… owing to moving house, no internet at home until I get it sorted, and Life in General in the lead up to 19th December and a respite from work, I won’t be around much, if at all until after….. oh, you know when.
I was going to spent the afternoon raking up the last lot of leaves, but rain has stopped play, so I’ve begun packing, and organising myself.
I’ve got the Chr….. those seasonal cards all ready for posting, with change of address notes ready to go in once I know what the new phone number is going to be.
I’ve got the e-mails all set up ready to go once I know what the new phone number is going to be.
I’m working my way through the last of the laundry, and have packed the clothes for work the day after I move, and have the work bag ready – as I have no doubt I’ll be Very Confused.
I’m about to pack the rucksack for the unexpected overnight trip away this week. I’ve not been away for the whole time I’ve been here, but funerals happen when they happen, and this was one I was not prepared to miss.
But first, I shall divert my attention to Inspector Morse!
With apologies to my Australian readers, I am now going to gloat and I shall be floating on a cloud for days now. Wearing a Scotland Rugby Shirt!!
Scotland really did beat Australia… I didn’t dream it.
I have, for some years, been describing my loyal and faithful support for Scottish Rugby Union, especially in the Six Nations, as penitential. Who needed to take on extra penance during Lent when the five matches of the Six Nations involving Scotland so often provided angst and misery enough to fill many Lents.
So, I take my joy and happiness where I can find it, and today is definitely a happy one for Scottish Rugby Union.
I knew my life was going to be turned inside out and upside down this past year, I couldn’t imagine in how many different ways this has happened.
This time last year, all I had done was make the basic decision. Things were going to change, as soon as I had fulfilled a contractual obligation. I had a vague idea I might have some kind of full time job by now, possibly in the sector in which I do a somewhat unusual job, and possibly lodging with someone, somewhere in the vicinity of that job.
I didn’t imagine I’d be juggling three part time jobs, which still don’t add up to full time employment.
I so didn’t imagine I’d be living where I’m living now, nor did I ever imagine it would be in this city, which is a somewhat inconvenient distance away from work, or that I would be actively choosing to remain in this city for the foreseeable future. Ironic, since I kicked and screamed about being here last time round, and the time before that.
I’d allowed for the last few months to be a lot of an emotional roller coaster, I certainly had not predicted the way in which it became more of one than I’d thought might be the case.
I couldn’t imagine how content I have become, despite the many uncertainties that continue.
Just a phase I’m going through? Maybe or maybe not… but I do think in a few months time, when this phase comes to a definitive end, there are so many possibilities. And, I’ve an inkling I know which way one of them will turn out.
For, lo, it has come to pass that Japes has had a wiblog for a whole year now!
Thank you for reading my ramblings!
I got some news about work yesterday that I was pretty stunned by, though not entirely surprised about. It does put huge question marks over any long term employment in a field I was hoping I could move into….
But, after feeling really stunned all day, and coming home emotionally drained at all we’d been dealing with and the mere thought of having to deal with job hunting again, I find myself today feeling quite liberated, and even cheerful about the prospect of having a rethink. (Just remind me about this when I’m be-wailing my lot in life in a few weeks time, and when the travelling to the work I thought I could stop at the end of term is continuing….)
I also did The Right and Generous Thing by someone who has caused me a lot of stress and difficulty in the last few weeks, and feel a lot better about that situation, too. I know I’ve done my best to put it right, I can’t make anyone else see my point of view, but I’ve stated it clearly, I will be making an official complaint to the correct person to deal with the fall out, and after that it’s not mine to fret about.
This could also be that I will be moving to my own little home, all by myself, for the first time ever, and I’m getting very excited.
You know it’s going to happen as soon as you are approached with the request, “I’m looking for a Large Print Bible..” and you smile, marshalling your best Customer Service manners, all ready. And within minutes, the expected request for Large Print, (but meaning Giant Print) small enough to fit in the best Sunday handbag, leather-bound with zip, the “proper” Bible, (meaning the Authorised, or King James) and preferably under £10.00 is trotted out. There is a fortune awaiting the person who ever manages to devise one.
Then, there is the regular buyer of Bibles to give away. Doesn’t really want to spend more than a couple of pounds, but complains bitterly at the quality every time. The only time I ever heard one inordinately professional Christian Bookshop manager’s professionalism come close to slipping was during one such series of complaints. She listened patiently, explained if he wanted better quality, he would have to pay more, he retorted £2.99 was too much, and she quietly remarked she was sorry he valued the Word of God as being worth less than £2.99.
There are the Bibles marketed at women, at men, at couples, at youth, at children. There are Devotional Bibles, Study Bibles, Read the Bible in a Year Bibles…. The Green Bible, the Social Justice Bible… you name it, it’s around or has been around.
There is the “Fashion Bible” – the one that came in a tin, the brown paper wrapped one, the funky colours on the covers, the numerous ways of dressing it up to appeal to the young, the impressionable, and yes, if it gets someone reading it, one bit of me says “Why not?” But when the cover matters more than the content… “She only wants the NKJV with the Pink Princess Cover and Diamanté clasp” (I kid you not) then I seriously wonder…
All this aside, I love the job of uniting customer and Bible! I love tracking down exactly what’s available, and possible, and making someone’s day that I’ve done it.
I am grateful I live somewhere with so much choice. I, like Rosamundi, am ridiculously picky about the version I prefer. And, if you read through all Rosamundi has said about Bibles and our choices, I am in total agreement with her. I am well, well aware that this is indeed an enormous privilege, not a right. A privilege so many do not have.
So, enough internal whinging from me that I’ve lost motivation for Bible Reading or Study, I’ve not got time to do other than the bare minimum, or any of the other excuses I’ve got down to a fine art. I’m off to get re-started.
are going to be required in vast quantities over the next few weeks! I think I can cautiously be certain I am going to stay put for at least the next year, and probably more.
But… we have to get through the moving process first. I say “we” because I’m renting a dear little house from someone who I know through church, and it’s become a whole church project. I am assured that this is the case every time there’s a new tenant in this house, but for numerous reasons, because there has been some more major work done this time, and what with One Thing and Another, it seems to have caused far more stress than the last time I remember this happening
I’m genuinely pleased with this agreement, and really like the house. It’s quirky, Japes-friendly, and incredibly well placed for loads of things – transport, shopping, but just off the beaten track enough to be relatively quiet. It is very basic – and I’m content with that. I will use the kitchen utensils that are there to start with, and as I can afford it will gradually put them away and use my own. (You have no idea how excited about that I am getting!)
However, I can see if you are someone who is relatively house proud, and likes everything to be just so, it’s so not good. It probably wouldn’t meet any letting agency standards, and it certainly is stressing the person sorting out the practical details of it. I’ve spent much time today reassuring her it’s really, really OK.
For me, this represents a massive, massive step towards completely implementing the Big Decision I’ve been either thinking about, or sorting out for what is seeming like forever and several days now. Whilst completion can’t happen for a few more months yet, it’s so nearly there. I’ve not regretted the baby steps I’ve made towards it over the last four months or so, the staying with friends, then this temporary address, but I am so looking forwards to being in my own home properly.
It’s been a really roller coaster few days, and I think life’s almost back on an even keel again. I still need answers to questions, but somehow think I’m not going to get them. I still need to be sure I’m going to get the colossal muddle sorted… but I’m much surer than I was this time last week.
Tomorrow sees me sorting out the next move, which is happening in the next three weeks or so, and also doing some gentle persuading that I’m really quite capable of sorting out various practical things for myself.
So, um, having watched Aristocats as it was the gentlest option on TV, I’m now going to write my Ch…. Christm…. oh, those things most people send in December, but I’m going to send sooner to get out the change of addresses at the same time.
I think I’m going to need a lot of prayer!!!!!
Of all the things I hate about moving, finding someone new to cut my hair is pretty high on the list of the stress factors.
It was decision time this week… and this weeks stress started with me going to the hairdresser I’d been to before, one of the walk-in chain variety, to discover they now will only do dry cuts when it’s a minimal trim, otherwise you have to have your hair washed. Wetting it doesn’t count.
So, it was a toss up between taking myself off to the area I’m moving to in three weeks or so, and finding someone there, or looking in the local shops, which conveniently are on a direct bus route from New Area, to see if I could find someone I liked. Which I have done.
We chatted – which is really unusual for me in a hairdresser. I hate talking to people I don’t know when I can’t see them as I’m seriously short-sighted without my glasses on! She did as I asked, not as she wanted, and was complimentary about the state of my hair!! “Can’t remember the last time I cut natural hair!” was the comment, after she’d asked if I’d ever had it coloured/permed/used styling products, and I cheerfully replied in the negative to the lot, said I didn’t even own a hairdryer, and had only started using conditioner since the infamous Hot Chicken Fat all over my Hair Day. Which had necessitated 27 applications of washing up liquid and cool water to remove the fat… and luckily happened a day or so before a hair cut was due, which protected both my face and scalp from worse damage.
So, that’s that one solved!
Just got to get registered with a doctor asap now.