charing Cross. It's not all that far and as we were walking along, heading for the landmark Centrepoint building, Bud - who was thinking about buying a new guitar - spotted a brightly painted music shop, went in and came out an hour later the proud owner of a beautiful electric guitar. Of course, we might have seen it if we'd taken the underground but I like to think it's because we took that particular route on foot.

Footnote: I'm claustrophobic, even at the best of times. Bear that in mind before you lambast me for being knock-kneed

This last week I realised...

that I'm driven mostly by FEAR

that I can get a whole new lease of life if I turn that round and run towards SUCCESS

that a three centimetre triangular patch of hair above my left temple has turned grey/white

that there's probably damn all I can do to change that except reach for a bottle

and that I think it's an affront to my self image to have to resort to such desperate measures this side of 90.

HAIR, get your act together and get your (little bit of) pigment back!

NOW!

Here I am again...

Back from he heart of the English counryside. Had an absolutely wonderful time. Tell you about it another day... I've just spent the last four hours copying and adapting a model - an amalgamation from two books - into a Word document. It has arrows, columns and something at the bottom that looks like a lottery ticket. At the moment, I think it looks just great.
Hope I don't wake up tomorrow and think something else...

It's been 30 degrees here, blazing hot. Today we're having rain.

I'm back in my little corner, beavering away on not one but TWO assignments (!!@***). One of my own that's not really getting going and one for a group project. That's what the model's for.

This is my last university course. EVER!

But you know, the funny thing is, right now I'm actually ENJOYING it. ...

Success!

I PASSED. Passed the diploma course that's been causing me so much grief. Still don't know what they really wanted but, who cares, it's over. Let them just give me the piece of paper.

Click on the comments below to tell me how utterly brilliant I am!.... :)

And now for the next one...

Saturday morning, Amsterdam, torrential rain. It's 8.30 and I've got up early - very early for me on a Saturday - to try and sort out my life before going to the Van Gogh Museum to meet a friend who's visiting from England. We're going to see the Rembrandt-Carvaggio exhibition. Can't say it's really what I'd choose to do today but she wants to see it and would like some company so...

I'm planning the next assignment - the first one for the new course. Feel like I'm in some sort of nightmare film where you just have to keep on spending your evenings and weekends and holidays doing academic assignments and struggling with them. As soon as you've finished one, there's the next one to do and it just goes on and on and on and on like that. Well, at least till October. If I pass, I'm going to end up hugely well qualified - and, knowing me, still in doubt whether I've earned any of the bits of paper.

Other than that I am trying to sort out the following: our flat - particularly the bags, books and boxes I've shoved in a corner of the hallway and under my desk - finances, home admin, work admin, a flight to somewhere for our long weekend next week (no time to book, let alone go, but nevermind), my contribution to the group project of the new course, a comms plan for both projects I'm working on at work, a larger living space, our Christmas holiday, seeing my family - particularly my nephews before they both become impossible teenagers - deciding how to make a step in the direction of leaving Holland (but where to?) and how to make time to do something nice, fun, creative and actually get on and live the life I want to do (what's that?) before I starting turning grey and losing my brain cells.

And I'm just amazed that people can do all these things, appear so calm and collected and have children as well.

Unfinished - but done

It's done. But still not finished. Now I know it - it never will be finished. I had the feeling all along, that it would just go on forever, this final paper for my course. I submitted it yesterday, posted it today. Unfinished, eternally unfinished. Am I satisfied? No way. Do I think it'll pass? I don't know but it damn well better do. Is it any good? Well, some parts of it are brilliant - and the rest is not worth the paper it's processed on. I'm exhausted. Dried up, parched. My brain has shrivelled to the size of a pea. Too tired to party and too phased out to think of anything really FUN to do to 'celebrate' the end of this self-inflicted purgatory. (I know, I'm exaggerating wildly here, wallowing in it....). What is FUN, by the way?

Girl, get a LIFE!

On Thursday I start the next university course.

Oh PLEASE, just give me six months' holiday instead....

Psst.....

Hello have you seen jj at all?

No, not heard a thing from her. Reckon she's run off...

Do you think she's too embarassed to tell us she's still not finished That Paper?

Well, the thought did pass through my mind but, for goodness sake, she MUST have got it done by now.

I don't know. Just have a funny feeling that it's not going well..

I did hear it's the Queen's Birthday celebrations in Holland today. Maybe she's off out partying...

Naaah, not her, she's not the partying type, but she did tell me that that chap she lives with - what's his name, Budge or Bud or something - she said he always insists on going out and looking for bargains on Queen's Day. (They're a funny lot the Dutch. Only nation I ever heard of who celebrate their monarch's birthday by putting all their old things out on the street and selling them off cheap...)

That could be it. Or maybe it's been hectic at work - it sounded a bit frantic last time she mentioned the office.

Yeah. I think she has a low stress threshold. She should take up running or yoga or something.

Well, she doesn't seem to be posting much these days so I suppose we'll just have to go off and read Google/News and read something interesting - like what the date is for dropping the first bombs on Tehran (how did I know a year ago that we were going to do that?) - or something like that. I'm being cynical now. Better go. Shouldn't really be taking up this space on someone else's blog. See ye later.

Think I might just hang around here a bit longer. Just in case... Getting a bit worried about that girl...

Success

Success is coming, slowly. Just needed to see the word up there in the headline!

Nevermind the failures...

I'm back again for a few minutes of furtive blogging. Mustn't let Bud catch me, deviating yet again from the Task at Hand. Just wanted to take a two min break to tell you that I've got a couple of great little widgets on my Apple. One shows me what level the sea's at Scheveningen on the Dutch coast - and whether the tide's coming in or going out (it's rising. The other shows me where it's day and night in the world and where the sun's directly overhead right now (just off the coast of California). I can see them both just by pressing F12. And there's another, potentially more useful one, that shows me traffic jams in Holland.
What more could a girl want?

Sawdust

Amidst sawdust, plaster dust, a living room turned completely on its head, workman's duties - holding metal strips while Bud bores pencils in where to draw the holes - humping and heaving of a heavy table that we no longer want, delivery of said table to nearby second hand shop, making of coffee for the workman himself (not to mention, discussions about which pieces of my property we'll be throwing out next), I have made some miniscule progress on The Paper. And now I'm worn out again.

What should I do? Go out and cycle through the park to get some Chinese food for dinner? Have a sleep? Do something else or just plough on regardless of exhaustion (doesn't work with me).

It's going to be 5 mins snooze and then cycle for the food. Then we'll see but if past experience is anything to go by, after dinner is the worst time for getting anything done. Heh ho....

Here I am again...

Bud's feeling like a chicken in a coup, or rather, a lion chained up in a zoo. Can you blame him, living with the student-who-can't-finish-this-bloody-paper? Yep, I'm here again at the computer, delaying the start of what's supposed to be the final day of wrestling this Thing into some sort of shape. Why isn't it done yet? Combination of factors:

On Thursday night, Bud exploded over an incident in a bar which he puts down to blatant, white Dutch discrimination against anyone with a brown skin. I can't blame him. The feeling that apartheid has come home to its roots - Holland - is something I share with him. The Dutch, even at government ministerial level, are rapidly developing two distinct classes of Dutch citizens. They call one lot 'autochtoon' - 'born here' of 'native' - and the other lot 'allochtoon', meaning (in theory) 'born elsewhere', i.e. outside the Netherlands. But, in fact, 'allochtoon' translates as 'anyone born inside or outside the Kingdom of the Netherlands who isn't white and could be taken for a Muslim'. So brown-skinned Dutchmen born in the Caribbean islands that form part of the Kingdom of the Netherlands are lumped in with the foreigners. There's even been an attempt to pass a law that makes it possible to DEPORT this 'Class B Dutchman' if he/she gets into criminal activity here. Fortunately, I think it's just been thrown out but the trend is scary. People - and I'm talking about the law-abiding ones now - like Bud, who've been fullly integrated in Dutch society for decades suddenly find themselves treated like outsiders. The same happened to the Jews here, Bud tells me. You don't want to know how many were sent from here by train to Germany, never to return....

I digress. Thursday's little incident wrecked most of our evening. He did shake it off later and the sun came out again. But, anyway, I was already exhausted from a busy week at work, tackling all these new, exhilerating (oh god...) challenges. Friday was a write-off. Brain switched off. Just complete refusal. Couldn't LOOK at The Paper, let alone DO anything with it. Tried piddling around with one or two paragraphs but after half hour just gave up and went and watched some mindless TV.

So here we are again. Think I'll stop blogging till I've got the damn thing done! Making my failures public is just too embarassing.

Happy birthday to Her Majesty...

The Queen - THE Queen, i.e. the British one, not the Dutch - is 80 today. We've just seen the BBC World TV pictures of her birthday celebrations in London, Windsor and elsewhere. She looked pretty good, I thought, and seemed to be enjoying the day but what on earth was Prince Philip doing in that drab raincoat? I could have sworn it was the first time he'd had it on. It looked like it'd been folded up and still had creases down the sides (like a shirt when you first take it out of the package). Or do they IRON his raincoats to make him appear as though he's dressed in a cardboard box? I thought he looked every bit of his 80-plus years.

And Charles. Oh Charles. In one way, I have a lot of admiration for him. Over the years, he's said a lot of very sensible things that needed saying and that no-one else in public life dared to say. Like, for instance, pointing out that Britain's town centres have been blighted with corrugated iron megastores and supermarkets that are ugly from the outside or making out a case for more gentle forms of farming or offering to be the 'Defender of the Faiths' instead of defender of just one faith, Christianity, when he becomes king. (That went down well with the Church of England that he will head should he ever become king). WILL he ever be king? In England, we don't talk about the Queen abdicating. It's just not done. She's in it for life. But in Holland - where their monarchs ride bicycles, travel in buses and abdicate at sixty-something - it's a burning question... Anyway, I'm drifting. Back to His Royal Highness. He embarasses me - or rather, I feel embarassed for him when he makes a speech. He's so obviously uncomfortable, awkward. I've always thought that he's someone who, given the chance before conception, would have chosen to be anything other than the eldest son of the Queen of England. I've asked myself many times before what he must have done in a previous life to have found himself, by mistake, in the role of Prince Charles in this one. What are the gods punishing him for?

What was amazing about his speech today, though, was the level of detail he revealed about his childhood. (I seem to remember that some years ago, during the feuding with Diana - may she rest in peace, poor girl - he wrote a book in which he revealed what an abysmally lonely childhood he'd had). This was different. He talked today of how his 'dear Mama' (can't help thinking that was a bit forced) in the days preceeding her coronation in 1952, came in to say good night to him and his sister (Princess Anne), wearing the crown so that she could get used to the weight of it before the coronation. Now that's amusing. And he told us how, in the months following the coronation, Mummy and Daddy had gone on tour abroad for six months and how he'd tried to talk to his mother on the phone amidst a storm of crackles and pops (no, not Rice Crispies, just interference on the line). I found that touching, genuinely. And then there was a shot of him and sister Anne on board a ship going out to greet their parents after the tour.

It was nice that he made the gesture of going on TV to wish H.M. a happy birthday - and an uncountable number of happy returns - I just wish he'd do a bit more media training so he could appear more confident. There's so much uncertainty and doubt comes across. Come to think of it, why couldn't someone edit the recording before it goes out? Well, I presume someone did so maybe the original had even more of those awkward moments. Poor guy can't do anything right. When his life's over and we look back - those of us who're around then and still interested - we may realise that we missed appreciating him for all the good he's done in life. If you don't believe me, get hold of a book called 'The Radical Prince' by David Lorimer.

Meanwhile, I wish HM a happy birthday. She's currently celebrating at a party thrown by HRH.

Learning..

I'm learning... a lot. Have realised that the second of the two projects that have landed on my desk is causing me a headache because it's so thoroughly badly organised. Not organised at all, in fact. It's not clear who owns the project, where the budget's coming from and there's no planning on paper showing what the milestones are, what they're going to do, what the proejcts's trying to achieve. And I'm supposed to base a communication plan on that - on thin air. No wonder it feels so daunting. I practically have to set up the whole project plan itself. Only I'm not going to do that.

Tomorrow I'm going to set out a whole series of questions and politely ask for answers to them. I may have zero experience in project management but I do have common sense ...

Moving targets

Had my first introduction today to one of the two project groups I have to lead. It seems all the theorising over the weekend has paid off (luckily The Paper I'm writing is all about communicating projects such as these) as my only comment - about integrating communication seemed to hit exactly the right spot. So I've got a few more days to think about what I'm actually going to DO, apart from coming with a few nice theories.

Now back to The Paper. I've won a bit of time there too (did I hear someone mention the word 'procrastination'?) as the tutor's agreed to look at it on Friday instead of Wednesday.

Feeling dillyapicc

New (temporary) title sort of describes how I feel right now. Dilly dallying, apathetic, a picker of daisies. Overwhelmed by the week ahead, middle-whelmed at present and underwhelmed by The Paper as produced so far. Time to go to bed. Success will come - after a good night's sleep.

Another hour...

Spent an hour sorting out the notes scattered across my desk and hunting down scribbled additions to previous drafts that I'd printed out.

Currently feeling slightly more evenly whelmed.

Sitting in the sun

We sat out on the balcony for the first time this year, lapping up the sun and shielding each other from the icy wind. I crashed completely today. Brain just refused to work. HAD to take a break - or so it seems to me. Maybe just delaying tactic par excellence but have only managed to take a brief look through the latest half-finished draft (did I say two-thirds? Hmm). Parts of it read quite well. Other parts look like the rantings of a madman. And still other parts are just a series of hopeful looking headings in bold with question marks at the end. I've realised that the problem isn't just that I've got to get this thing into first draft state by Wednesday but that I have to take over project leadership (something I've never done and doesn't come naturally to me) of two communications projects, start producing comms plans for both (also new) and take over the running of a new intranet site - all by Thursday. Now THAT's a challenge.

I feel overwhelmed.

It must be Monday...

I have that sort of Monday feeling. A deep 'oh no, it's Monday' feeling. Yes, it's a holiday here too but somehow I feel like I'm flogging a dead horse - myself - drained with energy to go on with the Task at Hand.

So I've indulged in Delay Tactic No. 1 - housework. I'm not a great housewife probably because it was one of my childhood ambitions not to be (that's one goal accomplished). But when I start a minor cleaning job, I instantly become fanatical at a micro level. Every minute bit of grease lingering under the screws that are hidden from sight by those things that fit over the gas points on top of the cooker HAS to be removed. So that took some time.

Then I sat down to read part of a book that might help with some ideas for The Paper. It was interesting but within 10 minutes I was overcome with fatigue so I tried Delay Tactic No. 2 - having a half hour snooze. (Just occurs to me, I wouldn't be able to do any of this if I had children; how do people manage? I suppose they don't do courses at the same time - though some of my colleagues do...) I DID have some ideas about The Paper while snoozing so it's not been a complete....

And now I'm into Delay Tactic No. 3 - blogging. But this is VITAL, I have to do it. And I've even had visitors who've left comments so it's even more important to have a look....

Luckily, Bud has just entered the room and told me he's going to have lie down while he massages an accupuncture point. This is good news as it means I have to switch to the Task at Hand and actually get on with the writing. Bye for now...

It's me again....

Just took a sneak look at 'Write Thinking' - see link below right (I'll remember how to do html links one of these days; Mac is a bit basic when it comes to blogging). I read one of the previous posts and found it most inspiring. The one that talks about how you're supposed to visualise the success you want instead of scuppering yourself by imagining what you're going to say when you fail. I've been rehearsing my 'why I couldn't finish this paper' speech for some time now, even imaginging the awful prospect of either (a) failing the whole course or (b) postponing the paper until next year.

I have to stop doing this. I have to start imagining that I'm handing in the best draft paper ever this coming Wednesday.

Or is that just another delaying tactic?

Please vote by pressing one of the buttons below:

YES NO

Blogging on the phone

Got mother on the phone, been on for half an hour, actually not much to say (on either side) but it's taken us half an hour to say it. I'm now one hour and 17 minutes - and about 3,500 words - behind on my schedule. I know by now that miracles don't happen after 9.18pm, not when it comes to academic stuff, but I will valiantly plough on, hoping that I'll make such significant progress that I'll end the day feeling as though the end of the tunnel is in sight. (That means the end of the paper, for those of you who haven't been following this tale of torture).
Toodle-oo.

Cadillypic etc

Just a little extra delaying tactic:

Variations on a blog name -

CADILLYPIC
ADILLYPICC
DILLYPICCA
ILLYPICCAD
LLYPICCADI (the Welsh version)
LYPICCADIL (had that one already)
YPICCADILL
PICCADILLY (sounds familiar)
ICCADILLYP
CCADILLYPI
CADILLYPIC

I'll now resist the tempation to spend the morning working out the other x-thousand variations...

Breakfast blogger

Good morning world and Happy Easter! Or am I not supposed to say that before Sunday? Always strikes me as strange that we call the Friday 'Good Friday' when we're remembering someone's cruxifiction - sorry, 'crucifixion' (had to look the word up) - which is, after all, a gruesome event. But before the God Squad descends on me, let me point out that I do know we're supposed to be celebrating His gift to the world (and that in some way that I've never been able to fathom, the death on the cross means I stand a chance of getting into heaven when I die)... I think he said very little about death and the after-life and gave us a lot of wisdom about living this life. As I've said somewhere before, if he ever comes back, I don't think he'd want to be seen dead in a church - and certainly not in so many....

I give thanks for his life and just wish his message hadn't been so thoroughly messed up and misinterpreted and used by all and sundry to justify the most horrible deeds. Happy Easter!

How on earth did I get on to this topic? It wasn't what I had in mind when I opened up my little Apple to do a bit of breakfast blogging before starting my mountain of work. Breakfast blogging is my new tactic. I'm hoping that by blogging first thing in the day, I'll have satisfied my blogging urges and - after a quick trip to google/news to catch up on the status of this World - in - Mess - I'll be ready to crack on. I've already checked gmail and found a - rare - mail from my brother with some photos attached, so that's done.

Ton of work

Just had a ton of work dropped in my lap today. All interesting stuff. Just wondering how I can stretch time so that I can get The Paper AND this mountain of tasks done - and get home on time for dinner and a quick chat with Bud. It all feels slightly overwhelming.

Think I'll call it a day and go to bed....

The next hour and a half..

The next hour and a half will determine whether I achieve anything much at all today. It's been one of those days - probably a hangover from the weekend spent with nose in study book - when I've achieved virtually nothing without even trying. The time has just passed and nothing has been done. Well, I did manage to sign into the learning zone for my next course - and promptly change my password and somehow lock myself out of it again. That will be an embarassing little e-mail tomorrow.
But in the next one and a half hours, MIRACLES WILL HAPPEN and I will suddenly dive right into my paper and emerge triumphant on the other side with a whole section completed and another one sketched out.

Won't I?

Great pics

And one more delaying tactic - finding out who called by my site. Following the links back, I came to this one with photos of cherry blossom (I spent my childhood climbing a cherry blossom tree) and other pics that show an interesting view of life from Tokyo:

what I see

Cleaning the toaster

Cleaning the toaster - that's my latest delaying tactic. There's something about studying that drives you to such desperate measures. After my half hour onslaught, our toaster is about as crumb-free as it's ever going to be. The fact that there ARE still crumbs in there does bother me, however... But I will resist the urge to (a) resume the task or (b) spend the next half hour blogging about it. On with the paper!

Pineapple and broccoli juice

Bet that title got you. Let's see how many hits I get from google now.... I'd never encountered such a weird mixture on a juice bottle myself but came across it in the natural food shop this afternoon - during a brief respite from the academic work - and just couldn't resist trying it. It tastes astonishingly good. Rather like pineapple juice, in fact, but a bit more mellow. And, of course, VERY good for you, no doubt.

It's 6pm and the sun's been shining for the last couple of hours.

Deluge

Even more rain this morning. Plus thunder and lightening. It's GREAT! Absolutely perfect weather for being indoors slogging away at The Paper. No, really, I mean it - I'm happy about it today. So, 11am Saturday, on with the work of art...

Downpour

It's raining cats and dogs outside. I don't know if I'm forgetting all the other downpours we've had but it seems to me that it hasn't rained much in Holland this year so far. I sort of NOTICE this rain. Pounding on the rooftops and filling up the drains. I feel mildly down. Maybe it's the weather or maybe it's because I've just called home to have the first chat of the last ten days with my mother (we've e-mailed several times in those ten days). We were only on for twenty minutes but it was just long enough for me to hear that she's struggling with loneliness - too many days trying to find a friend to go a walk with or trying to catch someone, anyone at the other end of a telephone line. It's been like this for as long as I can remember. Sad thing is, even when my father was alive, she was lonely. I knew it but could never say it. As a daughter, you just feel things like that. Loneliness, endless loneliness. Sometimes it's solitude and she likes that but quite often it's just being on your own, putting up with your own company, with no respite. I hate knowing that a relative's lonely - even though I've been that way so many times myself. I'm always trying to patch it up, make it better, fill the gap. In fact, I've spent so much of my time trying to fill that gap in my mother's life that I've not got on with my own in the way one should.... Self pity looming here.
I feel a bit down when I hear my mother's on her own - even though it's nothing new.
But, heh, cheer up, it's Friday night and I can still get back into full swing and plough ahead with this paper I have to write.
Now THERE's a happy thought!

Electronic navel gazing

I got back into my sitemeter. Haven't been there for yonks. Felt a bit like I was visiting an abandoned building site. There was nobody there. My statistics, already in a sorry state, have plummeted since December. It's not a gradual decline; it's drastic - a sudden cliff edge that disappears to nowhere. I found the site stat meter had dropped off the page somehow. So I've stuck it back on. It looks pretty. YOU CAN ALL COME BACK NOW GUYS!

The next generation

Today I received an e-mail from my brother, giving me his new address and three mobile phone numbers - one for him, my sister-in-law and one for my nephew, now 13 (and a half). He has a phone number, that little boy I picked up and carried what seems like only a few summers ago. His own number. I could ring him in the classroom and ask him what teacher's saying. Or do they turn their phones off during class time, these people of the next generation? I don't know. Don't know what the etiquette is. I kind of suspect that as an aunt I'm, as usual, expected to stay on the outer edge looking in, saying nothing and not interfering. It's a bit of a loser's game, being an aunt - at least, in our family. But I might just live dangerously. Might stick my oar in and ring the little guy (who's no longer so little). I'll choose my moment. And when/if I do ring, I'll do it by Skype. No point in throwing money away on a social call...

But I like it. I have a nephew with his own mobile phone number.

The first quarter century

Today, I realised as I was watching French students rioting in Paris - not quite sure what the connection was - it is exactly 25 years since I left my parents' home. One quarter of a century (of freedom, I nearly added). I can remember the day crystal clear. My parents in the front of the car, Dad driving, down the road to Manchester. It was a Saturday. They took me to - well, fancy that, I'd forgotten this connection - Piccadillly Station. Where it all begins. I remember sitting in the train and looking out of the window and being truly amazed to see them both standing there, waving, tears rollling down their cheeks as the whistle blew and the carriage started to move forwards. One week later I came back to reassure them that I hadn't left completely.

But it was the next day, the Sunday, that I'll remember forever. The first day of freedom. The beginning of the rest of MY life. Only 100 miles further south but a different place. I remember lying on the bed in the lodgings and staring out of the window at the blue, blue sky. Was I imagining it or was that sky bluer than I'd seen it before? It was a perfect English spring Sunday. I went outside for a saunter down the tree-lined road. The passing vicar greeted me - or maybe that was the day before; at any rate, I ventured into the nearby stone church for a look and ended up staying for the service (something I hardly ever did at home so it felt like freedom). The rest of the day is a blur to me. Just a wonderful feeling, something that took me completely by surprise, a general 'yes' feeling that this was the best thing I'd done for a very long time.

25 years on, the memory still feels good even if it's now tinged with just a hint of sadness. All these years on, I've still left home but never quite settled into a home of my own. Maybe that's for the next quarter of a century. After all, you have to give yourself time... :)

Progress and phantom calls

I have managed to make a little bit of progress today on The Paper. It's not sensational - either the contents or the progress - but at least I got something done. Early on today it didn't look as though I'd get anywhere with it. The blogging does help somewhat - helps me keep track of trains of thought that would otherwise just get missing in the general fog around my topic.

Had an e-mail today from an ex who's now in Beirut. I was thinking about him only last night and mentioned something he'd said about a particular place in France being a good place to develop a depression. (Bud and I had passed through the area last summer and I was impressed with how beautiful it was). Anyway, I mentioned this remark to Bud and later, as I was about to fall asleep, I was going to pass on some other bit of info about the ex in Beirut when I thought the better of it - don't want to overdo things - and fell asleep.

This morning, there was a short e-mail from Beirut (we've been in touch for a few weeks now, ever since I tracked down his e-mail in an idle moment on google). He said that the phone had rung three times the previous night and he'd heard my voice at the end of the line saying 'hello, hello' but I hadn't been able to hear him. Did this really happen or was he hallucinating was the question. He was hallucinating. I didn't ring, haven't rung him for years. So I told him I'd mentioned him around 1am his time. Maybe he picked up the thoughtwave.

Just occurs to me that that phone might be ringing again in his head as I write this....

Seems to be working

The other blog, I mean. It's an easy way to keep notes - just stick 'em on the blog. At least that way, I know where they are. There are other ways, of course, but a blog invites you to note down the trail of where you've been and that means you can save time by going back there next time round. Searching through library files, I mean....

It's been a glorious sunny day here. I ventured out, wrapped up to the nines against the wind, and sauntered across the park to a supermarket on the other side. I don't usually go to that one so it took me longer than usual to find what I wanted. But I reckoned it was worth it just to have a short while outside in the sun. We've eaten out as well. That wasn't on the agenda but it turned out to be the easiest option. Bud's struggling to unblock the kitchen sink - the water just won't go down - and neither of us could face the struggle of trying to cook a meal in the same tiny kitchen area while that problem was still unsolved. So that's why we went out to our favourite pizzeria just for a quick meal and then home. (I'm saying this for the benefit of my friend who occasionally pays a visit here. It's her birthday today and she'd invited me to her party but I chickened out due to what she herself diplomatically referred to as 'a birthday allergy', plus the fact that I'm still feeling anything but well.)

OK, I'm rambling. Gotta go and clear up my desk and try to knock just a little more order into my assignment outline before giving up on the day.

Cheating on my blog

I'm cheating on Picc. I've started another blog, under another user name, with only one purpose: to help me get my wretched assignment done. It's the dullest thing you could imagine (the blog, I mean, though you could say the same about the assignment). But I thought it might help, just to keep a record of what I've been doing - if only to give me some idea of how the precious time I've got left to do it in is actually being spent. It also serves as a reminder of what I've downloaded, where it's stored and what documents I've already hunted for or given up on.

It makes absolutely riveting reading. And it may not last beyond April.

It also feels like a completely different place to ol Picc. I come back here and it feels a bit like home. There's quite possible noone else here but it feels like the sort of place that always has a friend or two around. I can come and visit you via the links on the right. The new place is just a webboard, just a working thing that may or may not help. If it works well, I'll move ahead faster and get this paper done. If it works like blogs can, it'll slow me down as I try instead to make the blog interesting rather than to use it for what it is - just another web tool.

We shall see. Anyway, it feels a bit like I'm cheating on Picc. So I came back here just to say Good night.

Stolen from a quiet place

I finished the novel. Enjoyed it cover to cover, including the happy-ever-after ending. Apparently the author didn't think much of it himself - and even laboured six or seven years over writing it, changing the plot several times. Glad to know I'm not alone in find writing tough going at times. My mother went out and bought the same novel so we can discuss it via e-mail. Now isn't that nice...

Today I also borrowed a book, non-fiction, for my course from a nearby library, one I've not used before. The library is housed in what appears to be a historic building, with vaulted ceiling and large stone pillars. The libary is downstairs, below street level and has a suitably quiet, academic air - more what you'd expect to find at the main university than at this fashion school offshoot, in fact.

There was an American student ahead of me at the counter. She was asking the assistant if he'd seen anyone acting suspiciously. Her purse had gone missing from her bag. The assistant, a grey-haired man who I'd spoken to on the phone, looked very surprised and concerned. No, he'd seen no-one. The only stranger he'd noticed walking in there was me, he said. The girl - she'd be around twenty at least - said she'd left her handbag next to her seat for 'only ten minutes' while she went upstairs to talk to a teacher. 'Only ten minutes,' I thought, 'what planet is this girl living on?' I wouldn't leave my bag for 10 seconds unattended, anywhere in Amsterdam or the rest of the Netherlands, for that matter. Even when you have an old bike here - as just about everyone does - you have to buy a chain and lock that costs you nearly as much as the bike itself and make sure you use it every single time without fail. Such is life in Amsterdam.

One unhappy student is in for a tough weekend.

An hour to myself

No room of my own but, yes, tonight an hour to myself. Buddy's gone downstairs to have a glass of whisky with our neighbour, leaving me all alone here to enjoy the lovely quietness of our little flat. Somehow, it was just what I needed. That silence. Maybe not the breezy hilltop I was dreaming of yesterday or the day before but, the quietness and stillness. Bud can be quiet too, of course. But generally, he's a chatterbox and, anyway, a girl just needs some time to herself sometimes. In my case, quite often, really.

In fact, when I do get an hour to myself, there are often so many things I want to do to make the most of that hour that the hour's up before I've really started to get a hold on it...

Anyway, tonight I sat on my futon settee and meditated for twenty minutes, inwardly chanting a long mantra that's supposed to be good for healing and gradually feeling a sense of calm coming over me, a sense of ease and lightness. The sharp sensation in my throat hasn't gone away but it felt just right. And now I'm making myself a cup of tea, have quickly checked my e-mail and found one there from Mum (what would the world be without Mum?) and am going to post this and get right back to my Room with a View.

Bye

Room with a view

I don't have a room of my own but my little study corner is in our bedroom - and that doesn't have much of a view either. If I look over my left shoulder, I can see sky, the top floors of the flats across the street, flat roofs (a surprising number of flat roofs for such a wet country) satellite dishes pointing south to Morocco and some birds wheeling by. The best view is the view of the light wooden desk top my arms are resting on.

Cheered myself up last night by listening to Mozart - supposed to be good for you and worked for me - and, more especially, reading the first chapters of 'Room with a View'. This morning, it was the same book, plus Ray Charles that put me in a halfways decent mood.

If lungs could talk...

If my lungs could talk what would they say right now? Ouch - for starters. We feel caged in, let us out. Want to fly like a bird, soar in the sky, float across blue, bask in the sun, touch feathers with white clouds, want to swoop and wheel and criss-cross the sky out of sheer joy. It's too dark in here, too cramped, a bit soggy too. Feels like the roof caved in, like it's raining in and there are pieces of broken wood standing out against a dark sky and drip, drip, drip, steady, cold drizzle. This isn't where we want to be. We want sun - but not the hot, beating sun of the Caribbean, no that's too much - we want sun, clear, fresh, cool (but not cold) air, a feeling of Spring, hills - somewhere where we can be above the smog, blow away the dust, get clear of gas and bugs and all the other stuff that comes with living in Europe's drain.

I want to sit somewhere on a warm hilltop with a light breeze, feel silence all around me and feel that all is well and that all's going to be well.

I should stop watching the news and give myself a treat.

Right now, what treat could I give myself? Find a good book, a fiction book, and escape between its pages. Drink another cup of tea. And maybe get out the drawing pad and just doodle and put a few colours on the page - yeah, just be a kid for half an hour. I'm never going to shake off this feeling of gloom by filling in my tax return and forcing myself to open a study book.

I know, I know, you're panicking about the deadlines - looming for both tax and course. But you have to give yourself a break girl.

Yes, there's sadness there too. Old sadness. Melancholy's been a night-time buddy all my life. HEH, go do something NICE!

Oh Seattle!

What's happening over there? Awful news about the guy with a shotgun at the rave.

The bug got me

My rusty throat feels better but my lungs are now wheezing as though I'd smoked all my life. Which is SO unfair. I haven't even smoked ONCE, not one, single cigarette. Ah well, at least I'm not lying in the hospital - like my colleague who was taken ill on Tuesday and ended up spending all night in intensive care. That was a shock to all of us, most of all him. It's meant that I've been pretty much left running the show at work as another colleague is off travellling for a week. It's been what you might call a baptism of fire. I've managed somehow but only just and the result is that the bug I was trying to shake off when I last wrote has grabbed me by the throat and started an offensive in my poor ol' bronchii (not sure if that should one 'i' or two and I'm too tired to go and find out). My lungs seem to get it every time. I read in a book somewhere that lung afflictions are, psychologically, to do with melancholy and unexpressed sadness. Somehow, that doesn't help at all.

I think I'm going to call in sick tomorrow and work from home. It's the only solution. No-one's going to thank me for coughing and spluttering my way through the day and, anyway, after a morning of that I'm so knackered, I need an hour's sleep. But on the other hand, there's so much that HAS to be done tomorrow, I can't just afford to turn of the computer and the phone and leave it at that. Heh, and I may even go and see a doctor. How about that? Get some real hard drugs to help this little affliction on its way. It's funny, you know, in England the doctor would give you antibiotics immediately - even for a common cold. That goes too far in my view. Over here on the Continent, it's much more usual for the doctor to prescribe tea with lemon and tell you to go and lie down for four days. And we think we can compete with Asia and the USA? Ha!

Throat

My throat feels like a piece of rusty pipe. I'm taking the Lemsips and sipping sage tea, downing Chinese herbs and probably should be taking something powerful and nasty instead to stave off whatever it is that's knocking at my door. Go away Bug, I don't have time to entertain you.

We had a team meeting today, the first in the new job. Ah, how nice to land somewhere where there IS a team with a leader who opens proceedings by looking round the table and asking everyone how they are. This place feels like a good place to be. Fingers crossed, it turns out to be just that and doesn't get reorganised and turned around into something else. (You never know in the international bakery).

Tomorrow I say goodbye to my old colleagues with some drinks at the cafe across the way. If my throat feels anything like it does now, it'll be a quick goodbye from my side.

Try this, it's fun....

...will give you a laugh and might even tell you a few interesting facts that will make you switch off your computer right this minute!

http://www.theclimategroup.org/index.php?pid=555

Music, Apples and bugs..

I'm sitting in the living room, Apple on knee, listening to Bud playing a guitar accompaniment to the music blasting out of his mega speakers. Well, blasting, I've asked him to turn it down a bit. This is Sunday, you know. Not that the guys who live downstairs are religious though they have been known to bang on the ceiling when the music's too loud.

Talking about Sundays, did you know that there are places only an hour or so from Amsterdam where the people are so religious that they won't drive or ride in a car on Sundays, insisting on walking to church and back, sometimes more than once, all decked out in black? A colleague of mine who grew in a village like that, but wasn't religious, told me that his family used to save some gardening work round the back of the house for Sundays so that they had something to do on Sundays and didn't offend the neighbours by working in the front garden... I would go stark staring mad in a place like that.

I digress. Back to the living room. We've got reaggae on at the moment. I love reaggae, particularly Bob Marley. Also love my little Apple and the fun of being able to blog wireless from the living room couch. Feels a bit like being a student again. Oh don't mention that. I'd forgotten momentarily that I was in battle with The Paper. Bud was helping me with it this morning. You wouldn't believe how convoluted my thinking can be at times. Logic doesn't come easily... Or maybe you would realise that, from the rambling nature of this post..

There's a bug hovering. Bud's a lot better today. I feel worse. Fortunately, I've been raiding the bottles of vitamin pills in the past week so there's a chance that this bug will be clobbered before it gets a hold. After lunch, I just want a nice clear head to sit down and write one amazingly coherent paper. I need a couple of thousand words on paper to stem the feeling of rising panic.

Needed: room of my own

Bud has flu. It's the second time in six weeks and this time it's hit him really hard. Floored him. Unable to bear being laid out in bed all day long, he's loafing around the flat like a restless teenager on a street corner - only looking like an old man. He's got low back pain from the coughing and keeps telling me that I'm getting a preview of how he'll look in ten or twenty years time, Bud stooped and shuffling along with a stick or a walking frame. I must say, he's still bright and cheerful, despite being knocked out by flu. The sun is simply built into him, brought with him all the way from the Caribbean all those years ago when he first came to Holland and has stayed with him ever since, bless him.

He's driving me up the wall! I'm trying to get my paper done for college and can't seem to get a span of even ten minutes when I'm not interrupted by something Bud wants or wants to say. I know I'd miss this if he wasn't around - if the flu were to suddenly wipe him out like he sometimes fears it might - but that doesn't quell the frustration and feeling of rising panic (how on earth AM I going to get this latest paper done in time?)

So, there you have it, we need a bigger flat. This girl needs a room of her own. Trouble is, prices of flats in overpopulated North Holland are sky high, particularly in Amsterdam and, anyway, I don't have time to look for one. So we're stuck with this for the moment.

I have two options: 1. lock myself in my little study corner in the bedroom or 2. go out and study somewhere else. No. 1 doesnt work because we don't have a lock on the door and if the door's closed it doesn't stay closed for long (and, anyway, it seems so unfriendly towards such a basically friendly soul as Bud), so it has to be No. 2.

See you later...

Over the hill

There are no hills worth talking of in Holland, as you know. Even the ones they have down in the south-east don't really qualify as far as I'm concerned, coming from the hilly north of England. I've just had a birthday, seriously over the hill (in fact, the hill's long out of sight) but luckily, people still swoon and say 'NO, can't be!' when I tell them my age. I'm already twice as old of some of my colleagues - feels quite funny to say that. Anyway, what does it matter?

I do like birthdays though. Mine is always special. I feel totally wretched if I have no-one to spend it with. Like my fortieth - there, I'm giving it away - some years ago when I entertained myself to dinner in a restaurant near the beach. The highlight of that sad evening was a telephone call from a friend living a thousand miles away. Bless you, you rescued the whole day...

Anyway, this birthday was a nice one. Planned nothing but it all turned out just great. We drove about an hour south of Amsterdam and had dinner in a restaurant overlooking the River Waal, downing salmon trout while the freight tankers from Germany and beyond floated past the windows on their way to the North Sea. NOT the most romantic picture, I know, but this is about as good as it gets in Holland, you know. (This place is basically Europe's drain, I don't know if people realise that. Anything that gets chucked into the Rhein ends up being pumped out to sea via Holland).

Forget the freight tankers, I had a lovely time in that restaurant and Bud did too. The ambience was great, the room was spacious and lit by candles, there were some other diners but not too many - and the food was good. Piece de resistance was the 'Heisse Liebe' ('Hot Love') dessert of hot raspberries and vanilla ice cream topped with cream.

It's hailstoning out there

And it's getting hazardous cycling to work through slush and over unmelted ice that sends you sliding on your way into the gutter! But it does give a feeling of achievement, battling against the elements just to get to the international bakery and back.

Had a hilarious meeting today in which our department head asked us all (all four of us) to monitor our workload over the coming weeks so that he can work out how many staff we'll need. I wanted to laugh out loud - there isn't any work for crying out loud and he hasn't noticed yet? It's been like this now for weeks, just dawdling around with the odd memo, running off a message for someone (only to have it shelved after the 19th revision) and anyone looking on our intranet site can see it. How come he can't? He seemed to think it'd be some incredibly difficult process to monitor this avalanche of work (maybe it's heading our way but there's no sign of it yet). Ah well, better humour him with a strategic approach to nothingness.

I move to another department next week.

By the way...

I'm back in Amsterdam. Cooking (fish) for dinner so better get back to the kitchen!

London-bound

Off to London again tomorrow - well, technicallly, today in just over seven hours' time - for the final module of the comms course I'm on. Can't believe we're at the end of it already. Or the beginning of the end - there's another 6-8 weeks' heroic battle with the final assignment coming up. Wish me luck!

A quote I like

"It is well to remember that the entire universe, with one trifling exception, is composed of others".
~ John Andrew Holmes

Found on Sky's site: Now and Ever (see links on right)

Sign of life

I have a reader! Yes! Congo has flown in and told me she actually misses my casual posts - so I better say something.

BOO.

Actually, I do have something quite funny to tell. You know I've been doing this course? And you know it's been a complete pain in the neck and I've laboured over these assignments we have to do and found them nothing short of torture. You probably don't know - but I'll tell you - that I've sort of vowed to myself that I won't go near any academic course EVER AGAIN.

Well, the other day, the line manager in the new department where I'm going to work said he'd like to send me a six-month course (three modules) in England, starting in May. It's about Sustainability - the area I'm going to be working in in the international bakery - so I immediately said yes, thinking 'It's bound to be one of these professional courses where you just turn up, listen and take part'.

Yesterday, I found out that it's another degree course at a very well known British university and will require that I write THREE MORE ASSIGNMENTS!

That means that by the end of 2006, I'm going to be one of the best-qualified zombies ever to turn up for duty at the international bakery. I can't believe it; it's like some Cosmic Joke: THREE MORE of these bloody things!!!

What's even more amazing is that I'm really looking forward to it! It gives me one huge kick - of the nice sort - to think that by the end of this year the Corporate Employer will have invested over eight thousand pounds sterling in just 18 months in this one employee: ME. I might even feel obliged to hang around for a bit longer....

FOUND YOU!

I've found your comments! All of them. A whole great list of them. And all these months, I've been thinking, gosh, they're quiet. Thought everyone had gone away. But no, tis I who's gone away. It seems that some time way back in the Dark Ages, round about November, for reasons that now escape me, I turned on the 'pending moderation' option in Haloscan comments so that I could review comments and censure them before publication!! And then I forgot all about it.

So there your comments remained, parked in a forgotten sidetrack, pending a decision by the The Censor, who, unfortunately, was out for lunch the whole time.

Well, I have to thank you all for your perserverance and also your good wishes on my job. And thanks to Rachel and Congo for telling me that comments weren't getting through. I've figured out which button I have to press and turned off the 'moderation' option so you can fire away and blaspheme to your heart's content (but no Danish cartoons please.....:)

It also means that since someone is occasionally reading this - my page view statistics are at an all time low but I don't seem to worry about them these days (three's enough) - I better get on and post something riveting, soon.

It won't be tonight as Bud's just come home and wants to go out for a drink. Speak to you later....and thanks again for taking the time to comment. The Censor's been fired and sent on a permanent lunch break.

Rabbits, rabbits, rabbits

It's the 1st of Feb. Well, you knew that, of course, but it just reminds me of this little ritual we used to have when we were kids. On every first day of the month, BEFORE breakfast, we had to say 'Rabbits, rabbits, rabbits' to make sure we had the best chance of good luck in that month. I've no idea where that came from Did anyone else do these silly things?

Anyway, we stuck to it religiously, my brother and I. It was seen as VERY important to say this before you ate or drank anything at all. Now my brother was several years older than me and pretty adept at teasing his little sister mercilessly whenever he got the opportunity. Putting her in her place. But I, being No. 2, had the benefit of being able to learn from Big Brother - plus, I was a touch quicker off the mark.

So I'd come down to breakfast on the first of the month, sit at my usual place - to his left - be unusually quiet (in those days, I was the noisy one) and just wait, pouring the milk on to my Kellogg's Rice Crispies, listening to the sound of the popple and crack and watching him do the same. I'd continue to wait while he put his spoon into the milk and raised it to his mouth. And I'd watch while he put the spoon in his mouth and then, while he was in the act of swallowing his first Rice Crispies of the month, I'd gleefully declare, 'RABBITS, RABBITS, RABBITS - ha, you didn't say it!'.

Then my breakfast - and my month - could begin well.

(I told that to Bud last night and he just said 'JJ, you were so mean'.)

Nevermind mean, Little Sisters have to get a goal sometimes, I'd say.

YES!

UNBELIEVABLE! I'VE GOT THE JOB!!!!

Is there anyone there?

..she said, staring at the entry for 1 January 2006 and realising that we're already half way through the first month and nothing's been posted here yet. So much for creativity. I've had the third interview today for a job that I'd really love to have but don't think I'm going to get. I keep running back through all three interviews in my mind like a film and feeling like I'd like to cover my face and point my finger at that poor girl sat there saying all the wrong things. Someone should give her training in how to present herself, for goodness sake. I'm distancing from her at the moment, preferring to remain cocooned in my belief that I'm a much smarter, classier operator than that person. I can imagine Bud sitting on the sidelines like a referree - or like the trainer of a football team - and jumping up and down and wringing his hands in despair when I miss the goal for the umpteenth time.

Er - sorry, when she misses the goal...

By the way, they haven't told me yet whether I've got the job. The big issue for the guy recruiting is that he finds me too introverted and quiet.

If he doesn't give me the job, I might just go and set up the Introverts Defence League and go and set up a picket line outside the European Parliament, demanding a ban on anti-introvert discrimination.

The lady who interviewed me today - she was from HR - did say (I should remind myself) that she thought there was 'a lot of quiet strength in introverts', particularly in a department full of extroverts as this one is slated to be.

If the guy who interviewed me is reading this blog post, then I have two things to say to him: 1. Despite what you think, this is not me. 2. I'M AN INTROVERT, CLEAR OFF!!

Happy New Year

Hope you're enjoying a good start to 2006 and that we'll all have something positive to talk about at the end of it ...
I made only one resolution: to give more room to creativity this year.
So let's see what happens.