Flock me
I am trying out something new. Actually, it’s not new and I’m not new to it but that’s not the point. I’m blogging for the sake of blogging with this, just to try something out. As you do when you have nothing better to do and Facebook takes an age to load or do anything, like approve the changing my name to what my name actually is instead of the pseudoname I usually use on and about the internet.
This week there will be no work for me. Work that requires proper preparation for and interaction with other humans whom I am not related to anyway. Otherwise, I am working for and dashing about for someone, and from tomorrow, mostly all on my own. But I won’t break into song about it.
Bea
tesco camping kettle with tea bag included
easyjet are shit,
hairy pants,
pissage 6,
and aaarrrhhh…
…are just some of the delightful things that people are looking for on the interweb recently. And then found our site. God knows how – google, you work in mysterious ways.
It may well have seemed like I’ve disappeared of the face of the planet lately – and you’d almost be right. I thought it was just January being fucky, but no – February was pretty screwy too. I was officially made redundant on the 27th – I was offered a slightly different job with the same mad community charity, but decided to take a look around at the job market and basically thumbed my nose at them.
So yeah, Jeremy Kyle and chair sanding has filled my days when I haven’t been for job interviews. You’d be bloody surprised at the amount of time it takes applying for shitty jobs. I thought I was finally going to get my life in order with all this extra free time – but I think it just made it worse! Now I am back in gainful employment, I’m not sure how I’m going to have enough time to fit in my day to day faffing.
I was offered another job straight away with some dull corporate American company as a business analyst. I turned it down because the interviewer was smarmy (a good enough reason on it’s own) and it looked as exciting as watching paint dry there. I may moan about mad community jobs, but they’re actually quite interesting.
The job I really wanted, I didn’t even get an interview for *sob* and one I didn’t think I wanted, I had 2 interviews for and then they left me hanging for 2 weeks to get an answer. Swines. After the first interview they looked quite cool, and I decided I did want that job (it was going around the country installing software and doing training) but 2 weeks of hanging did me in, and forced me to do the following…
…accepting a job back at mad community charity. Humbly.
I had a dark moment, induced by getting the tower in a tarot card reading and all I could imagine was having to get some shit job and renting my house out to 20 other people just to be able to afford the mortgage on minimum wage. I am prone to those dark moments, and they normally pass with the addition of chocolate and hiding under the duvet for a number of hours/days.
All’s well that ends well though. As it turns out, mad community charity are moving their HQ away from Chav Town. Yay! I will now have to split my working week between London and just 100 metres away from The Retreat pub in Stroud (a recipe for not getting much work done in the afternoons due to Fruli excesses, I can tell ya) The downside to all of this is that 5 people have left…and I’m now expected to pick up the day to day running of the place as well as their jobs because the MD is as useful at that stuff as a fart in a tin. Oh deary dear.
Wish me luck. It’s my first day back today – a good start with half the building in darkness due to no electricity and no heating whatsoever. Fwap.
-moosh
A Stroud Pub Trip Review – From Wwwwwwwwwwwwwaaaaay Back!
There a trip over to Stroud recently. I could’ve blogged about this on t’other blog, but the love affair with Blogger was over some time ago. It was a trip to be of many firsts.
I got to have a bit of a nose around Moosh’s lovely little newish house before we hit the Farmers’ Market. I learnt it’s now unwise to mention laminate flooring in Moosh’s presence, specifically the laying of said material. The slightest mutter could lead to several minutes of deranged repetition of the words: “It’s not coming up! It’s not coming up!” Appropriate action in the event of you encountering this phenomenon is to back away and offer tea once the spitting and twitching has eased a little.
As a side note: The garage door should definitely be painted purple with silver strips, join the campaign!
Off we toddled to the Farmers’ Market, that’s incorrect, we drove there. Again, wrong! We were driven there, by the lovely A. Exiting the car with some relief – I thought travel sickness had left me for sunnier climes, but it appears not to be – we marched gently ascended the hill. Neither of us had any specific agenda for the market, just a general nosey around like we normally do. We meandered past the stalls, briefly looking at some and occasionally taking a greater interest in others. Moosh took such a fancy to some Vampire Relish (good with cheese in big sandwiches, apparently) on the garlic stall that she actually bought some, an extremely rare event at the Farmers’ Market for either of us.
Past the crystal and olive stalls (not together) and Over Farm’s stall came into view. There was a bit of a bone-chilling wind blowing that day and the poor solitary guy trying to serve the customers swarming around the produce didn’t look a happy bunny. I was quite happy as there was masses of kale – 85p per branch, or £2 for three bits. I took the 3 for £2 offer. I’ve never witnessed someone with red-looking, frozen fingers trying to struggle to open a carrier bag and shove a large unwieldy stem of kale into it, whilst fighting the wind as well, without any assistance. I would have helped, but this drama was occurring on the other side of the heavily-laden table of veg.
We wandered a little more around and after both buying some russet apples and a bottle of perry (Moosh again), we headed for some warmth and a soothing cup of tea. I had squeezed two cups out of a pot of Earl Grey and Moosh supped at hot chocolate. It was busy in that little place, and I felt a little conspicuous by carrying three rather large bags of kale, which had a chair all to themselves. How this kale was so badly mistreated but also well looked after during its long day out in Stroud.
Revived, we once again headed out and meandered around the usual haunts. I’m almost getting to know and remember the place now. Stroud’s a rather nice place to wander round, somewhat more so when there isn’t a force 9 gale blowing. It’s a busy little place, which on Saturday afternoons, and I suspect school holidays, fills up with gangs of kids, like every other town centre in the country. But there are less chav-types in Stroud than, say, Gloucester.
Soon it came beer time. This is another traditional aspect of any trip to Stroud, but more so on the first and third Saturdays of the month. The pub of choice this time was The Retreat. I couldn’t give you instructions on how to find the place but someone else can.
There was a slight quandary as to what we should start with, and it was very nearly some Kronenberg, but the lore of something different won over and beyond all else. A half each of strawberry beer was bought and tentatively supped for a the first few seconds. It was quickly decided that this was possibly a very girlly beer, but nonetheless utterly delicious.
The Retreat is a nice pub, not a chav in sight on this particular visit. A lively lunchtime crowd, but I could still hold a conversation with Moosh.
(And that was as far as I got, before my brain failed on so many levels. As it has ever since. It did before, but I don’t like to mention that too often. So, due to this post being sat around with no one to read for too long, I’m gonna add the bit of an email Moosh sent me regarding this, and just leave it at that. Unless I should remember certain aspects of it, thanks to the Random Bollockness From Pubs I be writing up.)
The strawberry beer pub was called The Retreat and then mad drunken old incest man pub was called The Queen Vic. Both very nice 
we must do it again sometime (but perhaps without the mad drunken old men this time?)
So, I will be performing a perfume check on you before we leave the house. What is it with you? You attract really mad drunk people! Maybe it’s not your perfume? Do you have this problem when out with Ms PG-Tips?
I think you have to mention the Kale. From the first struggling into the bag by the poor little man, to the carrying around from pub to pub, right down to the eating it for *every* meal for a week. Hehehe. They should ration kale into the small packets, like they do with sugar. Very sensible.
Don’t forget the we just zeros and ones man theory. But that will take some blogging. And possibly more strawberry beer to re-explore the ideas that made sense at the time
OK, well I’m off. Everything’s broken at the moment – the website is broken, the membership database is broken and sending out emails randomly. Gahhhhh. And it’s all up to me to fix. And I don’t have a clue where to start. Feck. Okely-dokely, skype me if you come online before 4.30…
Mostly Bea Whale, with email from Moosh
No! No, no no noooooooooooo!
I’ve been getting these tingles in the neck for the past week or so. No biggy or anything. Just thought I’d see if google had anything to say on the matter – and have just found out that neck tingling is a symptom of the Menopause!
Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!
That’s bloody it. I’ve gone and caught the menopause of my middle-aged colleagues.
Oh fwap.
-moosh
I shouldn’t be doing this
Nope. This is wrong. Anyone with any sense knows it is folly to be engaging in this sort of behaviour at this time. One should step away, well away. But I’m not. Idiot that I am.
Thankfully I haven’t been near eBay or Amazon in a serious sense, just looking, and longing. Other potential points of horror have been avoided too, due to not been in the mood for chat so Skyper’s/MSNer’s/IRCer’s have escaped the badly typed ramblings of a slightly drunken twonk. That be me.
Currently the only other possible embarrassment factor available to me is this internet thing; which is probably for the best. Having someone witness shite singing/dancing/shagging doesn’t bear thinking about.
What I had planned to do was thrown out the window due to equipment failures. But never mind, as if it had gone to plan then I would have stayed up until a ridiculous time and then cursed myself silly due to having to be up and all responsible at a slighty-more-than-sensible-time-than-I-would-like.
I have spent more time at this wonderful newish laptop than I have at any other time today. Mostly doing stuff of no consequence, but I massively suspect that’s what most peeps do anyway, or play games. I lack computer games, something I’m gonna change, due to bugger all else to do. On the whole I’ve faffed around with which set of desktop gadgetry suits me best: Google or Vista. Vista almost won out, til I got annoyed and Googled triumphed. That could be viewed as a general view of the world of the internets all over!
Over and out.
For now. Tomorrow, when recovered from hang over/coughing / lack of sleep / poop wiping(not my own!!!); I will send your way the second part of Random Bollockness From Pubs! Duck now.
