Skip to main content

O-kay then

In other news, there's plenty o'news.
So the big manager has been given his shot elsewhere. His assistant and I step up to promotion. In theory, it's all beautiful. Wage hike, more of a chance to prove I'm more than capable of running the whole shebang stood on my head, big old gilt-edged opportunity right there.

But of course, the fears immediately start to creep in. Will the new manager go power-crazed and start barking at staff in front of customers? Will I crumble under the pressure of having to be nice to people all the time? And isn't it about thime that I started accepting that I seem to have gone career here? All this, and more, in your super soaraway coastalblog.

I sspect I may be blogging a bit more frequently than usual, I'll have a lot to work through in the coming months, and writing it all out does help to clarify matters somewhat. The two week hiatus was down to a variety of factors: the jaw-dropping rapidity of my promotion, the net being out for a week (a big 'ol thank-you to the USELESS MUTANT BASTARDS at British Telecom for taking over a week to sort that one out [why mutant? well, unless their hands were surgically attached to their asses...]) and a sojourn down south to see the folks. Which was great in parts.

The upsides: the second I saw the road sign saying "You are now entering the South West" I instantly felt my neck muscles relax, my sister is the most radiant creature on the whole of this good earth, beautiful and fearless as only eleven year olds can be. Getting on moderately well with my dad's new mrs dad, if only because it makes life easier for him. Wonderful to bookend the stay with hotel visits, just me and Roe, Worcester on the way down, Ludlow on the way back up (of which, more later)

The downsides: this trip was the first intimation I have ever had of my parent's mortality, and thus, by inference, the first I have ever had of my own. My mother seems weakened by the awful relationship she's just been through, and although she has her own house the future seems financially precarious. I feel the onus is on me to start making some money. She's happy at the moment, but I fear for the time when my sister is the last one to leave. And poor old Dad, arthritis is attacking him everywhere , no caffeine, no wheat, no dairy, theoretically no alcohol but he wasn't about to let that stop us chatting over a pint of incredibly good bitter (Exmoor Gold, fact fans). Conversely though, he is bearing it with fortitude. He's helped in this by the fact that he's settled, and has the companionship of a woman who adores him. They have plans, and Dad being Dad, I see no reason why those plans shouldn't come to fruition. Mum was less lucky, her long term boyfriend finally showed his colours as a fucking coward, and failed to commit when the deal for the house they were supposed to buy together was said and done. Get this, he gave her an engagement ring on Christmas Day. Less than two months later, he's gone. Piece of shit. Mum being mum, she thrives off companionship. I am worried. The only other downside was the terrifying amount of money I spent, but I'm being philosophical about that, compared to the other stuff.

So anyway, Ludlow.
GO TO LUDLOW. EAT THE CHEESES FROM THE CHEESE SHOP. DROP TO YOUR KNEES AND GIVE THANKS TO THE DEITY OF YOUR CHOICE THAT YOU LIVE IN A WORLD WHERE MRS BELL'S BLUE GOAT'S CHEESE EXISTS. HAVE PINTS IN FRONT OF LOG FIRES, EVEN THE CHARITY SHOPS SEEM TO SELL BEER AND HAVE LOG FIRES. GO TO LUDLOW. GO TO LUDLOW. GO TO LUDLOW.

That is all.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The last day of the county season

 Look, I never claimed to be cool. As a a cliched middle aged male, I have a number of interests which, if not exactly niche, are perhaps not freighted with glamour. Not exactly ones to set the heart racing. I yearn not for wakeboarding, my cocaine with minor celebrities days are well and truly behind me, you are unlikely to catch me writing graffiti under a motorway bridge. I do cycle, but only as a way of getting from point A to point B, you are unlikely, you will be relieved to hear, to see me purchasing lycra and or/doing triathlons. I like going for a nice walk. I'm fond of a good book. I have a deep attachment to county cricket. Yes, that's right, county, not even the international stuff which briefly captures the nation's fleeting attention once in a blue moon. County cricket. Somerset CCC to be precise, though I'll watch / listen to any of it. The unpopular part of an unpopular sport. Well, that's the public perception, the much maligned two men and a dog. N...

D-Day Dos and Don'ts for Dunces

Oh Rishi. Lad.  You have, by now, almost certainly become aware of the Prime Minister(for the time being)'s latest gaffe, as he returned home early from D-Day commemoration events in France, in order to "concentrate on an interview" which, as it turns out was already pre-recorded. There's been a fair bit of outrage, the word "disrespectful" is being bandied about a lot.  The word I'd use is "stupid". It is often said of the Brits that we have no religion but that the NHS is the closest thing we have to one. This, I think, is incorrect, because the fetishisation of WWII is to my mind, far closer to being our object of national veneration.  I understand why, last time we were relevant, fairly straightforwardly evil oppo, quite nice to be the good guys for a change, I absolutely get why the British public worship at the altar of a conflict which, I note, was a very long time ago. I think it's a bit daft, personally, but I understand it. So you...

The three most tedious food debates on the internet.

 I very much only have myself to blame. One of the less heralded aspects of running a business is that one is, regrettably, obliged to maintain a social media presence, it's just expected. And, if I have to do it, I'm going to do it very much in my own voice, as I don't tend to have time to stop and think when I'm bunging something on Insta. It seems to have worked okay so far. But, as a man better versed on the online world than he would prefer, I should have known better than to stick up a picture of our bread rolls, fresh out of the oven. In my defence, I did preface said picture by saying "one of the most tedious debates on the internet is what these are called...". Doubtless you've seen the argument somewhere, it's one of the workaday tropes that shithouse FB pages use to drive engagement. Need a few thousand clicks to raise the profile of your godawful local radio station/page about how everything was better in the past/shelter for confused cats?...