Another case of speaking too soon

The sun has continued to shine meaning that we’ve had a consistent spell of glorious weather. What spirits cannot be lifted by having a decent bout of sunshine and lovely weather.

Today is the day I make it past the four week mark, something that I thought I wouldn’t actually be able to do. Truth be told I’m stuck with it just to prove a point to myself and to the guys who set me up with this position.

Just to give a little bit of background context last year a guy called Jack was doing this very same job. Jack is one of those types who should be in the army as he’s big, muscles but not the sharpest knife in the drawer. constant workout gym routine he would be well to be a labourer. Yet he didn’t make it past a week and a half.

The pub I frequent on the Friday and Saturday is full of builder types and I have a sneaky suspicion that there was a bet that I wouldn’t last more than a week. Anybody who knows me will know that if ever a bet is placed against me I will destroy myself to win no matter what the cost.

So always good up until about 1 PM where we got taken off our normal stretch of road to go in work on one of the busy a Roads in town.

Instead of two of us there was four of us and so in my world this became a competition to see who could do the most amount of land given the two hours allotted to us.

Petrol, check. Twine, check and with a pull of the ripcord my machine rattled into life.

All was going well, I was cutting great swathes of grass with sunder, I was a one man agricultural machine ripping up the hedges and the grass verges with aplomb.

Then just as I was thinking I had survived four weeks things started to go a little bit wrong.

Reaching the quarter mile mark my machine then decided it had no more strimming twine. Normally one of us would have some spare in our pockets but of course on a Friday, nearing home time, this was not the case resulting in a walk with the sun beating down on me in my safety gear back to the van and then back to where we had all stopped. Fortunately one of the other guys had also run out so I didn’t feel too bad that it was just me.

As I was fixing my machine somebody pointed out to me that the petrol was coming out from the. Upon investigation it seems the all important washer to stop fuel leaking and it was no longer there.

Restrung and refuelled I grabbed the pull cord to bring her back to life. Normally she starts to treat without any hassle but no, not on a Friday, as on the final part of the cord came away from the machine.

The bollocking when something like this

“Well you’re just fucking useless, that you might as well have not fucking teamed off and might as well just fuck off home”

With that I picked up my machine I walked another third of a mile back to the van and started to load up.

Needless to say I was feeling pretty dejected at this point. I thought I had cracked four weeks of decent grafting without another major incident and then last thing I get a bollocking through, to be fair, no fault of my own.

The bloke who gave said bollocking actually saw me as I did all of my three checks before going off to do the job.

As I walk back to the van I get a phone call from him to say can I run up to the yard and going get the cord fixed.

If all had gone to plan I was going to have finished by 2 PM today but going to get everything fixed took another hour of the day.

Truth be told I am still a little bit pissed off with the bollocking. I’m not letting going to bug me that much Dave after all I survived, and I do mean survive, longer than anyone gave me credit for.

Getting up at 6:45 AM is actually quite a pleasurable experience. I’ve also learnt that eating something within the first few waking moments of a new day does have a considerable impact on you for the rest of the day. It really does make a huge difference.

We have the best part of a week left on this job I’ve got to say that for the most I really enjoyed the experience of working outdoors and doing something practical rather than being sat at my desk all day looking out the window at the sunshine.

What’s next?

I don’t exactly know I have a little bit of a hankering to try AnD get some work in a city/town environment but that’s for my next blog post.

Work update as requested.

After last weeks calamitous error of crashing the bosses car into the back of the Council van I’m glad to report that I still have a job.


In a bizarre twist of two days later driving at the train. I don’t have any problem is I’m never exactly driven a car with a trailer before. This is made all the more complicated by having a very short axle on the trailer which I’m told makes it a little bit more difficult than normal to do any reversing.

I’ll be the first to admit having a couple of days of driving up and down the road was much better than walking the 4 miles we have to do every day. Granted 4 miles isn’t exactly a big distance to cover that when you are doing the fact you’re carrying a strimmer, wearing all of the safety gear, and the weather is beating dying believe you me it becomes hard work very quickly.

So my day goes a little something like this.

6:45 AM alarm goes off.
7:05 AM for out of bed in agony from my body being so exhausted from the lack of sleep.

7:20 AM after packing my Field baby night before and trying to wake up I’m in the car and on the way to the Depot.

7:45 AM-ish. Go from my car to the Council van with my lunchbox. My lunch box is actually one of those tabs for storage that goes underneath your bed. The reason for this is that by the time you take two bottles of water, your breakfast, Sun tAn lotion antihistamine tablets and insect repellent you end up with quite a hefty amount to carry. But there is the benefit of it having a late so when it does rain all of my stuff is kept dry.

8:15 AM arrive on site, unpack the van into another van, my first whiff of two-stroke petrol in the morning whilst filling up the strimmer wait for the road signs to go out, which everybody ignores, and then start on a quarter mile stretch.

9:30 AM to 9:45 AM-ish. Finally it’s breakfast time. Try as I might I still can’t get into the habit of eating something immediately as I get out of bed. I do cheat a little bit by having a banana smoothie, home-made, and that usually keeps me going till now

10 AM here we go again. Time to do another mile and a half stretch which takes us up to.

12:30 PM-ish. Thank god lunch is about 30 to 40 minutes the distance covered by know is creeping up to the 2 mile points. Normally the sun just happens to be clear on any cloud cover leading to profuse sweating and having a T-shirt you can actually ring the sweat out of.

1 PM-ish the road signs have been changed I which means onto the next stretch of the day which is about another mile and a half. I forgot to mention when I say a mile and a half it’s actually 3 miles because you have to walk up one side and back down the other.

3:15 PM time to pack up. Road signs get dismantled, gear goes back into the van and then it’s the 20 minute drive back to the yard.

4 PM I’m back in my car and on the way home.

4:45 PM-ish. Time for a sit down and cup of tea, perhaps a quick nap.

5 PM. Walking time, about another mile of walking which takes 45 minutes going downhill right now because I’m absolutely knackered by this point

5:30 PM realise that I fell asleep, pastimes from all the manual work and start thinking about what to have for tea.

6 PM finally I can get changed
out of my work close into slightly more less rank smelling clothing.

6:30 PM start cooking dinner. Although it’s not just a case of cooking for the evening I have to get my breakfast ready for the morning as well along with what ever I’m going to have for lunch

7 PM, set a reminder to feed dogs.

7:45 PM finally have my tea

8 PM Time for another quick walk with the dogs

9 PM. Get back from dog walking, get all my work gear ready for the morning, park the car up and then finally I get to sit down in front of the idiot box

9:05 PM get bored with the television.

9:15 PM decide I’m going to catch up on shows that I’ve downloaded. Often this and that me being dragged into doing things like paperwork or updating my website.

9:30 PM try and fail to do website work. Or I often end up discovering yet another bug on my website design. This then leads onto looking for a no then you WordPress theme for about 45 minutes and realising, yet again, most WordPress themes are complete rubbish.

9:35 PM decide to have a glass of wine.

10:15 PM I realise now that I’m absolutely knackered and need to get into bed soon.

10:45 PM my weary carcass finally gets into bed.

11 PM try to drift off to the land of nod. This normally fails

12:05 AM finally I get to sleep if I’m lucky

Eat, sleep, strim, repeat

Crash bang wallop

Well it’s taken two weeks and one day to have my first major fuck up. I’m trailing behind the main work vehicle at a Junction and I saw him start to move off. Looking right I started to move off and instead of ending up in the road I managed to climb into the back of the work van.

The situation is obviously made worse by the van being the boss is fine. Granted it’s a really old Skoda type van but that’s not the point.

Needless to say I feel sick at the thought of going into work today. Best case scenario I get a major bollocking and I won’t be allowed to drive a vehicle again, worst case scenario: sacked.

After two weeks and one day of getting up at 6:45 and then pretty much working right through till 4 PM in the open air my body is now starting to feel it.

Granted there have been some positives, I’ve lost weight and even my hairdresser commented that my face look thinner a.k.a. I don’t look as fat.

Another plus side is that I’m eating way more healthier than I have done in perhaps the last year or two. That does come with a downside of when I get home and cook my tea and then also cooking my lunch for the next day and so I’m on my feet for about another two hours cooking.

I’m not entirely sure where I’m using all my time but I do know that it’s 10 PM before I can even start thinking about unwinding and relaxing.

Getting into bed for 11 PM but not being able to drop off before midnight definitely isn’t helping the situation any.

: The work for the majority of the time is quite enjoyable. It’s hard, sweaty, dirty work and a far cry from what I’ve done so far but I’m glad that I’ve taken a diversion for four weeks to be able to work outside and appreciate a summer.

With only just over a week and a half to go before it looks like I have to sign back on I’m going to make the most of it.

Well, that’s if I don’t get sacked for the second time this year.

Friday evening MUsing

In my now temporary four-week life of cutting hedges on the trunk road
My area get quite a lot of time to have a good old think.

If the truth be told I’m actually quite enjoying doing this sort of work. Wage saying as the “other” job that was offered to me and then subsequently taken away but ultimately this is way more fulfilling. Perhaps it’s because we get quite a lot of downtime lol.

Anyways the one thoughts that has been plaguing my mind is the fact I’m never going home again.

Imagine that for a seconds. The place where you grew up and the family that you is all of a sudden gone.

Granted that perhaps most people reading this are in long-term relationships now but it should still be quite a thought experiment.

This is what hitting me hard this week is knowing that with dad gone I’m never going to go back to the village he lived in.

Although I always felt a little bit out of place and out of sync with the village I knew that’s where my dad lived. To be told for some reason I never felt comfortable or settled there.

I honestly can’t put my finger on this strange feeling I get when I went back there. I mean why would I? Its not like I spent a significant part of my life there.

I only have a few scarce childhood memories of living back in the village. My main one being at the age of five or six my mum taking me to school in a white car asking me who I wanted to live with, her or dad. What a decision to have to make at such a young age

If it’s anything like my last 10 years of decision-making that was one hell of a bad choice.

Anyways when dad told me a couple years ago that he was going to build a small extension to give me a home I finally felt that was the right time to go home. That’s where my half sister was, my dad and I felt like for once I might have been able to be part of my family for once.

The plan was that whilst my dad’s wife and my half sister were on holiday we would build this and I would move in so there would be no objections.

Being slap bang by The M5 and the M4 It would also mean my job opportunities would exponentially increase. I spoke to dad about all of this two weeks before his untimely demise.

With him gone my dream and his dream was gone as well but like I said to him he was always going to go and leave something unfinished.

Is it better to have a dream and to risk having a dream taken away from you or not to dream at all?

Little updates.

Where to start? Okay so it looks like any possible adventures with the doctor has no being kicked into touch. Despite my best efforts asking leading questions that invite conversations all I’m getting are quick to word answers.

Snelly you are the master of this sort of stuff so if you have any suggestions let me know. AP has once again been fantastic supporting me in my latest disastrous attempts to try and flirt with a member of the opposite sex.

Anyone else ever get those days where sometimes you feel that you don’t have much luck with this sort of thing because it’s the way you look and if you get past that hurdle send me your personality takes a vacation?

Next up on the agenda is Marlin financial services. This is going to be a topic into itself but hopefully I found a forum with some good advice to try and ended dispute about a credit card I had back in 2007.

In yet more legal manglings I have to decide whether or not to accept the offer given to me from my dads wife solicitors or is to dig my heels in.

Right now 2014 has given me its fair share of kickings so there is a small, very small temptation to take some money, find a plot of land, I’m stick a caravan on it. It’s just a shame the money I’m being offered wouldn’t even buy a reasonably nice new car.

But for once though I’m going to end on a good night and update you with my latest adventures in strimming.

That’s right, in a complete departure from my usual work I’m now subcontracted to the council strimming

Coincidence? Two years ago today

Two years ago today I was told that my dad had passed away. Perhaps I should feel bad that I didn’t remember it was today instead I found out by the mighty power of Facebook.

If I’m honest I find it really upsetting that both my half sister and her mum seem to have completely denounced me from ever being part of the family.

On their Facebook page there have been hundreds of comments and wishing you well and all of their thoughts are with them etc etc and yet despite posting in that thread, nobody has said a word to me.

So today I think I might have realised that all of the time is dad said “he doesn’t want any fighting” it was always at me but now I realise it wasn’t. Perhaps it was what he wanted to say to her but couldn’t.

Whilst I’m in the mood for full disclosure basically she’s trying to take me to the cleaners.

She’s undervalued both properties that dad had.

She gave away all of dads possessions without telling anyone.

Antique guns were given as a gift to dad’s brother but then miraculously destroyed when I asked for a valuation.

She put in a claim to say there was no life insurance yet I know for a fact there was.

And you know something, I words of letter have her own way if only she had decided and chosen to be nice to me.

I would’ve happily taken all of this on the chin if she remains polite and in contact with me but in the two years since my dad passed away I have never heard anything from her. Christmas cards, and a birthday cards, anything despite every year me sending them both a card.

I have a problem with my solicitor as well I think, yes I know that might come as a shock to some people that I have a problem with someone I honestly don’t feel that we’re fighting. The solicitor just seems to be leaving it up to me to do my research and come up with ideas rather than her doing any guiding whatsoever.

Like I said in a previous post this matter is it going to be helped by her emigrating to New Zealand and being left with her colleague who is a trainee with regards to will intestacy

As now for something completely different and very odd.

During what was going to be unbeknownst to be one of my last visit back home I ended up meeting a woman called Gemma.

Gemma happened to be one of the nurses working in the emergency ward on the very day that dad was taken to hospital.

We met up, talked, shared a KFC that was about it.

Yesterday I had a match on Tinder, the application which is a never ending carousel of shallowness personified.

Guess what, she’s a doctor.

If I didn’t think any different I would think that dad is having a little bit of a chuckle with me

The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away’?

I can’t remember if I blogged about this but it’s a couple of months ago I got stopped in my car outside my local Tesco. The problem with buying a car from a boy racer is there will be a few issues.

In this case said boy racer had decided to fix the sidelights with LED lights. One of these had an intimate thoughts and of course that intermittent fault up to happen the moment the police came around the corner.

Long story short I was caught without a valid MOT certificate.

Anyway the good news is that after a few weeks of waiting I received, for once, I nice letter from my local police station who looked at my case and have decided that “I’ve learnt my lesson”

Happy days! Whilst a £60 fines wouldn’t be exactly the end of the world is still a bit of a financial burden that I could kill afford.

Now the Lord’s taketh away.

As I’ve said many times before the nights that tend to be sleepless are often, somehow, a sign of impending bad news.

My track record with this has been fairly impeccable in this regard. I’ve been looking at ways that this might be coming subdental, looking at my diets, had I been drinking, perhaps I’ve had a cuppa tea too late at night.

Sadly no. I know how this sounds. It sounds like the ramblings of a mad person trying to justify sleepless nights or perhaps an attaching to events together that have no causality.

The first time I became aware of this was the night before my father sadly passed away. Also yesterday it was his birthday. God bless you dad, rest in peace.

Anyways back to the main point of this story. It seems that the grip of Bluestone hasn’t relinquished its control of me just yet.

Letter one was from the jobs seekers allowance stating that my claim is under review due to the circumstances of the termination of my employment with Bluestone.

I know exactly who is responsible for this and if Nuttallia Miles ever does a search on her name then hopefully she will see this blog post and realise what a cow she is being. This is a woman who has no professionality what’s the weather instead uses her family’s influence within the company to climb up the ranks.

I kid you not. I mean what company would take on a woman who is four months pregnant as a PA to one of the main directors of the company and then five months later is a senior HR officer working next to the financial controller?

so this leaves me worrying about my jobseekers allowance.

Letter number two.

For some reason the council have decided I am no longer eligible for single person occupancy discount. I realise that the economic Times are still harsh but classing my cats as my partner seems to be taking things a bit far.

Not that any of this has made me paranoid you understand. If you look back at a previous entry where the sister of my landlady is now trying everything she can to get the house that I live in I wonder if this is 1+1 equals two or just purely circumstantial?

I can completely understand where the council come from in many ways. There must be a boatload of people trying to game the system I’m trying to get more than they are entitled to.

That reminds me, letter three.

The battle for my dad is inherent in C continues. This week instead of trying to give me a third of which I am legally entitled to she’s trying to jot that down to a fifth.

I need to find out where I stand legally about hair selling or giving away any possessions in the house whilst there is still a battle of intestacy.

The way I see things right now is that I can’t back down. I have nothing and if I lose I will have nothing so I will have lost nothing but she stands to lose a lot more than I do.

The final cuts this week came and the last paragraph of the above letter.

My solicitor who I haven’t really been that happy with but she is the only one I know of qualified to deal with this sort of matter also told me that she’s going to be leaving to emigrate to New Zealand.

This puts me in the hands of the rather lovely but rather upper-middle-class Samantha. Samantha was my original solicitor that passed me on to Catherine because Katherine has more experience in these matters.

My main worry here is that I’ve gone from a week solicitor to an even weaker solicitor and believe me dads widow is playing extremely hardba

A sure fire thing.

What is it whenever I choose that for once I’m going to go with my instincts, my instincts completely fail me and I don’t know what way to turn?

So in my last post I was griping about the fact a company had offered me a job for 7 pounds an hour doing work which was at least worth double that.

Having nothing to lose because I believed I had another job which was a surefire thing I played a bit of a stalling game after I asked for a pay rise. I do know the job was advertised at 1002 1500 per month and he only offered me 7 pounds

Whilst away camping he decides to text me and withdraw his offer.

Relaxing in the knowledge that there was a high probability of getting a job outside for two months I wasn’t exactly worried about this although I had been second-guessing myself if to take that work.

Come to the following conclusion on that job. I don’t mind doing the job for minimum wage as long as it’s something different but when someone tries to actively pay you half of your hourly rates for all of your skills, expertise, inputs and increasing profitability then I felt on moral line had to be drawn.

So the second job was going out and cutting hedge rows for the next two months. The last few weeks I’ve checked in with the guy and he says “it shouldn’t be a problem”, I’ll get paperwork drawn up, I’ll make a phone call and then last night guess what.

It seems that the company which had many, many unreliable people who would work a week and then bugger off is now okay for staff.

Loads of these situations one thing I’ve learnt is that for some reason I have a temporary paralysis and become unable to think when it comes to making a big decision.

also it’s being a good lesson in learning just how much people are willing to settle for things. I asked a few people I know what should I do, should I have taken the job for 7 pounds and work for half and my hourly rate just because it’s a job. 9/10 people (as to statistic) said yes. Is that then mean those nine people if the boss came up to them and said we can only afford to pay you half of what we’re paying you now would accept it’s because it’s a job?

if so that brings up a very worrying president. We all know with consumer electronics it’s always a race to the bottom to get the market share but is this same effect happening in the workplace?

I mean people will quite happily pay over and above for a car because of its perceived value and to them because it’s worth it. Yet with business, jobs and employment it seems to be completely different.

I guess I’ve just reached the heart of the arguments as to why I wasn’t happy doing that job for the money he was offering. If you were to look at your job now, the two people who read this now, what would be the absolute minimum you would be prepared to work for?

Why am I unhappy about this?

So Word has just come through that I’ve been offered a job for which I went for an interview on Wednesday.

It’s for an online company sorting out their website and basically cutting through all the bollocks they want me to increase their click through rates on purchases.

This is going to be something of a task because I have a lot of great ideas but I’m not sure if he’s willing to invest in the tools needed for the job

During my interview he grilled me for a couple of hours about my e-commerce experience and I told them bluntly I like rated my own company and it was making a small fortune when I left.

So far, so good you might be thinking. What’s the problem?

At the age of 37 I really don’t want to work for a lowly 7 pounds an hour.

If I accept the job this means I am valuing myself and what I can do at a very low figure and he’s already decided what that’s what he wants to pay.

On the website for the job posting he was willing to pay 1100 to 1500 per month.

If this was my only job option then I would just roll over and accept it but on this occasion I already have some work lined up at the end of the month.

I can’t tell if I’m cutting off my nose to spite my face here or not. It’s just that I know what I can do is worth a hell of a lot more than 7 pounds an hour and then he’s going to be making hell of a lot more than that from the work that I do.


Why do weekends still feel like weekends?


It’s another Saturday evening and here I am sat in the middle of a disused airfield walking the dogs and daft as it may seem it feels like the weekend.

Being unemployed means I get to spend most of my time at home. More often than not the days simply blend together and I can’t actually tell what day it is at times up until it becomes the weekend.

When I was working in Dubai the working week was from Sunday to Thursday meaning that finally and Saturday night was the weekend. It’s a little bit hard to wrap your head around it out first making a Saturday into Sunday but it works.

Whilst pretty much the rest of the world is having that day off, working on Sunday really that you catch up and get ahead of things.

As I’ve started this blog post I’m actually finding it incredibly hard to say what’s going through my mind, just in case you hadn’t guessed.

I can’t explain it but I just feel more worse off at the weekend. Granted I’m in an almost privileged position where I don’t have to crawl out of bed at 7 AM on a Monday morning but still.

Maybe it comes down to this. In the week when you’re keeping yourself busy you don’t have time to miss that social elements or miss wanting to spend time with someone special. That’s where it is the time to be so sure there is no one to be social with.

As I’m not making any sense I think I will cut this blog post short and try to articulate myself better later on.


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