A breeze of change

Ok, so I'm a slow learner on some things. I'm one of those sorts who quite happily helps the world and his bro sort out their workload/personal issues/house-clearance/contract killings* whilst my own stuff is left undone. But this week is the start of the 'Campaign to Really Annoy Irritating Colleagues'. Or CRAIC.

The aim of the CRAIC is just to - well, it sort of says it all on the tin - irritate people. In the same way they've been driving me nuts for a while.

I call them the 'Slinkies' - they have no real purpose in life but they make you smile when you push them down the stairs. That's one pure gem I found on Facebook :)

And it has got off to a slow but satisfying start. We have a box of assignments here, referred to in Failed the Customer Service Brief. So urgent in fact, that the tutor has left them here for 7 weeks. The arrangement was that, rather than courier the box to a local FE college (about 5 miles away) we would box them up, shove the tutor in a taxi with them at the end of a new session, and he could take them back.

He hasn't seen it as urgent, so neither have we. They are now officially His Problem - the last bit of course delivery is for him to get off his butt and mark them. But today we have the delightful Wilty Emma on lunch cover, a drippy girl with a whingy voice and the dynamism of roadkill. She's one of the people whose assignment has been abandoned, and someone with more backbone has asked what the bloody hell is happening, they want to know their marks.

What old Wilty-knickers wants is someone to do something. The thought that she might get off her bony arse and remind the tutor? Utterly alien! Despite the fact that she was our contact for the programme, a fact she is conveniently forgetting. In her eyes, she's too important to phone taxis. I believe it's a big ask for her IQ, but she could at least try.

The last thing she expected was for me to tell her to sort it out herself with the tutor. He may have some excellent reason why they are safer with us. So she is now huffing and puffing, and wilting, which is more energetic than she's been in many a year!

"It makes us look bad" she whines, at the end of a 3-minute speech so dull that I nodded off partway through my sandwich. She then stops,puzzled by my lack of concern.

"It's not my baby so I'm not in the least bothered, I'm more worried about the BSL results". It might have sounded a bit odd, through the chicken and mayonnaise, but she got the point.

I can see 'Does Not Compute' signs starting to flash in the vacuum behind her eyes. I wait for the smoke as she goes into meltdown, having first moved away from the sprinklers and the electrical stuff.

Part of me is feeling very petty, and sad. Plus, Wilty-knickers has been blessed with sad puppy eyes, and I feel like I've kicked a Labrador puppy.

Then I remember the aim of the CRAIC, and feel good.

* I've not started the contract killings yet, but I'm considering a career change.

This rings so true Chez Reservoir Mogs

Kitchen-Floor Conflict Intensifies As Rival House Cats Claim Same Empty Bag

All Quiet on the RM front...

and I am suspicious.

Last week I had to spend a couple of days at home, with a migraine. This week I spent a couple of days at home with Mum, who was recovering from a hospital visit (think anaesthetic, tubes and painful).

In between, there was a frenzy of tidying-up and furniture moving. The cats really don't like it when I'm home during working hours, they wonder what I'm up to. And they really hate big upheaval, tidy round by all means but moving furniture? Nooooooo, no, no! So the Mogs retreated to a safe distance and kept their heads down.

So why am I worried?

The last time they were this quiet, we ended up with a feline killing spree which involved several dismembered garden critters, and a goldfish corpse. Reservoir Mogs indeed. I really need to start clearing the box room but this is their last bastion of peace in a cruel Kim-and-Aggie world and I don't want the house turning into an abattoir.

Apparently young Scott over at Everybody Laughed has moved his stuff round and his cats LOVE it. Inadvertently he has created a hi-speed run from kitchen to patio doors, so easy to get some speed up and be halfway down the garden to catch unwary pigeons. Ok, so the last bit is in their dreams, but they are happy with the new arrangement and hey, there are some very stupid pigeons out there.

But my cats know what they like and they don't like change. And Bailey is just worried he'll be moving house again.

I have to go and buy some serious pet bribes now.

It's Official...

...Bailey is staying with me.

James and Angie have agreed that it is for the best.

He seems quite happy about it, the cats are making plans for a 'welcome committee' and I am resigned to never sitting on my sofa again.

So now I'd better put a photo up of the pesky critter, now he's officially one of the gang.

Birthday presents

We all have someone who is difficult to buy for. Scott over at Everybody laughed is such a one.

And it now seems sooo obvious what he wanted. It is a good thing that Ben is on the case.

Ben bought Scott a ukulele.

A Flying V ukulele.

In pink, with a postcard of Miss Hawaii circa 1963 tucked in the strings.

I hadn't acually bought Scott's present at this point (the ukulele upstaged the haggis a bit, at the Burns night supper) but I didn't buy anything ukulele related on Sunday.

This present deserves to enjoy it's moment of glory.

On the 8th Day

On the 8th Day is one of the best places in Manchester.

Even more so now they have answered a big question from last year - is there really such a thing as vegetarian black pudding? A trivial matter in the great scheme of things, but had managed to become a minor obsession.

Misterohsee swore you could buy it, but never actually produced the proof. My first thought was that he'd been at the drink (again). And call me sceptical but let's face it, any product whose main ingredient is animal blood seems veggie-proof.

But this is Lancashire ingenuity at its finest and the Real Lancashire Black Pudding Company have created V-pud.

So, seeing as it is a day for apologies, cheers misterohsee!

Let's start with an apology...

...to Tig.

Dear Tig, sorry to scare you so much, I was doing some exercises. From your horrified expression I realise that you thought I'd died on the floor. Don't worry, I won't be doing that again. You will just have to live with a crocked owner with a bad back, if the sight of me doing some back-stretching exercises is so traumatic.

Sorry, sorry, sorry, now get your claws out of my ankle.