Knix & Knacks!

Summer in the City

2011-08-06T15:17:00.000-04:00

Battered and Bruised

2011-07-16T19:24:00.002-04:00

There’s a lot to be said about that “new car smell”. Just the words itself conjure up images of a sleek dashboard filled with shiny gadgets and gizmos; the upholstery, smooth and cool to the touch, free of any snags and rents; the door handles, gleaming to the touch, not a sticky fingerprint anywhere in sight.

And although one cannot deny the appeal of objects shiny and new, there are some things whose appearance and appeal – I find – vastly improve with age. Books are at the top of that list.

It’s not just penny pinching that drives me repeatedly to the bosom of the second hand bookstore. Call it silly, but I actually enjoy reading a book more if it is an old battered copy rather than a pristine version from the shelves of a big soul-destroying chain store. To me, the old copy indicates readership; the many hands and hearts before me that have lapped up the words and lost themselves in the storyline. I am not a fan of notes scribbled in the margins, as I feel that one should be allowed to explore the story without outside influence or prejudice. I do however love picking up books that have a personal message or dedication on the front page; it makes me feel connected with the previous owner. Which is also why when I receive a book as a gift, I always ask the gifter to add in a wee personal message so that I will always have an association of the book with that person.

Some of the books I own are so battered that they are literally in need of medical aid as they are falling apart. When that happens, I hand them over to my mum who has been head nurse in charge of book care since I was a wee one. She has somehow managed to staunch the bleeding of the worst tears and has managed to rebuild most of badly cracked spines. Where book restoration is concerned, she is the Guru.

And, no matter how much the large chain stores will beckon, I will not be easily swayed. Clearly, I am not the only one.

Again

2011-07-14T16:46:00.044-04:00

There have been bomb blasts in my home city of Mumbai. Again.

Two years ago, we all watched in horror and disbelief as gunmen took over various points in the city taking people hostage for several days. The reports that come through on the TV seemed more like a video game than a real life situation. Before that, there was train bombings. Several of them over a few years. Before that, there were riots, burnings, looting, mass killings and more bomb blasts.

Each time, both local and international media sprung into action. Around the world, expats frantically punched in telephone numbers trying to get in touch with loved ones. We watched the news reports and read every article about the event. There was much discussion, lamenting, anger.

This time, nothing.

My dad texted me with the news. I went onto the BBC website and read the report, then read it again later in the day when there were more details. There was a sense of apathy as I read. Like I've heard all of this before and been through the motions. It wasn't much talked about when I got him and in fact we spent more time discussing the fall out from the phone hacking scandal in the UK.

There was a point where I felt a twinge of guilt. Was I supposed to be sadder? And it wasn't just me I realised. Mumbai, and by extension India as a whole seemed to have shrugged off the incident and moved on. Did that mean people were carelessly indifferent? And, does indifference necessarily have to be a bad thing? The cowards behind attacks like these are looking to cause chaos and fear. But, they are also looking to milk the aftermath of the media attention for their own cause. Taking their cues from the Hollywood A-listers, they know that the more people talk about them the more power they have to cause fear.

What would happen if no one paid any attention? I wonder.

How to Build a New County

2011-07-09T15:08:00.037-04:00

So map makers all over the world woke up to the reality of an Africa redefined. They're going to have to tear up old prints and draw new borders to accommodate the world's newest country South Sudan. The news was full of the hope and possibility for this new nation; the chance to establish stability in a region that has been plagued by civil war and conflict.

The news was full of the unfolding events and every station had all sorts of analysts and media pundits putting their own spin on the situation while I just wondered how soon it would take Lonely Planet to come up with a South Sudan version.

One news segment in particular caught my attention. The analyst was talking about the very practical aspects of "setting up a new country". She mentioned things like deciding on colours for a flag, choosing a national anthem, deciding on a currency and so on. Laughing, she mentioned that sometimes a simple thing like applying for an international dialing code could sometimes slow down the entire process.

I found just a wee bit reassuring to know that us tiny folk aren't the only people getting jerked around by the phone companies!

The End

2011-06-25T14:52:00.015-04:00

I am writing this sitting in my bedroom in the T Dot.

Everything around me is familiar and yet strange. Perhaps it is because my head is still reeling from the events of the past 4 days and my body is still fighting Eastern Standard Time. So much has happened that I hardly know where to begin.

In between the bouts of jet lag, I feel anger. Rage. Sadness. Disbelief. Grief. And about a hundred other emotions that I cannot even fully comprehend right now.

Sometime, soon I will have a story to tell. But for now I am too heartsick. Too homesick.

Mid Way and Lots of Plans

2011-06-03T08:51:00.023-04:00

Bloody Hell! How did we already get to June? Wasn't I only just making new year resolutions? And speaking of, I do believe I've managed to do *quite* well with those this year. (Go me!)

Mid way through 2011 and so much has happened.... and the exciting part is that there is even more to come!

I wrap up work in a week's time as my visa expires on the 18th. Then, I have 4 glorious months of travel and adventures in store. Starting off with a 10 day visit to Iceland next week. Iceland! (Thrill). Parental visit follows right after and I'm so excited about that. Haven't seen them in two years and I'm just dying to show them around G Town and introduce them to my pals. I've all sorts of plan for when they're here: G Town and Edinburgh of course, rambles in the highlands, possibly Isle of Skye, a wee trip down to London where we can meet up with Drama and Dutch Boy. Lots to see and do!

Then, I'm heading off to Italy for two weeks to work at a summer camp just outside of Turin. Very much like what I did last year, just in a different part of the world. A nice HOT and SUNNY part of the world!

I'm back in Scotstown just in time for August and the Fringe festival. Even better this year as I know so many of the comedians who will be performing there. Coz really, you're not a true groupie until you've been to a world famous festival and gotten into gigs for free coz the peeps at the door have recognised you and waved you in! (extract from the International Groupie Handbook; 2011 edition)

As if the Fringe isn't enough excitement for August, Gingersnap and I are also heading off to the Emerald Isle for a week's road trip. Starting off in Northern Ireland with a few days at the Gingersnap family home, we'll make our way down and around stopping off at various Paddy pubs and bars along the way. Much fun is anticipated.

To wrap up the summer, blogger friend Jules and I are thinking about a Grecian getaway for a week in early September. Which, if I can pull off, would be the perfect end to both the summer and my overall time here in the UK as I'm planning to be back in the T Dot for mid September for my mum's 60th birthday.

For now.... everything begins with Iceland! Can't hardly wait!

Commandments for (Social) Life

2011-05-29T14:44:00.026-04:00

Hear Ye, all the Facebook faithful. Read and obey:

1. Thou shalt not pepper my news feed with mundane status updates. What you had for dinner/lunch/snack time, the fact that you are now going to bed and that you've just showered are not in the least bit interesting and should not be shared with the rest of the world.

2. Some of you have decided to reproduce, that is a fine and valid choice. Do not however, inflict the hourly activities of your offspring onto the rest of the FB world. We do not care in the least that little Johnny has just done a poo, or had burped or has spit up. Updates like that make the rest of us want to spit up as well. That being said, if little Johnny or Jenny or Balthazar has done something momentous like taken a first step or shoplifted for the first time (and got away), by all mean, feel free to share.

3. If you are going to post about the weather, at least try and be creative about it. Merely stating "It's hot/cold/rainy/windy/snowing" etc. is both boring and unnecessary. I can look out my window and see for myself.

4. Using abbreviations when texting is considered acceptable, but that does not mean you can use text messaging language and terms on here. Also poor spellings and appalling grammar is inexcusable. If you don’t know how to spell something, look it up. I do. (mostly). And, replacing "s" with "z" in a word does not make you urban and cool. It makes you look like a cool, urban wannabe.

5. PDAs are bad enough. But when you clutter my feed with inane banter ‘tween you and your coochie-coo when all the while you’re sitting two feet away from him/her in the same room, THAT is more than I can tolerate. Stop it.

6. If you join a group or event that already has a pre designated purpose, kindly do not clutter their feed/wall with information or adverts for your own gain. That is just plain rude. If I wanted to know about 50% off dancing midgets for this Saturday night, I would have joined their group instead.

7. We get it. You're popular. You go out clubbing/drinking/partying a LOT. But, if almost every single photograph that you are tagged in shows you beary eyed, with a drink in your hand and along with an equally drunken posse, then perhaps you should think about a stint at the Betty Ford clinic. Just saying.

8. If I've deleted you off my friend's list once, really, WHY would I want you back on? Quit sending me requests. It's just emphasising your neediness and making me all the more resolved not to want you in my life.

9.Just because I do not repost comments/status updates about pleas for cancer cures does not mean I am indifferent to the situation. Posting status updates for an hour about remembering lost loved ones and the likes does nothing concrete. Going out into the world and DOING something - planning a fundraiser, spending quality time with patients and their families, volunteering time towards a cause - THAT is real and valid help.

10. People who constantly moan that Facebook is silly, trivial and mundane and keep threatening to leave, but in fact are still on and judging by their updates clogging my news feed, are actually rather active users! Quit being so la-di-dah and uppity and jump in and splash around with the rest of the riff raff!

A Groovy Kind of Love

2011-05-23T10:41:00.007-04:00

We are all familiar with the sequence. Boy meets girl, girl meets boy. There is an attraction, they date. And perhaps they live happily ever after or else they split up and the cycle begins all over again. After an appropriate interval where broken hearts/wounded feelings mended with the help of copious amounts of ice cream eating of course!

That is exactly how things started out with Wookie.

We met last December at one of the comedy nights where I managed to make a complete tit of myself. Shockingly, that didn’t put him right off and over the next few weeks there was more talking (mostly on my part) and subtle flirting continued. He finally made his move one night as we walked home post comedy which resulted in a most lovely snogging session. The lad didn’t have much chat, but it turns out he had a talented tongue regardless. We made plans to meet on New Year’s Eve after he was done work, but thanks to a longer than usual shift (him), a dead phone battery (me) and general New Year’s Eve madness, that didn’t pan out. Feeling guilty about the whole fiasco, he contacted me the next morning and we made plans to meet up after I was back from Berlin. He suggested going to the Stand, which was actually quite nice; we both liked comedy and I’d never been there before. It was a perfect evening. Lots of laughs thanks to the stellar line up, an equal amount of private jokes between us two; meeting up with fellow comedy lovers and heading out to a pub post show and of course, more of that talented tongue. So when he called to set up another date for that Sunday, of course, I was more than happy.

And that’s where it all went so very wrong.

For starters, he showed up more than 20 minutes late. There was no explanatory text/phone message to give me a heads up and no apology when he finally did get there. Fortunately, I had a book with me and so I didn’t really notice the passage of time. I did however notice a couple of sympathetic glances from the serving staff who, no doubt have seen their share of poor stood up folk. Seated at the table, he was far more interested in focusing on his phone rather on me. I got staccato responses to my questions and no eye contact. At one point I even stopped talking mid sentence and started counting silently to see how long it would take him to notice the silence: I got to 11. To add insult to injury, he mentioned that he intended to head over to his parents place that evening and had a train to catch in an hour. I took that as a not to subtle request to eat faster so that he could get out of there. Upset and rather frustrated by the total opposite of our previous date and the entire sham of an afternoon, I choked down my meal as quickly as possible. We parted at the street corner and I walked back to my flat in a rage.

Not even a half hour later, he pops up on Facebook chat; GoodNews! My parents are here, so I’m getting a lift down to their place. Wonderful, I responded. And then, because I had nothing to lose and I was still hopping mad I added, Let’s just hope you’re better company for them than you were for me today. Nothing for a while, then I got a Whatever do you mean? which, Reader, was JUST the opening I had been looking for. I spewed out all of my rage and frustrations on to that chat message, holding nothing back. For the next hour or so, we chatted back and forth furiously, both attacking and defending. He claimed he was nervous. I said I was too. He said I was forceful, I said he was confusing. He said I didn’t know anything about football, I said that wasn’t even a reasonable statement. And so it went on until we were both out of steam. Look, let’s just forget about the whole thing and move on with our lives, was my final comment. He agreed, we both signed off and I imagined that I would never hear from him again and perhaps see him only occasionally at comedy events where there were enough other people around for us not to have to converse.

How wrong I was!

We ended up chatting online the next day. And the day after, and the day after that as well. In fact, since that fateful “date” not a single day went by without us chatting online or trading a barrage of text messages. We met at comedy. We met outside of comedy. By then, I had started to plan the fundraiser night and he ended up helping me out in little ways; introducing me to his sister who agreed to come photograph the event, running errands to pick up raffle prizes from around the city and sometimes just listening to me rant about various things that were driving me insane. We talked about everything. With other people he was shy to the point of playing mute. Yet, with each other we were never at a loss for words. I told him about the entire fiasco with Beans and he told me about the girl he’d been crushing on for the past six months. We plotted over ways to get her to realise his existence. He declared that I’d gone long enough without football in my life, and I became Padwan to his Jedi Master. And that is how it has been for these past five months.

Sometimes, the memory of those kisses return. But there is no lingering on a “what if.” I know that this is the better way. Had we not had that disaster date, there may have been a few more meetings, a few more kisses, perhaps even sex. But that is where it would have ended. I am sure of it. I do not want a long term relationship right now and he is not ready for one either. A long term friendship however, we can both handle just fine. Our friends joke about us being a couple and yes, it does seem so; all the hallmarks of a relationship just minus the physical intimacy. And yes, there is love: a lot of it in fact. Somehow, Wookie has managed to make me open up again and trust in love again. Perhaps the next time, I will be ready to go that one step further. But for now, I am happy with this kind of love. And when alls said and done, he is so handy when it comes to the changing of the light bulbs!

Epic Fail

2011-05-19T18:37:00.036-04:00

About a month ago, Beer Baron emailed me about making a potential trip out to Scotland. After a few emails back and forth to confirm availability, within a few days his tickets were booked and *boom* just like that - I was finally having my first T Dot visitor! Full of plans for what we would do when he got here, I made sure to book a few days off work so that I could show him around, hang out together and generally do a lot of catching up over the past two years.

The night before he arrived, I was at the comedy club as usual. When I made to head home after the show, my pals pulled me back pooh poohing my efforts to leave citing that since I had the day off on the morrow, I was duty bound to stay out with them that night. I'll be honest, it didn't take much persuasion. We headed to our usual watering hole on main street which was followed by a wee stint at the casino. Because apparently, 3am was too early to head home to bed.

Post casino (and a few more rounds), Roo and I were last men standing and we stumbled in a homeward direction. Roo professed hunger and because I was CLEARLY not thinking straight, I told him he could come over and I'd make him a sammich. (Note: I make darn good sammiches. Even at odd hours of the morning) Roo took me up on that, came over and ate and drank his way through two sammiches, crisps, some of Flatmate's beer and ginger cookies. About half way though his feast, I went off to bed telling him to shut the door behind him when he left. I figured, I could get at least two hours of shut eye before I had to head off to the airport to meet Beer Baron who's flight was scheduled to land at 8:30am.

Oh. The mistake.

The alarm rang, I turned it off and slept soundly right until 9:30 until Flatmate happened to drop something in the kitchen and startle me awake. Upon which I leaped out of bed and dialed BB's cell phone frantically. Turns out, he had made his way over to the city centre and was trying to figure out the underground. I told him I'd pick him up at my station.

Dragging on some jeans and runners, I brushed my teeth, ran my fingers through my hair and made my way to the station to sit and wait for my friend. Gone were the grand plans of meeting him at the arrival hall with a great big hug and escorting him back to the flat. Instead, I sat in the corner of the station looking like a bag lady and with the stench of yesterday's alcohol seeping out of my every pore.

When Beer Baron did arrive, there was still a great BIG hug waiting. At least I couldn't screw that up! And then, I took him home and made him a sammich.

Nothing But the Truth?

2011-05-15T11:35:00.007-04:00

On the heels of my previous post about "whole truths", I started to wonder about expanding that concept to other parts of my life. Parents teach their kids that honesty is the best policy, and then proceed to undermine that lesson with the infusion of little white lies. Eat your vegetables or else the monster will get you, You can't watch cartoons because the TV is broken, This is not going to hurt at all.

And why stop with just the kids? The tendency to infuse these lies into everyday living seems to increase exponentially as we grow older. Nice haircut, I can't make it, am feeling under the weather, It's not you, it's me!!

Of course, I understand full well why we all season our conversation with these wee white lies, and the consequences of everyone speaking the truth every time all the time has already been explored quite thoroughly. Still, I did wonder about the consequences of total and utter honesty in one area of life that for many is the centre of their very universe of being.

I speak of course of Facebook.

What would happen if status updates read Horny beyond belief and desperate for a shag. Or perhaps a comment on a photo that says, That's your baby? Wow, he got your husband's gigantic nose, didn't he? Or a post on a friend's wall stating, Yes, we KNOW you two are fucking cute and totally soul mates and everything. But do you have to post that on his wall? Can't you just turn to him and say it so that it doesn't show up on my newsfeed???

What? I'm just being HONEST!

Wheeling and Dealing

2011-05-11T20:28:00.034-04:00

As if I wasn't already eyeball deep in the fantasy world of Westeros (am now on book 5), Wookie recently introduced me to another feature of the series; the Game of Thrones board game. Given that it is strategy based and requires players to think about three turns ahead a la chess mode, it goes without saying that I'm totally rubbish at it. But Wookie is desperate for more people to learn to play this game, so he waved aside all protests about my inherent rubbishness re anything requiring sneaky strategy moves and proceeded to tutor me in the basics.

We've played it twice now and although I got royally thumped both times, he insists I'm learning and doing better. Me thinks he just needs me as a player. More importantly, he needs my friends.

So we have a deal.

I put together game nights with my pals and he buys the beer and downloads movies for me and comes round to change my lightbulbs. It's a win-win!

The Whole Truth

2011-05-10T18:20:00.000-04:00

It struck me the other day just how much about my personal life I post on here. Although I have done my best to stick to using pseudonyms and deleting all identifiable photos and references, the veil is but paper thin and anyone with even the tiniest bit of detective skills will be able to pierce through.

Call it a new wave in personal confession, but I know that especially when I am troubled, sad, angry or upset, writing about it always seems to make me feel better. And when it comes to the happy and exciting times, I want to put it down on the blog just so that I have a reminder of the crazy, mad, wonderful things in my life that make giggle on the bad days.

Many of my friends and even other blog buddies have cautioned me about this; told me to stick to neutral topics and leave out items of deep personal nature. But I cannot. True, that would be a better and more effective smoke screen, but it would also end up hiding so much of who I am. I'm sure "real" authors are able to do it all the time; write about versions of themselves. As I am merely a fake one (author, that is) I'm going to have to carry on with the only way I know how. With the Whole Truth. And nothing but.

And per chance I do get "found out", well, it's no biggie. There's nothing on here that's fake or made up. If someone comes looking for me, well that's just what they're going to find.

On Mother's Day

2011-05-08T10:21:00.007-04:00

Always on the look out to make a bit of extra cash, I picked up a couple of shifts working over the weekend at the Scottish Exhibition and Conference Centre (SECC) here in G Town. It wasn’t until I showed up for my first shift yesterday morning that I realised the event in question was the annual Girls Day Out weekend, Scotland’s biggest health, lifestyle, fashion and beauty event. Two things immediately came to mind; 1. Holy Hell, there’s going to be a LOT of oestrogen packed into this place and 2. Just how much of a crap girl am I that I didn’t even have the slightest inkling that something as big as this event was happening!

At this stage, Dear Reader, you should know that there is nothing even remotely “girly” about me. I don’t pay attention to clothes… or fashion in general; my idea of make up is a tube of chap stick and I’ve owned a hair straightener for about 3 years but still cannot really get my hair properly unwavy each time I use it. Mainly because I’m too afraid of burning my ears. But that’s a story for a whole other blog post. For now, just pop in the mental picture of a straight talking, no make up wearing, plain dressing girl suddenly surrounded by the largest number of women she has EVER seen together in one place at one time.

It was rather interesting watching the long lines stream past me. Women of all ages, shapes and sizes. Fashionable ones and fake tanned ones. Carefully coiffed ones and carelessly dressed ones. Moms with daughters, Sisters with Mothers and Grandmothers, Gaggles of Girl Friends…. all out for a day of fun together.

I found myself focusing on the more carefully put together women. For some, looking good seemed effortless. How did they know to match that top with those jeans? And how do they get their hair to fall in such bountiful curls? Even my colleagues were very well put together young ladies who had eyed me with blatant disbelief as I tumbled into the staff room, hot and sweaty from the 30 minute walk from home with windswept hair and sensible (read non cute) shoes.

For the most part, I am comfortable in my skin and very happy with being me. Still, every now and then I do feel a twinge of regret re the whole “girly-ness” issue. My mum is just as bad as I am, worse even and I’ve often wondered if I would have benefited from her teaching me how to do my hair, or wear makeup or properly wield hair straighteners.

But that regret usually lasts just moments. I usually shake out my unruly mane, stick my hands into my non fashionable jeans and focus instead on all the things that she DID teach me.

Honesty. Loyalty. Friendship. Love.

Just a few examples of her life lessons. I guess she wasn’t so focused on teaching me to be a good girl. Instead, she tried to teach me how to be a good person. So much better than being able to tie a French braid, don’t you think?

To The Most Wonderful Man I Have Known. With Love.

2011-04-29T05:58:00.022-04:00

A year ago I lost the man who had been the biggest and best constant in my life. Mere words aren't enough to describe how amazing a person he was. Still, we tried to him justice.

My grandfather's eulogy, written by cousin Scribbler and myself.

Most of us who are here are here because we knew my grandfather --- whether as L, or uncle, or Irmao, or Padrin, or Mr M, or Daddy, or Papa. Some of us will, indeed, remember him most vividly for pinching our cheeks really, really hard. So since we all know him, it hardly seems necessary to talk about him --- but perhaps this will help us relive some memories.

Ever since Thursday, when he left us, I have been thinking that I will never be privileged to meet a more gracious person than him. We all know that, despite not having much education, he took every opportunity for learning in establishing a career, moving up from being an accounting clerk at West End Watch co, to being the General Manager, the first non-white person to hold that position. But many of us will also know that along with this achievement, Papa never forgot his duty and responsibility to share his success with others and help them make their own successes and build their own futures.

He was such a kind man and a generous one. Generous to a fault maybe, always giving without counting the cost. But generous in giving materially as well as in spirit --- he forgave people who wronged him and didn't hold grudges.

Career apart, he was a wonderful family man --- a loving and loyal husband to Grana, a dutiful and caring son to his mother and mother-in-law, a good father, an affectionate grandfather. He may not have been a modern guy -- you would never see him carrying babies or changing diapers -- but he carried us all in his heart and did whatever he could to protect and nurture us.

He lived a full life in other senses as well. Many of us will remember how fond he was of reading, especially his favourite books, The Count of Monte Cristo and The Song of Bernadette. Some of us will also recall that he was quite a movie buff. And many of us would have enjoyed the fulfillment of his dream of having a house in the hills, at picnics and holidays in Khandala, the house he delighted in for more than 2 decades.

He enjoyed discussion and was quite opinionated, so that birthday parties sometimes seemed like meetings of the debating club. Without question, he was very stubborn -- a trait several of his children and grandchildren have inherited. But this stubbornness also helped him stand up for what he believed in and defend anyone he felt was being treated unfairly. He had such a solid sense of ethics.

We will miss his deadpan sense of humor, making unexpected jokes that were always memorable.

Above all, he was steadfast in his faith. He was devoted to Our Lady. At the end, even when he struggled to find the strength to speak, the words of the Hail Mary and the Angelus flowed freely.

Yes, he was gracious. Till the end, when he had become a man of very few words, those words often expressed concern, hospitality, gratitude. "Eat and go," "How is Mummy?" "Tell her not to worry," "Take care," Thank you, " "Kind regards, " and if you said you were going to visit, "Most welcome." These were the things he said most often. Whatever suffering he faced in the last year or so, he bore silently, without a moan or groan or a word of complaint or frustration. Till the end he was saying "Thank you" to his doctors and caregivers.

He was given to us by God for nearly 96 years. Yet it seems as if we got to journey only a few miles together. Still, I know I'm luckier than many who never knew their grandparents, for they had died or lived far away. And even as we know we'll miss him, and miss the second home that Grana and he made for us, we are thankful for that irreplaceable gift of Papa and the memories we have of him.

Attention Star Deck. Mission De Cloak has been a Success!

2011-04-25T07:21:00.048-04:00

She walked briskly up the street and over the hill. There was a stunning vision of architecture all around, but she was blind to it all; her entire focus was on getting to the meeting place. Hurry, hurry! she said to her companion. We musn't be late! He gave her a bemused smile and pointed out that they were well within time, but she waved him away impatiently and skipped along just a little bit quicker.

The thoughts were rushing through her head at lightening speed, always coming back to one nagging thought. What if she doesn't like me?

They got to the pub and she stepped in, tentatively looking around. A slim girl with laughing eyes got up and approached her. Pixy? I'm Wynie! They hugged, looked at each other, burst out laughing and hugged madly again while their respective companions looked on. Introductions all around - pausing to clarify real names - and more hugging!

And just like that, everything fell into place.

In reality, there was no real need for introductions since they already knew almost everything about each other! It was just one brief evening, but it was filled with fun and laughter in the company of some amazing people.

Later, when said goodnight and turned back for one last hug, she knew it wasn't really that it was going to be goodbye. This was the continuation of a beautiful friendship.

Dungeons, Dragons and other major Distractions

2011-04-19T05:15:00.027-04:00

If there is anyone out there in blogland who is still tuning in to this space and wondering what rock I am trapped under, then the answer is this; I'm besotted. Smitten. Infatuated even!

My friend Wookie introduced me to a fantasy series about a month ago and I have gotten wholly engrossed in this world of politics and plots, epic battles and the constant struggle for characters to outwit each other and stay alive in the dark and dangerous world of Westeros. George R. R Martin's first book in the Song of Ice and Fire series was first published in 1996 and since then three subsequent books have been released which have all gone on to being roaring successes. The highly anticipated fourth book is due for release this July.

What started out as taking up a friend on a reading suggestion, has now turned into an obsession for me. Always a fan of fantasy and fascinated with the ideas of parallel worlds and the likes, this series has finally met my craving for a story on a large enough scale with characters that are varied and amazingly multidimentional. As fond as I am of Tolkein and the LOTR series, I am want to despair at the firm lines that he has drawn between the "Good" and the "Evil". In the case of non human species such as the Orcs and Uruk-hai, that were created by evil for the purpose of evil, it is fine. But with the human characters, I wish there was more depth and dimensions. The Good remain Good and the Bad remain Bad throughout with no hope for redemption for one or slip ups from the other.

Here though, I find myself questioning the value of characters imbibing the very virtues I had initially admired them for, just a few chapters ago. Other characters, who at first glance show repulsive personalities have later revealed sterner, more morally staunch sides. And most of all, the "Good guys" are not allowed to live simply because they are the good guys. Sometimes, with the turn of a page a beloved character is felled.

Such is the world of Westeros. I have been ensnared in this trap of rabid reading, and the only way out is to devour every word of every line of all the books. Pray that I make it to the other side!

In Which the Author Gains a Modicum of Legitimacy

2011-04-07T05:30:00.025-04:00

And what I'm really trying to say with that very cryptic title is:

I'VE BEEN PUBLISHED!

The article that I submitted back in February was accepted and the issue is just out. The editor sent over a PDF version of the story to me and they've used some of my photographs to accompany the piece. So, well chuffed with that.

There's just one patch of cloud to gloom up my otherwise sunny day and that is because of some edits they did to my title and bi line - sans permission. My original submission was: Bonnie Scotland - Lifting back the Veil of the Tartan Curtain.

That got changed to: Bonnie Scotland. Scotland is not just about whiskey and bagpiper. There is much more to it, says *my name*

Badly worded, miss spelled and grammatically incorrect. With MY NAME attached to the end of it! The cheek! And the horror! Am so worried that people are going to take one look at that title and bi line and not bother to read any further. Oh dear.

So right now, I'm trying to focus on the being published part and not bothering about the rest. Each time I feel bad about the cock up, I log in to my online bank account and look fondly at the money in there that's payment for the same. It does help take away the sting a whole lot.

When Death Us Does Part

2011-03-29T05:26:00.114-04:00

Four months ago, I sat curled up on the couch watching snowflakes swirl outside my window, turning the streets of G Town into a winter wonderland. Two days later, it hadn't stopped snowing and the wonderland had fast turned into a monster vale. The freezing rain hit after that, and thanks to the total lack of grit and salting, the entire city turned into one giant ice rink. It was one day soon after, as I gingerly made my way to work one morning, watching people all around me falling over like skittles, that I was keenly aware of just how easy it would be for me to fall over and badly injure myself. Especially since I was a major calamity on even regular roads. From falling over and getting hurt, my thoughts turned to more darker outcomes such as just one false step spelling disaster, and leading to my head being cracked open on the curb.

Lights Out. Curtains. The End. Without the possibility of an encore performance. THE BIG FINISH.

And although I found myself rather unperturbed by the entire concept of my life coming to a sudden (and tragic) halt, it was the idea of my send off that started to bother me even more.

Coming from a large family, I've been used to celebrating all manner of events from a very early age. Birthdays, weddings, anniversaries, christenings, graduations; they've all been attended with gusto. Funerals on the other hand have always been an alien event. My family tended to keep children away from funerals and death in general. And the one time I did attend one, I was too stressed out by the overwhelming atmosphere. The person in question had been a rather aged member of the family and had died after a good long life. Yet, there were people all around wailing and beating themselves with grief. Literally. Many years later, I found out that those women who had been weeping copious amounts of tears were what my dad referred to as "professional mourners." They regularly attended funerals of all and sundry and made sure that the overall atmosphere was rank with grief and despair. At the time, I did not know this, and I was scared and uncomfortable with the whole situation. And, as I often do in such times, I began talking and joking. Inappropriate sentences tumbled out of my mouth and I was powerless to stop myself. My grandmother and aunt who were the relatives closest to me promptly marched me out of the room and into the custody of a random cousin with instructions to take me home at once. Said cousin has often thanked me for getting him out of a claustrophobic room and uncomfortable suit. It was later decided that for the sake of the family, I was not to attend any more funerals; a decision I was more than happy to abide by.

But now, I was consumed with thoughts of my own sendoff. I knew what funerals are supposed to be and I also knew most certainly that I wanted mine to be nothing like a "regular" funeral at all. I didn't want sadness or grief or tears. Not unless they were going to be tears of laughter. Because, let's face it, when thinking about me, most of the time you're going to remember some sort of crackpot thing that I've said or done and that's just going to make you giggle.

And that's what I want. A room full of people who I love and who hopefully love me in return all sitting around sharing their personal stories about me. No one is to wear black, unless of course it is for the slimming effect and you have a LBD that you've been dying to wear. I would like folks to bring along their favourite picture of me. That way, everyone can see just how great my hair actually was!

I want music playing. Not some somber ponderous rendition of Amazing Grace either. But music that is reflective of me, of my life. Pink's Raise Your Glass comes to mind right now. So too Glee's Loser Like Me. Both terribly apt I'd say! These are the notes I want blasting through that room. And I DO mean blasting, so there's no way this is going to be in some stoggy funeral hall or prim and proper church. The party room of some pub would be a far more suitable venue.

If there is to be a eulogy, then I want it told by the three people who I know will do me justice. My cousin Scribbler, my big brother Beer Baron and the love of my life, Maestro. They know all the good stories spanning my childhood, my teenage years and in to adulthood. Also, by picking 3 writers, I'm increasing the odds of them being around after I've kicked it! I can count on these guys to leave off the flowery tributes and focus on the really and REAL stories instead. Even the ones that made me look like a complete tit. Especially those ones!

Please don't bother with flowers. Wreaths especially. Take that money you'd spend on lilies or carnations or whatever and instead put to towards some concrete way of remembering me. Plant a tree. Put a bench in park so that people can sit down and read on a fine summer's day. Donate it to a charity. Whatever. Just don't waste it on an ugly wreath that costs too much and will just wither away in a few days anyway.

I guess what I'm saying is, don't treat as the end of my life, rather, a celebration of it. Make it a great big party and by golly, I want people to be hungover as hell the next morning!

And if you are going to play Amazing Grace, at least make it a damned good version!

Cold Hard Truths

2011-03-22T11:00:00.005-04:00

Me (to friend): So, how’s the new job going? Like it better than the other place?

Friend: Yeah… its good. This place is much… um… swankier than the last though.

Me: Oh? How do you mean?

Friend: Well, for starters, they’re really picky about their staff and how they look. The waitresses are totally stunning!

Me: Ah well.. makeup does wonders. If I knew how to wield a mascara brush, I’d have a job there as well.

Alleged Friend: No, you don’t understand. They want REALLY beautiful women.

Me: (thinking) Time for some new friends.

On Dating

2011-03-10T14:18:00.000-05:00

While chatting with a girly pal the other day, we got talking about the murky world of dating. We'd like to think that we are both smart, savvy and moderately good looking lassies. Yet, between the two of us we have amassed a rather alarming number of dating horror stories. Our conversation lasted for about 2 hours and over that time we made some very interesting observations.

For starters, we figured out that guy time is a lot like dog time, just in reverse. Every minute to a girl is about 7 hours to a guy. Which would possibly explain why when they say, I'll call you soon, and then don't call for about a week. And also why when they do finally call, they they wonder why you're so mad that they've seemingly ignored you for a good many days. Even when you're on a date, the canine like behaviour tends to persist. Chances are, about mid way through the meal they're just going to want to doggy bag the rest, go back home and get you to play with them.

Then again, I've been so far removed from the dating game that I'm not even sure where to begin. Unfortunately life is not like a game of Monopoly with a convenient start point at GO. Incidentally, if you could collect £200 at the start of each new relationship it would certainly help with all the drinks you sometimes need to consume just to be able to get through the some of the dates!

Boy speak, like boy time is another mystery. Men are always going on about how women are cryptic; honestly, they can be just as bad. For example, I was recently at a bar with this guy I fancied, and who by all accounts fancied me as well. The conversation throughout the night consisted of him trying to break down a computer program for me followed by a long analytical discussion on why the TV in the corner had a blinking light. If ANY of you out there can interpret if I am to take that as a " I like you", please, let me know.

I did try to consult my handy dandy pocket dating book, but again because its been so damned long the copy I have is hopelessly outdated and missing a few chapters. An order has been placed for a replacement - with an entire chapter devoted to computer geeks as well! However, knowing my luck by the time it arrives, I'll have met an artist or musician or space cowboy and will need a whole new edition.

Been There, Done That!

2011-03-07T13:55:00.051-05:00

Almost 3 weeks later, and I'm still receiving birthday prezzies which, I have to add is totally awesome! My friend Penguin Pal is all about the "birthday month" and I'm rather liking the concept. A package just came in with all sorts of goodies from my besties in the T Dot. The accompanying card has a list of things that was titled "30 Things to do for 30". Here's a reproduction of the same. I am happy to report that I have been able to cross a fair few items off already!

Shop till you drop - HATE shopping with a passion, so this one might never get done.
~~Eat cookie dough~~
~~Quit your job~~
~~Buy some bling~~
Speed date - Was signed up for it once, then genuinely fell ill on the day so had to drop out.
~~Sing karaoke~~
Do the birthday dance - Not quite sure what this is, but am up for all/any kinds of dancing!
Streak - Am rather surprised that given my group of friends this hasn't already happened.
~~Wish for something outrageous~~
~~Party! Party! Party!~~
~~Eat Cake~~
~~Play spin the bottle~~
Take a hot air balloon ride - Actually want to do that here before I leave. Virgin sometimes does really good discount offers.
Bungee jump from a bridge - Was all set to do this in New Zealand, then my busted knee put a kibosh on those plans.
Date online -Probably another thing that will never get done. Can't seem to get into the zone for this kind of stuff.
~~Moon somebody~~
Pimp your ride - Have never owned my own car, but does glitter and stickers on your bicycle count?
Get shot out of a cannon - Um, NO. I am accident prone as it is! But, would like to try trapeeze swings at some point.
~~Kiss a stranger~~
~~Splurge on something frivilous~~
~~Go skinny dipping~~
Runaway and join the circus - So wanted to when I was little and reading about Mr. Galliano's circus!
~~Go crazy~~
Drop it like its hot - Again, not quite sure what is required of me here. Anyone reading this who speaks Snoop Dog?
~~Play strip poker~~
Write your memoir - This blog kinda counts, doesn't it?
Go skydiving - Dunno about solo, but a tandem dive seem like a piece of cake! (I say, with my feet planted on terra firma)
Call a party line - Again. No. Waste of money that I can spend on pints and chatting/flirting with someone in person.
~~Cry over lost youth~~
~~Live it up!~~

Tribute Act

2011-03-06T10:22:00.054-05:00

Five weeks of hyper intensive planning activity all came to a head on Thursday night at the charity gig. The last week of planning was especially difficult. Ticket sales were nowhere near where they should have been and my supposed "helpers" were doing anything but. Three days before the event, the compere called to say that he wasn't going to be able make it and a day later the headliner sent me a message on Facebook (on Facebook!!!) to say that he'd gotten a paid gig and so couldn't do the event.

Suffice to say, by the time the day came around, I was stressed out of my mind and trying to desperately to juggle everything that had to be done all the while attempting to give off an aura that I actually everything under control. Thankfully, I have the world's BEST friends and they all rallied round to help out in every way that they could, even making sure I got a bite of a sandwich every time I ran past them!

The turn out wasn't as large as I'd hoped, and we had to wait a half hour to start the event so that the room looked filled out. Still, once it actually got going the crowd all seemed to be loving it and the acts were all in top form. We raised a tidy amount on the night from ticket and raffle sales and donations are still coming in.

It is two days later and I feel like I'm still recovering. But, it was worth every minute of anxiety and stress and I'm going to be a very happy bunny on Monday when I hand over the money to the charity. The evening was dedicated to the memory of the two grandparents I lost to that bastard disease. One was taken when she was barely 50; a life only part lived. The other I watched as the disease ripped through his frail body making the last months of his life a living hell.

This is the only way I know to honour them. Make them proud.

The Aftermath

2011-02-20T08:41:00.017-05:00

The last guests have just been ushered out the door and I turn back to survey the disaster zone that is my flat. If there is a direct correlation between how great the party was as compared to the mess left behind, the I'm thinking this was the party of all parties!

The clean up will take a while, especially since I'm feeling rather tender right now. But it was one helluva night. A fitting close to a week of birthday celebrations, and a terrific start to wonderful new decade ahead.

On Turning 30

2011-02-16T04:44:00.155-05:00

As the clock struck midnight, there was the epic noise of a door slamming shut as I crossed over the threshold and landed firmly into the third decade of my life. My friends decided that making an announcement over the mic and getting the entire pub to sing for me would be appropriate. There was a rousing cheer of "Happy 30th" at the end of the song and hearing that out loud was a very odd feeling indeed. I knew this moment was coming. In fact, the entire evening I kept checking my watching thinking, Just 4 hours left in my 20s.... just 3..... and so on.

I am now about 8 hours into my 30s having just stumbled home after the comedy night at the pub which was followed by the post comedy night at another bar. And if these past few hours are any indication of how the rest of the decade will follow, then Mercy, this decade is going to be even more manic than the last!

To commemorate the awesomeness that has been my life thus far, I've put together a list of what I consider my top 30 moments of glory. Begging your indulgence with this little piece of self promotion, I give you (in no particular order):

30 Things I did before 30

Learned to tie my shoe laces and ride a bike all on the same day. Or so my mother says.
Won a dance competition. Toronto Swing Dancing Championship, 2008. West Coast Swing Beginner Category - First Place!
Saw wild elephants up close. A little too close actually.
Took part in almost every extra curricular activity my high school had on offer. Art, music, drama, sports, science fair - did it all.
Completed the Tongararo Crossing; a 21 km alpine trek that climbs as high as 1900 mts. Ok, so I had to be carried down the last 1.5 kms by six German guys coz I'd fallen and twisted my knee. But it still counts.
Been carried down a mountain by six German guys. Hey, how many other people can claim that?
Sang the National Anthem at a major league sporting event.
Was bridesmaid at my Very Best Friend's wedding.
Quit my job. Twice.
Took a six month sabbatical and went travelling.
Started anew and carved a niche for myself in the new career path.
Tried both skiing and ice skating. Both were epic FAILS. But hey, at least I tried.
Moved to a new country and started from scratch. Twice.
Led a successful boycott of my high school Christmas pageant in protest of exam dates clashing with production rehearsal times. Have I mentioned that I went to a catholic school run by Carmelite nuns? And that my aunt was a teacher at said school? It was my very own Norma Rae moment.
Slept outdoors under the canopy of stars in the Australian Outback.
Skinny dipped in the ocean.
Watched the sun rise over sand dunes in the Thar desert.
Eaten at least 5 kinds of "mystery" meats. And lived to tell the tale.
Was the youngest person ever to sit on her Parish Council. And boy did I shake things up during my tenure!
Graduated debt free. Not even a library fine to worry about.
Held my own for 4 years working as the only female in a department of 47 men in a testosterone dominated industry. Helped that I could drink most of those pansies under the table.
Fallen hopelessly, passionately and totally in love. Because no matter how it ended, it was an incredible feeling while it lasted.
Dragged myself out of the cold bleak well of heartbreak and clawed my way back to the top. Three times.
Presented at an international conference on youth leadership. Again, one of the youngest presenters there.
Learned how to cook well enough to have friends around for dinner and cook yummy goodies for them. Hardly award worthy I know, but sometimes the company of good pals is worth more than a million dollar prize.
Taken a chance. On life, on a job, on love.
Nurtured and maintained several long lasting friendships that have stayed strong even through years and miles have separated us.
Co-produced a book chronicling the lives of two of my personal heroes - my grandparents.
Introduced a fair few people to the wonderful world of dancing as a Dance Instructor.
Made a cameo in a Bollywood movie. It was for about 3 seconds and I am barely visible, but I know I'm there!

Censorship

2011-02-11T04:29:00.034-05:00

In a world where so much is already going so very wrong; where wars and violence, famine and floods, murder and mayhem all seem to take centre stage, do people post pics of their truly ugly babies??? I understand if you have an adorable, cute, rolly polly, wee oompa loopma like kiddo; who doesn't like to see pics of that?

But if you have somehow managed to give birth to something that looks a bit like that thing that popped out of Sigourney Weaver in Alien, then WHY WHY WHY would you share that face with the rest of the world????

For anyone who is even remotely confused, let me illustrate. Bellow is an example of a cute kid.

This, on the other hand is most certainly and definitively NOT

And ok, even if you have just reproduced and produced something that looks like it supports Darwin's theory of the missing link, that's why useful programs like Paint and Photoshop were invented. Just saying.

Now, I realise that some of my readers are mums and two in particular with brand new wee men and it may be that this post unleashes the Mommy Dragon in them. Understanding that beauty is in the eyes of the beholder and that parents especially see cuteness where non exist, I might come across as an ogre right now. But seriously, give us a break. Just as Picasso doesn't appeal to everyone, no matter how much the critics gush over his work, it is the same with babies. There are some of us who refuse to play along with this "all babies are cute" charade. I'm just vocalising what a lot of people are thinking. Perhaps that makes me the bad guy, but even bad guys have a right to their own opinion.

**In response to Elli's comment, I'd like to say that yes, the reason I chose the pic of the new born is to lay emphasis on my point. That no matter how thrilled you are with the little leprechaun that you've just squeezed through your vajayjay, do not share these first pics with us, the rest of the uncaring world. Give the child a few days to get over the trauma of the close encounter with your intimates, let their heads get to the normal size, let all the swelling and redness subside.... and THEN post the pics. The one's where they are about a second old should be tucked away in an album marked PARENTS ONLY.

All I'm saying is, don't force me to share in your delusion.

Raining and Pouring

2011-02-08T11:48:00.000-05:00

No reference to the weather. It has actually been rather bright and sunshiney over the past few days. I am instead talking about the tendency that just as soon as you are busy beyond belief, the universe, like a cruel and sadistic boss will turn around and make sure to pile on a couple of extra tasks into your already overflowing in basket.

Like right now. As if working two jobs plus planning a charity fundraiser that's happening in just about 3 weeks wasn't enough, I've just gotten an offer to write an article for a travel magazine. 2000 words on travel in Scotland by the end of the month. Additional problem, the magazine caters to the luxury travel clientele. So not my forte at all! And since I don't have any time to do proper research, I'll just have to go with the places that I've already been and try and write something that will turn my budget backpacking experiences into an article that will appeal to folks looking for that uber chic holiday extravaganza.

And yet, how can turn down the amazingly fantastic offer? Finally the opportunity to write about something that I am passionate about, and get paid to do that as well! And, if they actually like my work perhaps this would mean the start of a long term business relationship! If I can get it written in time. And get stuff done for the charity event. And go to work at my two part time jobs as well.

Pressure, much?

You've Got Mail

2011-02-07T11:06:00.003-05:00

Heard a tap at the door this morning. Opened it to find the postman there. Grinning from ear to ear, he handed me a postcard. Odd, I thought. He could have just pushed it through the mail slot. Then I looked closer and saw the address, and realised why he wanted to hand deliver this particular piece of mail.

Scheming Governments

2011-02-05T04:40:00.026-05:00

It has been widely acknowledged that the Scotland has one of the highest percentage of obese people in all of Europe thanks to deep fried anything being on the list of your 5-a-day. The Scottish Government has been doing its best to combat this problem with a multitude of campaigns and initiatives to get the population to think and live healthy. Apparently, they have also recently teamed up with Royal Mail on a rather unique "get fit" scheme.

At least, that is the only explanation I have as to why the postman would leave a package notice at a time when both flatmate and I were home. He didn't tap at the door, just pushed the note through the mail slot in the door and took off. By the time I got to it, and opened the door he was gone. That meant I had to walk 20 minutes up the road and over the hill to the post depot, stand in line for 10 minutes, collect the package and walk back another 20 minutes home.

On the other hand, it DID get me out of my jammies and out and about on a particularly lovely sun-shiney morning.

Who knows, perhaps the Scottish government might have hit the nail on the head after all and this cockamamy new idea might just work!

Foresight

2011-01-30T04:54:00.000-05:00

Last summer, when I told people about how we disciplined kids at camp through manual labour, I was sometimes met with shock and outrage. Yeah, sure. YOU spend 8 weeks with a bunch of rowdy teens and see if you'd react any different!

Apparently, us Activity Leaders weren't the only ones who'd thought to go with that kind of plan. The Scottish government have similar ideas.

Mammoth Task, meet Pixy.

2011-01-24T05:03:00.030-05:00

Somewhere in the latter months of last year, after attending a couple of Tuesday night comedy gigs in a row I was bestowed with the dubious status of "Comedy Groupie". Considering some of the things I have been called in the past, this wasn't all that bad! It also meant that I had a brand new - and ever increasing - circle of friends all networked into Scotland's comedy circuit.

It was a chance remark by one of my comedian pals that got me thinking about pairing up my new found friends with my energies as a fundraiser to get another event going. This time, it would be one that the "regular" folk could actually attend; no black ties, no £100 a plate tickets!

I approached the charity I'd worked with on all of the past eventsand outlined my plan to them. To me, it was a no brainer. If they covered my initial costs like venue hire, I could make sure they get that downpayment back.... and then some. However, they didn't think so and came up with every excuse in the book as to why they weren't able to support me and my idea. It was a stark reminder of my disaster interview from last year.

Not wanting to give up on a good idea, I went ahead and emailed a couple of other local charities. One of them got back to me and set up a meeting for this morning. We met, we chatted and in about an hour we'd worked out most of the details on how the charity could support my fundraising efforts. March 3rd is the magic date. And now I have the mammoth task of planning and executing a comedy nightcharity fundraiser in little over a month's time.

*Gulp*

And, for the record. I really prefer Band Aid as opposed to Groupie!

Busted!

2011-01-19T14:48:00.038-05:00

While waiting at the cross walk on the way home from the underground station, I happened to glance at the couple standing next to me. I remembered that they had been on the same subway car as me. The lights changed and we crossed, they a few steps behind me. I could hear snatches of their conversation. It IS.... I'm sure....just ask, why don't you?... Because its weird, that's why!....Do you think so?.... yes, I'm positive.

Odd conversation, I thought, but didn't really think too much about it. As I turned off the main road onto my street, I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was the couple. Excuse me, but do you live in the first block of tenement houses on this street? A little bemused, I nodded; the girl hastened on. You live on the first floor don't you? Again, I nodded. Do you live in the same block as me? I asked. I didn't know we had new neighbours come in!

The girl looked at her partner and then back at me. I could see she was blushing slightly. Actually, we live across the road at number 9. But we can see into your living room..... and we can see you dancing around most days. We've always wondered who you are.... and well... now we know!

It was my turn to blush.

New Year's Revelations

2011-01-08T15:33:00.000-05:00

Berlin was a spur of the moment decision. A question of, where can I go for a few days at minimum cost? Two days after I booked the tickets, I found out about the lay off. Panicking slightly, I wondered if I should go ahead with the trip. The wander lust won out in the end. And besides, the tickets were non refundable.

Being in a new city was always a time for discovery. This trip, the biggest discovery was all about myself. Well, not so much a discovery as much as a confirmation of a lot of facts!

For starters, I have figured out that I am socially outgoing AND socially awkward both at once. I am also too old to play the pickup game. And I'm a wee bit afraid that I may just be too old for the entire travel/backpack/hostel experience in general.

Let me expand.

When I travel its all about seeing a new place; visiting the sights and taking in the local culture and history. I truly cannot be arsed with staying up late and partying till the ass crack of dawn. Its far too expensive - and very often for a single girl traveller at least - a wee bit dangerous.

It is almost a direct throwback to my high school days. Through 10 years of primary and secondary school, I pretty much had the one constant pal. I got along with a ton of peeps, but they were all largely generic. When VBF wasn't around, I would tend to flit around the periphery of other groups; always on the very edge, never quite in. There were times when I was hugely bothered by this and I was acutely aware of my solitary status. As I've grown older the solitude has become more and more like an old pal in itself. We are very comfortable together and there no pretense of false popularity is required.

Back to the travel, I get the distinct feeling that most other travellers don't quite know what to make of me. I do wish that social conventions allowed me to just state my agenda (or rather, the lack of one) loud and clear. Dear Fella at the bar, I have zero interest in snogging or being snogged. You seem like nice enough blokes and I just want to have a few laughs.

I am painfully aware that most times I come across as a right weirdo. Like a mirror of my high school days, I am sure that most of the time first impressions are that of eccentric kook who will probably end up like Mrs. Haversham. Fifteen years ago that might have upset me. Today, its not so bad. Heck, Mrs. H got to dance around all day and did exactly what she wanted without a care as to what the world thought. Not a bad life eh?

Paving the Road to Hell

2011-01-02T17:45:00.050-05:00

Got back from the very awesome and totally manic New Year's eve party at about 6am yesterday morning. How's that for a banging start to 2011?

There were a lot of surreal moments during the night. For starters, the air in the room was so thick with smoke I could have carved out a centre piece sculpture. And I wasn't talking about just cigarette smoke either. Then there was the boy who decided to get his hair shaved right in the middle of the living room. Half way through the event, the clippers broke and the boy ended up with a most unusual look. And let's not forget the pair of hussies that had taken it upon themselves to play an interesting game of Pass the Chlamydia as they made a lot of fellas very happy in the early hours of the new decade.

Regardless of all those shenanigans, or perhaps because of them, it was one heck-of-an-interesting night. Even the walk home at 5am was fun as I met a bunch of fellow west enders all heading home and it was a case of each one helping the other along. Now that's called being neighbourly.

Since I got home yesterday morning, I've been installed on the couch in the living room watching whatever has happened to be on TV. That has included Two Weeks Notice, Bridge Jones: The Edge of Reason and yes, that ringleader amongst flims of heartstring tugger variety - Love Actually. Also, it is now PJ wearing hour number 36.

So much for the good intentions!

Good Intentions

2010-12-31T21:13:00.044-05:00

And so we arrive at the very last day of this year. As always, there is that feeling of Where ever has the time gone by? I swear, we were *just* doing this last year......

Although I'm a not a resolution type of gal, I decided to go ahead and make some erm... guidelines for the upcoming year. And so, in no particular order, here they are:

1. Try something new as often as possible.
Beer Baron once told me that according to his grandma, trying or doing something new added an extra 72 hours to your life. We are still trying to figure out how that would work when it comes to sampling new brews; would the extra 72 hours cancel out the 72 hours we were probably loosing due to liver deterioration? In any case, actively seeking out new experiences seems like a good way for me to ensure that the adventures continue. And hey, they make for very good blog posts as well!

2. Don't spend more than 48 hours at time in my PJs.
Please note, I'm not saying that lounging around in one's PJs are not a good thing. I'm just attempting to put a cap on the number of days (at a time) that I remain in them.

3. Do NOT keep watching sappy movies like Love Actually or Sweet Home Alabama. They do nothing other than shine a very large and bright spotlight onto the fact that I am (and will probably continue to be) in a state of singledom.

4. Dance. All the time. Anywhere. Everywhere. Even if people are watching. Especially if people are watching. Something like this.

Happy New Year Readers. I've loved having you follow along on my mad little journey so far, and hope to see you again in 2011.

The Mega Christmas Wishes Post

2010-12-24T08:32:00.017-05:00

Some years ago a friend came up with a very unique idea for a Christmas email. This year, when sitting down to compose mine I remembered his plan and decided that the statute of limitations on the rip off had expired and went ahead and created my own version of a Christmas message.

When thinking about Christmas, its always the memories from your childhood that tend to take centre stage. Good and bad... they come tumbling to the forefront. Whether it is that horrible dress your mother forced you to wear (Bandra girls on this list... you know the one with the bows and itchy fabric) or the excitement of making Christmas sweet with your Nana and the cousins or the thrill of the first notes of the Christmas choir.

I could have written a deep and insightful (and sometimes humourous) account of my best Christmas memories... but that's not going to be any different from the rest of the festive greetings is it? So, thanks to the wonder that is You Tube, this is going to be an audio visual trip down memory lane!

When you sing in a Christmas choir, the festive season begins long before Advent Sunday. In fact, I remember one year when it was not even Diwali and we'd already begun with weekly practices. Through trembling tenors and shakey sopranos and with 80% of the singers not even able to read music, we somehow each year managed to pull off a fantastic performance the Christmas Eve service. Unfortunately, there are no recordings to share with you, so instead I give you The Carol of the Bells

performed by a very unique ensemble.

Anyone growing up in North American will be very familiar with TV Christmas specials such as the Peanuts Christmas and A Christmas Carol and How the Grinch Stole Christmas. We didn't have TV specials in Bombay. What we DID have were uncles and aunties and random relatives and family friends who lived in various parts of the Middle East who would tape (yes as in video) various programs and pass out these cassettes to their India based rellies. And thank goodness for their unabashed bootlegging and totally infringement of copyright because otherwise I would have never ever known about The Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton, A Christmas to Remember.

There are so many wonderful songs from this program, both the old and well known as well as new (well, for 1984) ones that Dolly and Kenny belted out in true country style. My all time favourite that I'd like to share with you is a song who's lyrics are so apt, even all these years later. And yes, I Believe in Santa Claus!!

Whatever your personal Christmas traditions, the season is all about getting together. Friends and family from near and far. And over the years, Christmas has been the reason for some amazing musical collaborations that have produced some of the finest tunes ever. There's one such match up that I absolutely love. Here's David Bowie and Bing Crosby and their take on

The Little Drummer Boy

To all of you on this list that have kiddos (or are about to pop some out), I say to you: Make sure your kid is introduced to the wonderful world of the Muppets as early as possible. Heck, I'd say that EVERYONE should know about the Muppets. The world would certainly be a much better place we all just did things like they do in Jim Henson land! (manamanah!)

So, I end this with this, the best of Christmas wishes to you and yours. May it be merry, may it be bright, joyful and triumphant! But most of all, may it be filled with the joy and laughter of loved ones. Here's hoping that 2011 brings you the best experiences and wonderful times to look back on at this time next year.

Kermit, Miss Piggy, Fozzie, Gonzo and the rest of the gang have this special wish for you.

Cheers to a wonderful today, and an even better tomorrow.

Pink. Not my Favourite Colour.

2010-12-22T17:42:00.057-05:00

Pretty much all of Scotland has been getting slammed with the worst kind of winter weather. Snow, sleet and ice is all that the weather fairy is offering on the menu. It has caused the worst kind of chaos as this country is so not prepared for the ravages of winter storms.

And yet there were a small group of us that still managed to trudge in to work every single day. From 6pm to 10pm every night, we toiled away. There were at time anxious glances out the window as the snow started to accumulate to alarming proportions. Over the radio we heard repeated announcements for folks to get home early as there was fear that most main highways would soon be shut.

Last Monday, as the snow was gathering to alarming proportions, we asked if there was the possibility of getting off work early. After a lot of hemming and hawing, permission was given to leave 30 minutes early *only* if we made up the time later on in the week. Very thankful, we scampered off. The next day, we each got a call from work telling us that the back shift (that's us) was to be temporarily suspended due to the weather.

I must admit that I did enjoy the unexpected night off. It was actually the night of the epic foot-in-mouth moment, but hey it was still a night off and it felt wonderful to out and about like a regular person! But as the days went past, and the snow and ice melted and we still didn't get a call back to work, there was a stink in the air. It wasn't until last Wednesday a whole week later that we were finally recalled to action.

By this time, I had a sinking feeling about the whole situation. And right enough. As we all sat down at our desks, the manager came by and handed us all a letter. It's just about your contracts he drawled. It sure was. And the fact that this was our one week's notice of termination as the back shift was being cancelled.

Its not the fact that we've been laid off. Its not the fact that I've lost a job that I was counting on to see me through the next six months. Its how it was done and the really lame reason (change in company dynamics) that we were given. The reality is that we were asking too many questions, making too many "demands", actually bothering to question how things were done.

Today was our last day. Not one person from management stayed behind to acknowledge that 12 people were leaving. Perhaps even to thank us for our efforts? Wish us good luck? A Happy Christmas?

I'll miss the fun times with my colleagues and the security of a regular pay. But I cannot say that I'm sad to be out of there. I've been working for 10 years now and that was truly an interesting experience. But I am slightly thankful that I do not have to be part of that environment any more.

I am instead, going to focus on spending Christmas with my friend and everything else that the holiday season has on offer.

Pixy out.

Kiss and Tell

2010-12-14T13:15:00.048-05:00

Every year in the run up to Christmas, I always have that one special moment that seems to define the season for me. Its something, often a tiny and mundane act or event that is the trumpet blast The Holiday Season is on hand!!!! This year's was just a little extra special.

Last night I was at a bar with some friends when someone pointed out that I happened to be standing right under a bunch of mistletoe. All conversation came to a screeching halt as every single person in the group (and some from adjacent groups as well) turned to see who was going to do the deed. The seconds ticked away feeling like an eternity and I stood there just looking into my drink and wishing that the earth would open up and swallow away my public embarrassment.

After what seemed like an eternity and as people were starting to feel bad for me, my pal leaned over and gave me a loud *muuuuuah* on the cheek. Everyone laughed and the tension was broken and people were turning back to their conversations. Then, the unthinkable happened. Another guy - the undisputed charmer/bad boy/man whore of the group - turned to my pal and loudly exclaimed, Terrible! That's no way to kiss someone under the mistletoe. This is.....and before I or anyone else could react, proceeded to kiss me long and hard and if I'm utterly honest, very very well.

When he finally broke it off to the loud cheers of the bar, I wasn't sure if I was dizzy from the beer, the embarrassment or the fact that I had just had a total overdose of Christmas cheer!

Hello Mouth, Meet Foot!

2010-12-08T19:50:00.000-05:00

The scene: Comedy night at the local. Booth in the corner with some of my pals. Boy sitting in corner is a newbie; colleague of a friend.

The situation:
I am sitting diagonally across from boy-in-the-corner. At one point, I shift position and in doing so, slam my knee against something under the table. Puzzled, I look down knowing that it can't be the table supports. Turns out, its boy-in-corner's leg. He's so tall that his legs stretch right across the large pub table and that's his knee I've just slammed into.

Still peering under the table I exclaim, Good heavens... that was you. My, you certainly are one long fella.

There is dead silence as everyone at the table processes that sentence, followed by a gale of laughter as me (and boy) turn very red.

*sigh*

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas!

2010-11-28T10:27:00.029-05:00

The first flakes were falling just as I got home from work on Friday night. We'd been expecting it all day; there was that sharp chill in the air that just screamed "Snow's Coming!" People around me pulled their coats tighter and stepped up the pace, eager to get home as soon as possible. I spread my hands and turned my face to the heavens. There was something so magical about the first snowfall of the season that it always felt like an almost spiritual experience.

As I watched from my window, the wind rattled against the pane whipping up the light flakes into a flurry frenzy. By the time I woke up the next morning, it was a Bing Crosby dream world outside. But Ma Nature wasn't done.

The snow continued to fall all day on Saturday, then through most of the night and as I sip my Sunday morning cuppa it's still falling. Knowing just how ill prepared Scotland is for this kind of weather, I am already dreading the commute in to work tomorrow morning. But for now, I am warm and cosy on the couch watching hangover TV and very glad that I have nowhere to be, but at home.

In Sickness and in Health

2010-11-24T06:29:00.045-05:00

Spain was amazing, but coming back to bone chilling temperatures has done nothing good for my body, already tired out from the long days of sightseeing coupled with the even longer nights of wine and song! I boarded the flight home with a sore head and an itchy throat and by the time I landed in Scotland it had escalated to a full scale fever and horrid swollen glands.

Speaking (or rather, croaking) to my mum the next morning, she poured out all sorts of Mother type home remedies to me. Haldi (turmeric) and milk, that's what Nana would always say, was her advice to me. I rang off promising to take a dose immediately. Except when opened the fridge I saw that we were all out of milk. And I really wasn't feeling well enough to drag myself down to the store to get some.

I curled back on the couch and buried myself under layers of quilts willing myself to get warm. The heating was on, and yet it felt like I was sitting in an icebox. My mum, ever vigilant called back in an hour to check if I'd followed her instructions. She clicked with impatience when I told her the situation. I hastened to reassure her. I've mixed brandy and honey in hot water and I'm sipping that right now. It's soothing my throat and warming me up as well.

Mama laughed and said that she wasn't sure that would have been Nana's first choice. Nope, I replied. But I'm sure that's what Papa would have suggested!

Good Things Come to Those Who Wait. Eventually!

2010-11-10T08:08:00.000-05:00

The vacation that was supposed to be is, finally the vacation that actually is!

And if you don't happen to speak cryptic, that just means that after all the cock ups, cancelled flights and various other bureaucratic glitches, I'm finally packing my bags and heading off to El Torro land tomorrow. Five days in Madrid where I'll meet up with university pal Peaches and his wife. Sadly, its not going to be possible to reconnect with my Spanish pals from over the summer as this is exam time and they're all loaded down with assigments and cannot make the trip over. Hopefully I will get to grab a couple of minutes with the one that lives in the city.

From Madrid, its on to rival city Barcelona where there are more lovelies to meet up with. Old family friends who I haven't seen in about 10 years. Its going to be quite the reunion.

So, look after yourselves my lovelines while I'm away and I'm sure there will be much to chat about once I'm back in two weeks.

The Only Constant

2010-11-08T15:52:00.076-05:00

Last summer my parents finally got down to replacing the front bay window. They took away the old one which was the original window from when the house was built back in the 60s and also (thankfully) got rid off the butt-freaking-ugly awning that resided over the window. This spring my dad and brother revamped the garden putting in flower beds and planting a plethora of perennials and annuals that have totally transformed both the backyard as well as the front garden into a riot of colour and beauty.

When talking to my mum earlier today she told me that they've just finalised with a contractor with regards to doing up the kitchen. The old and outdated flooring, counters and cabinets are all going; new appliances are moving in and the old walls are literally getting busted down to make way for a window/counter top looking into the dining room.

We knew that there was work to be done when we bought the house. Some of these changes were long overdue; we didn't even have a properly working dishwasher for crying out loud and the backyard had been a tangle of weeds when we moved in. Everything was moving according to plan.

I love that my dad, the consummate gardener has the rose bushes that he has always wanted and that my mum will finally have a kitchen that is a help, not a hindrance. But I'm just a little sad that I'm not there to share in these little (and big) events. So much is changing. Will I even recognise places and people when I get back home?

But then again, so much has changed about me as well. I am, in many ways not the person I was when I left. Will they recognise me?

Lady Justice, You are Blind Indeed

2010-11-02T10:39:00.001-04:00

Somewhere in the midst of the fun and laughter and revelry of the night out in Soho last month, my credit card was stolen. I didn't notice the loss until the next morning and called the company right away. They canceled the card and assured me that there had been no charges made although someone had tried - unsuccessfully - to use the card to buy train tickets to Manchester. Cheeky sods! The new card came in the mail some days later and life went back to normal.

That is until I received my bill and the first thing I notice is a £300 ATM withdrawal made the same night my card was nicked. Raging, I called the credit card company and filed a disputed charges claim. This was on a Friday night two weeks ago. Today, I get a notice in mail dated the Monday after that first call informing me that "their investigations into the fraudulent claim is complete and I am liable for all charges".

When I called the fraud investigations department, they were unable to tell me what kind of investigation they had completed. They only thing they kept saying was that because my PIN number had been used, I was liable. The inference was that the chip and PIN technology was fool proof against fraud. Apparently they haven't been reading the papers or following the news. And sadly for me, it is the same bunch of numpties who are apparently the "experts" in the world of fraud. These are supposed to be the gatekeepers and the watchdogs of finance.

No wonder then, the whole bloody world has gone to hell in a hand basket.

Trick or Treat?

2010-10-31T18:16:00.029-04:00

A few months ago I interviewed for a job here in G Town. Unlike most other times, I didn't need have to spend the days before researching the company and the job role in my usual pre interview agenda. I didn't have to google the office location, or look up the interviewer. These were things I already knew because I'd been working for the organisation for the past 8 months. I'd assisted with planning three large fundraisers and through those events, helped the organisation raise over £85,000. Suffice to say, they knew me, knew my work and my strengths and capabilities.

At the interview I outlined a 15 month fundraising schedule that I had developed that included introducing a new range of events that targeted the 21-35 year old population; a group that I felt the organisation had failed to tap in to as potential long term donors. My plan included a list of event ideas, potential dates and venues and details on how to market these events to the target population using social networking tools. It was smart, comprehensive and guaranteed to raise their fundraising levels by at least 20% over the next year.

They listened to the entire proposal, smiled and nodded. Then they pushed aside everything I'd said and decided to focus on the fact that I didn't have access to a vehicle - which they stated was integral to the role - and that I didn't have an established donor network here in the city (or the country) that I could tap in to for support and outreach; also something they stated was integral to the role. I pointed out that I had somehow managed to do the job (rather successfully at that) for the past 8 months and hadn't let either factor be a hindrance to my success. Still, they weren't convinced and a few weeks later, I got a letter informing me that I hadn't got the job. It was a bitter pill to swallow. I was so sure that my past actions spoke volumes for my capabilities and deep down I felt I deserved the job far more than any of the other candidates. Fortunately, I left soon after for the south of England and soon the sting of that loss was a distant memory.

Some weeks ago, I received an email from the same organisation that was a call for volunteers. I checked the date and knowing that I had no other plans, confirmed my help. I even roped in a friend to go along as well. Last night at the event, we sold tickets, manned stalls and generally helped out all evening. I knew a lot of the other volunteers there as we'd worked together before at other events and it was a generally fun filled night. It was the first time that I was meeting anyone from the charity since the interview. It was also the first time I met the person they'd finally hired, but with two jobs in hand and a plan for a third on the horizon, I was in a much better place than six months ago, so it wasn't a big deal at all.

This morning I got a text message from the Fundraising Manager. Let's meet up soon. I have a proposal for you.

I'd been tricked before. So, this time, I'm hoping for a treat.

Where Have All The Nanas Gone?

2010-10-25T08:47:00.055-04:00

It is a truth universally known, that early morning phone calls are always to be mistrusted. For whatever unexplainable karmic reason, good news will come to you during the day. But that phone call or text message or pager that you get in the wee hours of the morning - that will always, always be helped along by an ill wind. And so, when my phone rang at 10:43 am today and caller ID said "home", I knew that picking up the call would definitely put a damper on my day.

It was my mum, calling to tell me that my dad's aunt had passed away. She was the last of her generation on my paternal grandmother's side of the family. I never knew my own grandmother as she had succumbed to ovarian cancer much before I was born. I am named for her and I share her passion for music and her talent for dance. Aunty Eye was her younger sister and almost everything I know about my grandmother came from her; but even after hearing all the stories, I feel there was so much more I could have learned, so many more questions I could have asked.

And that's what troubles me the most. As each grandparent, great aunt and grand uncle passes away, there are fewer and fewer voices that can reach back and decode the mysteries of the past. Suddenly it feels like a race against the passage of time and already I know that I am falling further and further behind. But, I wonder, is the sense of this loss a sorrow for their mortality, or is it that I know that I am just another step closer to mine?

Roots

2010-10-24T20:21:00.000-04:00

Last year I found out by chance that a lot of my friends here in G Town had never taken part in that oh-so-delightful Autumn activity otherwise known as pumpkin carving. I decided that it was my bounded duty to spread the good cheer of Halloween and with that in mind I invited a few friends around for a night of carving. It was a fun night; lots of laughs, good food and getting to know new friends. And a whole lot of folks who lost their proverbial pumpkin carving cherry!

A few weeks ago, some of the friends who'd come to last year's party cajoled me into organising another such evening. Last night, as I looked around at the gang gathered around my living room I felt a sense of accomplishment. I had established a tradition of sorts.

Today there was more evidence of further integration into local culture. Come 8 o'clock and I'd settled in to watch X Factor - the results show. Drama and his boy got me hooked the weekend I was in London and I'm now cheering along with the rest of this island. Again, it seems trivial but its just another thing that makes me feel more at home. Makes me feel like I belong here. Here, in this adoptive home of mine.

Character Reference

2010-10-14T18:38:00.045-04:00

At a meet up with friends Tigger and Roo last night, we got talking about our year end holiday plans. Roo is from Oz and Tigger is from Finland, so both are relative-less here in G Town. They told me about their plans to be with Tigger's folks for Christmas and she listed all of the little Finnish customs and traditions that she was looking forward to. When it came for my turn to tell of holiday plans, I shrugged despondently. I'd been invited to spend Christmas with friends from Newcastle, but seeing as how I worked until 10pm on weeknights - and Christmas eve is a Friday - it was going to be impossible to get to theirs in time for a holiday celebration. Almost all forms of transit shut down by 5pm on Christmas eve and don't start up again until Boxing Day.

While Tigger murmured her sympathy, Roo gave me a quizzical look. Pixy, you work on expenses right? Spreadsheets, money, allocation of funds... the likes? he asked. Wondering at this rather abrupt change of topic, I nodded in agreement. Yes, that was essentially what I did at work. His brow cleared and a big smile spread across his face. Good Heavens!! he yelped. Good Heavens, Pixy. You work with numbers and money and you're probably going to be working late on Christmas Eve. You're a real live Bob Cratchit!!!

Divine Intervention

2010-10-01T06:01:00.032-04:00

There was an email in my inbox this morning telling me about the death of my mum's cousin. He had been very ill for a while and for the last year bedridden, so it was a blessed death. Later, as I was speaking with my mum I mentioned how October 1st seemed to a popular day for our family. Today is Nana's one year death anniversary.

My mum murmured her agreement. After all Pixy, she said, Prim* Nobert was Nana's godson and he was really very fond of her. He must have remembered it was her death anniversary and decided that would be his as well. Now laughing madly, I told my mum that no matter how much he liked his Godmother, it would hardly be up to him to pick his time of passing. My mum was silent for a bit and then spoke. You're right. Prim Norbert wouldn't have been able to do anything, but Nana could!

And although I rang off still laughing madly, somehow I could totally see my grandmother being on some kind of welcome committee up in Heaven saying to a perhaps bemused and disoriented new arrival. Sit down baba, have a sandwich. You look tired. After all, its been a long journey to get here.

*Konkani word used for older cousin

My Weekend or How I Got Screwed by the French

2010-09-27T06:04:00.076-04:00

The bags were packed, the plans had been made and it was all systems GO for the mega meeting of summer camp friends in Madrid. Yes, I had planned to take a chance on the "3 months advised" rule hoping that my UK work permit and the fact that I had not one, but TWO jobs to come back to would sway immigration in my favour. Then, the Air Traffic Controllers of France went on strike and my outbound flight was canceled forcing me to put the kibosh on that adventure. That was the first screw-over.

Not wanting to totally miss out on a vaykay, I called my friend Drama in London and asked if I could come crash at his for the weekend. Fortunately, it was simple enough to change my return flight from Barcelona into tickets to London and back. After a delightful dinner catch up with a T Dot pal in Chinatown, it was off to Soho to meet up with Drama at a mutual friend's birthday do.

That night, I must confess I went a little party-mad. It wasn't just the birthday boy who was at the receiving end of complimentary rounds, I was not doing too bad myself. A chance encounter at the bar had lead to some flirty chit chat with a tall and handsome blue eyed stranger. The five minutes at the bar turned into flirty chit chat for the rest of the night once we realised that we were both there for the same birthday party! Huuuum, what are the odds? When we said goodbye at the end of the night, I figured that was it. So it was pleasantly surprising (and quite flattering) when the birthday boy texted me the next morning to ask permission to pass on my phone number to Blue Eyes.

One text message and phone call later, we were meeting up that evening for dinner, drinks and much more flirty chit chat. And that was the night I got screwed by the French again. Only this time, I didn't mind as much.

Take That Slamming Door!

2010-09-23T05:06:00.036-04:00

The reason I had been so skeptical about the meeting with True's manager was because there had been so many others in the past who had taken my details to pass on to their friend/manager/boss/ etc and nothing had come off it. My lovely friend, the beautiful (and totally mentally unhinged) Tigger had also passed on my deets to her manager-lady, but I'd long since heard that standard response Thanks, we'll be in touch.

Then yesterday I got a call from Tigger's manager-lady inviting me to an interview. Again, I went with little expectations. Again, I was thrown a curve ball as we had a simulation exercise mid way through the interview after which I was offered a job!

Its not anything grand; over-the-phone market research, minimum wage. However, the great part is that I can pick my work days which means that I can still schedule things so that I'm working about 32 hours a week and still have 2 mornings/afternoons off to continue with my research for the G Town tours.

Perhaps I'm mistaken here, but it truly feels like the Universe is finally playing on my team!

Doors Slamming, Windows Opening

2010-09-21T20:08:00.040-04:00

It's only the very foolish who would think that once things start to go well, nothing but good will follow. There's still going to be things that will go askew. Its a cosmic reality.

Being a tour guide was supposed to be my dream job. A combination of history, storytelling and being touristy; would anything else fit as well for me? It was all I had ever wanted in a job.... and then some. I worked hard to get in and spent countless hours doing research, putting together the perfect script, tapping into the inner actress to hone my storytelling skills. It was a proud moment when I lead my first group and I was so excited that I could barely stand still!

But not all was sunshine and lollipops. The company had a strict minimum 20% repeat rate that every tour guide had to maintain. The higher the repeat rate, the better the shifts you commanded. Also, living in G Town and having to commute over an hour to Edinburgh each time was also taking a toll. Both physically and financially. There were days when I'd travel there but the tour wouldn't run. Other days, I'd bust a gut for a group, but they wouldn't bother tipping, so I'd run at a loss. And let's not even get into the joys of having to lead a walking tour during a Spring downpour! Still, I persevered and gave it my all. Even so, my repeat rates were hovering dangerously close to the minimum threshold; I was in danger of loosing the one job that I'd wanted more than anything else. When I left for England at the end of June, I wasn't sure if I would be coming back to guiding. I was right. On getting back, I tried to contact the manager and team leader to ask to be put back on the rota. Emails, text messages, phone calls... all went unanswered. After two weeks of trying, I gave up. A few months ago, such a blow would have reduced me to a blubbering mess of tears, but not now. I took it as a sign that it wasn't meant to be. I'd given it my best shot and I'd truly enjoyed the 2 months that I'd spent as a guide. Also, I wasn't quite sure I wanted to continue working for a company that wasn't even professional enough to call and let me know that there wasn't a spot on the rota for me. That was just plain bad business manners.

Fast on the heels of that disappointment, came the Spanish debacle. A meet-up of friends from summer camp had been planned for Madrid and I was to head off to San Fernando and Barcelona after that. But that too t'was not meant to be. First there were problems with my passport as I had two months left on validity and the Spanish Embassy's website stated that it was "preferable" that there were three months validity. This would mean that I'd be at the mercy of the immigration officer upon arrival, and we all know just what wonderful souls of humanity they are. The last straw was this morning when I got an email from the airline stating that my outbound flight has been cancelled due to a Air Traffic Controllers strike in France. Flights scheduled to fly through French airspace have been diverted and those that cannot have been cancelled. I'm taking it as another sign.

That's the doors slamming part. Now, for those slowly opening windows.

Firstly, I'm going to get my documents together and apply for a new passport. I've saved the money on the outbound flight as the airline gave me a full refund. I've taken the money from the return flight and applied it instead to a return ticket to London for this weekend. If I cannot have a full on holiday, I'll take a mini break for a fun weekend with my pals. Also, I have a friend from the T Dot who's currently visiting London and it will be nice to catch up with a homie!

As for the dream job, well, I have a bigger and better plan. It may sound totally crazy, but here it is: I'm going to start my own tours right here in G Town. I already know that there's a huge gap in the market for walking tours aimed at the backpacker population. None exist. I've looked online, spoken to hostels and hotels and spoken with the tourist information services. There's the hop-on-hop-off bus tours, but that's it. I already know much of the history of the city and Scotland in general. Friends who have visited me have already benefited from a rough version of a G Town tour. I know I can do this. I WANT to do this. It will take hard work, long hours and loads of patience on my part, but I'm ready for it.

I'm taking charge and I'm making sure that the window opens. Heck, I'll bust a new one into the wall if I have to. This is one dream that will not be allowed to just slip away.

You're Patience is Requested

2010-09-07T16:13:00.005-04:00

Dear Readers,
I do apologise about the random nature of my recent posts. I've been trying to catch up, but there's been a whole lotta crazy that's happened right through the summer and also after I got home. There were a bunch of posts that I had to abandon half way through as I fled to deal with some sort of crisis... or merely to the staff room for a (few) pints. Reading over my notes, I am loath to just delete those posts as I feel that they best capture my raw emotions over the summer experiences. However, remembering what I meant by often cryptic words half strung together in a random grouping is proving harder than I thought!

And so, I ask that you please put up with me for a wee bit longer as I try to untangle the threads of the past and catch up with the present all at once. I'm not posting them in chronological order, so sometimes you may have to go two steps back in order to go forward! (A fine mirroring of my life, don't you think?) But, do stay tuned; this will all be sorted soon enough.

Sincerely,

Pixy

Another Milestone

2010-09-01T11:42:00.016-04:00

Today marks one year since I moved into my twee apartment here in G Town. Through the last year, its been the one constant of goodness. Literally, my place of refuge. And of course Rain Man, my very mental, very sweet and totally crazy flat mate who (amongst other things) introduced me some of my best pals, given me a hug and kind words when things have been down, helped me settle into the city and just generally been an overall great candidate for the Flatmate of the Century award!

Leaping Capasity

2010-08-24T14:35:00.002-04:00

There were a flurry of meet-ups after I got back. Lunch dates, coffee dates, movie dates, random walks through Kelvingrove Park dates. For a single girl, I was sure dating a lot! One of those dates was with a friend True, who I hadn't seen a long long while. She had volunteered for the two charity projects I'd helped organise and we'd kept in touch. Over coffee in Ashton Lane, we caught up on the past few months. On hearing that I was back to job hunting, she offered to pass on my CV to her manager. I thanked her, but didn't think too much about it. After all, there had been so many people who'd said they be able to help but nothing had ever come off it.

Even when a few days later I received a call from True's manager inviting me to a meeting at their offices, I assumed it would be a quick chat about my CV and past work experience followed by the customary statement: Thank you for your time, but we don't have anything right now. We'll be in touch if something comes up. I wasn't expecting anything more.

Imagine my surprise then, when I was introduced to the HR Director who was going to sit in on the "meeting". The surprise turned into abject horror when I realised that this was no mere meeting over a cuppa. This was a full scale interview. One that I was scant prepared for. Other than glancing at the website, I hadn't really done any proper research into the company or their product. Somehow I blabbed my way through the questions; an whole hour of them! And even then, it wasn't over. They asked me to do a test! Fortunately it was a relatively easy typing and word speed test. Feeling rather weary by now, I headed back to the meeting room. A beaming HR Director shook my hand with frank exuberance and before I could even comprehend what was happening, I was being offered a job. Twenty hours a week; part time, but a permanent position.

When I headed out this morning, I hoped for nothing more than a chat over coffee and potentially making a new contact. Somehow, I've now returned home with an offer of employment and I start in 3 weeks.

Back in June I wrote about my lost mojo. The fact that I had allowed the events of the past year to beat me into submission and alter certain basic features of my personality. I had chosen to forget about my otherwise fearless capasity to leap into a new situation; take a chance, make a splash. It seemed at the time, that my spirit had taken a royal beating and old friends like Curly, Penguin Pal and The Blonde One who know me well implored me to at least try and "find my way" again.

Well, its taken some time but I can truly say that I feel like I'm back. The real me. The old me... with some new and (hopefully) improved aspects.

A new job, a new start, a new lease on life, a new beginning.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I am back at Leaping Capasity. Bring on the World!

A New Chapter

2010-08-13T05:41:00.048-04:00

An eight hour train ride home is the perfect opportunity for me to take stock of the weeks gone by. There are many things that will forever be linked with my memories of life at summer camp. Some good, some not, but over all its been one helluva crazy roller coaster ride. Its only been a few hours, but already I'm missing the hustle and bustle of camp life. True, over the past two weeks our numbers had shrunk and a lot of the staff left last week, but even so, there were still enough people around. Its going to be very strange being on my own again. I wonder how I'm going to like it.

Looking out the window, I see mountains. We must have crossed the border into Scotland some time ago. Not too long to go before I'm home. I'm not at all sure what the next few weeks will bring me. I don't even know if I'll be calling Scotland home for much longer. What I do know is that I'm no longer the same person I was when I left here seven weeks ago. Being away from G Town and let's face it, being well out of the way of Beans has been a very good thing. The time away has helped me refocus on what's truly important - ME. In a few short weeks I have gone from being a sad and lonely dumpee to a happy, carefree and vibrant being who's even managed to have herself one hot (HOT) summer fling!

Yes, I'm going back to a quiet home. Then again, after having to share a life with 400 odd other people anything will be quiet in comparison. But its not going be a lonely life. There are friends that I've missed over the summer and who I cannot wait to see again. Talk to, do some much needed catching up. There are job applications to send out; not the most pleasant task, but it has to be done! There are still so many places in and around G Town that I want to explore; the traveller in me will never rest.

Only another hour or so and the train will pull into Central Station. I will take my bags, step off the train and head off. It's time for me to write a new chapter, and I hope you'll come back and read along with me.

After the Drought comes the Thunder

2010-08-07T23:30:00.027-04:00

I love my job and I love my colleagues, but 24-7 with the same people in a confined space is enough to make you want to kill even your bestest pal. Which is why, on my days off I usually flee the boundaries of campus at the first available opportunity and spend the day as far away from anything and anyone work related.

Today was the first time I broke that rule. Still, if you could spend extended periods of time in the company of this fine specimen of mankind, wouldn't you stick around as well?

French group leader. Artist. Musician. Boxer. Body of a minor Greek God. Studying law. Knows how to move those hips VERY well. Doesn't snore.

The rain poured down all day today. Indoors as well, a storm was raging. Thunder, lightening.... the works.

Book Review - The Tained Relic

2010-08-03T14:35:00.000-04:00

A random stop on one of the shopping trips with the kids took me to a book sale where I just couldn't resist a 3 for £5 deal. One of the books I picked up was rather interesting in more ways than one. A murder mystery that not only spans several centuries, but one that is written by multiple authors.

The story begins in the year 1100. It is the time of the First Crusades and the Holy City of Jerusalem has just been recaptured by the Crusaders and their zest to avenge Christianity results in the slaughter of innocents within the city walls. One of these innocents is the man who had been entrusted with protecting a very special relic - a piece of the True Cross stained with the blood of Christ. As he dies, he curses the invaders and the relic that brought about his untimely death so that anyone who touches the relic will die a horrible death as soon as the relic leaves their possession.

Five different authors tell the story of the relic and its path of destruction through time from the walls of Jerusalem to Devon in the later 12th century, Oxford in the early 1300s then back to the Devonshire city of Exeter before heading to Cambridge in middle of the 14th century and then finally winding up in London at the time of Will Shakespeare. The prologue ties things in to modern times just before the millennium.

Although not the finest example of crime writing (what can I say, it takes a great deal to live up to Christie), I found the mix of history-mystery mix to be quite entertaining. Even better was that I had recently visited some of the places that were described in the stories and it was fun to go back to look at my photographs and imagine the buildings and streets and locations during medieval times.

Its not a keeper book and I will probably trade it in to a second hand bookstore soon enough. But it does make for good light reading; if you consider a little murder and deathly curses light that is. A good carry along for a plane ride or holiday at the beach.

Boy Town

2010-07-27T14:37:00.019-04:00

Not only were the lads at camp more knowledgeable about hair care, apparently their expertise also extended to club wear, accessorising and make up! I certainly have miles to go before I can hope to catch up!

Heat Wave

2010-07-26T16:46:00.075-04:00

The south coast of England has been experiencing one of the hottest and driest summers in recent years. The same can be said for life on campus. Things are heating up.

Last week, I had to add condoms to my list of centre related weekly purchases. This comes after not one, but two emergency runs to the clinic for the morning after pill. After being hauled out of bed at 5 am by a near hysterical 17 year old boy to intervene on his behalf with the group leader who was probably going to go ballistic on him (and rightly so), I threw the rule book out the window and decided that we should start being safe rather than sorry. I figured it sort of count as an on campus activity if enough kids were participating. Heck, as far as I knew, it was probably the best attended activity of them all. Also, I didn't even want to consider the amount of paperwork involved should any of those damn "kids" have a woopsie!

Its not just the kids though. The adults seem to be going sex mad as well. Perhaps its the fact that we're stuck in a remote location and contact with the outside world is minimum; or perhaps its simply the case of what happens at summer camp, is forgotten anyway because we were too damn drunk to sort out the tangles the morning after. Of course this leads to more drama since erm... "overlapping" is bound to occur.

Yep, its been a hot and dry summer. All around me people are on sexual fire, while sadly I've been experiencing a long and very frustrating drought.

Summer Trends: The New Black

2010-07-23T06:38:00.002-04:00

The reasoning behind the colour for our uniforms was sound. We needed to be easily identified in a crowd. With a violent shade as this, I'm pretty sure that if you check satellite footage we visible from the moon, all of us in a row like some human Wall of Activity Leaders.

We didn't have a choice. The dice was cast and the colour of summer 2010 was orange. And so we did the only thing we could, given the circumstances.

We made it look good!

Fashion Fix - The Summer Camp Edition

2010-07-22T07:15:00.012-04:00

When I packed for 7 weeks of summer camp, I included all sorts of practical wear that I figured would come in use for activities involving kids. Stuff that would bode well with arts and crafts sessions involving glue guns gone wild and for days at the beach where I would probably fall over into a pile of soggy seaweed. Jeans, shorts, a couple of scraggy tees and a tank top or two for those extra hot summer days. Same with the shoes - runners, a pair of sandals and flip flops for the beach. Heck, in fact when finally zipped up my bags I was convinced I had in fact over packed!

Turns out I was very wrong. Apparently the memo about after work shenanigans was lost in the mail and so I ended up being the only person on campus who didn't come prepared for multiple nights out at one of the local clubs on (aptly named) Messy Mondays. My colleagues were further shocked to also find out that I hadn't even brought a hair drier and hairbrush; the former on purpose, the latter an oversight. The shock turned to abject horror when they realised that I wasn't too concerned about the lack of hair equipment and declared that my fingers would be fine enough combs. After all I figured, who was even going to be looking?

My colleagues on the other hand had not only got the memo, they'd anticipated all sorts of events including, I believe a Papal visit and planned accordingly. Only that would explain the multiple bags that most of them had brought along. All of this made little sense to me especially since most of the time we were all garbed in those hideous orange t-shirts that passed for a uniform!

After dodging going out for the first few Monday nights by crying poverty, I had little choice after we got our first pay cheques. Fortunately, I had been scheduled for a visit to Portsmouth with a group and a quick poke around the sale bins found me appropriate club attire. But even that wasn't enough. Apparently, my total lack of fashion sense (and sensibilities) and my indifference to doing anything to rectify that had instigated an intervention. While they simultaneously did my hair, tweezed my brows and dabbed on makeup, I came to realise just how bad I was at being a girl. There were at least four of my male colleagues who could not only wield a hair straightener better than me, but also owned their own and most of the boys owned up to being in possession of more hair and beauty products than I even knew existed!

Readers, the kids weren't the only ones getting an education at summer camp. And judging by what I learned that Monday night, I had miles to go before I was going to be able to graduate from the school of Being A Girl.

"Vengence is Mine", said the Activity Leaders

2010-07-20T19:24:00.009-04:00

Given our relatively isolated location, it has become quite common for the staff to send along a shopping wish list with anyone going on an "Asda run". The most common items that top the list are of course alcohol and sweeties, both being absolutely integral to getting though long and tedious 15 hour work days. There's nothing better than knowing you can head over to the staff room for some post work pints and unwind and forget about any messes from the day gone by.

Imagine our collective surprise and dismay when we woke up this morning to find out that someone had broken into the staff room and cleaned out all of our supplies. After we'd gotten over the first shock, the anger set in. It wasn't an "outside job" as the coppers would have said; only someone living on campus would have known the location of the staff room and the fact that we had recently stocked up. There were close to three cases of beer that had been stolen and it didn't take much detective work to figure out who the culprits were. The red rimmed eyes, glazed no sleep gaze and hangover faces and not to mention the fact that they couldn't meet our eyes was evidence enough. And that was even before we found the stack of empties behind their residence block. Still, we didn't have direct proof and we couldn't accuse them of theft without anything conclusive. Yet, something had to be done. If nothing else, we had to send the message to the rest of the kids that such blatant disregard for the rules and shocking behaviour was not going to be tolerated. We were painfully aware that they outnumbered us 10 to 1!

And so, it was with particular glee we gathered all the kids together later that day to make a special announcement. We explained that the campus management had been getting increasingly frustrated with the growing amount of litter on campus. Repeated appeals didn't seem to have worked and we needed to take things one step further. Which was why, effective immediately the kids were going to take responsibility for their own surroundings. Every day, a random group would be chosen to assist the campus maintenance staff with clean up duties thus ensuring that the campus remained litter free at all times.

The collective groans from the group quickly changed to covert snickers and sly nudges when the names of the first group of clean up helpers was announced. Every single of the (assumed) guilty party stepped forward to collect their clean up tools from a broadly grinning member of staff who had suffered the heart wrenching loss of stolen alcohol.

Three hours later when they trooped back to the office, we had a spotless campus and a properly chastised group of children who we knew would think twice about crossing swords with the ALs again.

Mission Accomplished.

Makeover

2010-07-19T19:39:00.001-04:00

In keeping with the general theme of new beginnings and new experiences of this summer, I've decieded that the blog itself was in a state of a much needed upgrade. A revamped look to match my current sentiments.

The new design templates available is fantastic allowing techically challenged wonders like me to make changes without having to deconstruct HTML coding and the such. But the options are vast and I soon got very confused.

After 4 hours and multiple edits, this is what I finally decided on.

So, waddya think?

The Popular Vote

2010-07-18T15:32:00.000-04:00

Summer camp is lovely; but it can also be a flash back to the high school type atmosphere of groups and cliques and the ever lasting battle between the cool kids and the rest of us mere mortals.

Within a few days of arriving here, I'd sussed out that there were various sub groups forming. Alliances had been made and while some hold all the right cards, there are others who will remain on the outside. By some miracle, I was admitted into the inner circle; but only just as I remain hovering near the edge. It is my inability, or rather my unwillingness to give in and just go with the flow; I ask too many questions, I refuse to let certain things just slide, I don't abide with mediocrity. All this made some people uncomfortable.

Some of my colleagues have been doing this for a number of years. It makes them experienced, but in many respects it also makes them lethargic. They've gone to the same museums, been on the same day trips and facilitated the same activities so many times that they're now running on auto pilot. On the other hand, there are other ALs who although cannot cite years of summer camp experience under their belt, are in fact quite happy and very eager to actually perform the duties for which we were all hired! But, just like in high school, if the "in" crowd isn't doing it, well it just ain't cool for you to go ahead and do it anyway.

Yesterday on a day trip to Brighton I was paired up with one of those cool kids. He made it very clear to me that I was to follow his lead and that meant giving the groups a quicky tour of the pier, pointing them in the direction of the shops and setting a meet back time. This would mean hours of free time for us to go off and do whatever we wanted. It wasn't like he was shirking his duties, just that I know we could have done so much better with pointing out the sights and sounds. And so I made a snap decision and announced to the group that I was heading off to the famed Pavilion and would be happy to take anyone who wanted to go there with me. More than half the group joined me. My colleague didn't say anything, but as he walked off towards the beach I knew he wasn't pleased. It hadn't been my intention to make him look bad, it just that I really wasn't comfortable with the situation.

I hadn't really prepared a walking tour and most of what I knew about Brighton and the Pavilion I had read on Wikipedia the day before! Still, at least it was something and I really do think the kids and the group leaders had a good time. Once done with the Pavillion, the consensus was for shopping and so I left them to it. Even after the additional tour, I still managed to have two hours to myself.

On the bus ride back, I got teased for being a keener. Perhaps I am. Perhaps I will be the butt of many jokes in the staff room. Perhaps I won't be on the next round of text messages inviting people to post work drinks.

Then again, I never did belong at the cool kids table. So I guess I'm ok with that after all.

Thoughts on an Anniversary

2010-07-15T20:12:00.002-04:00

Today is my one year anniversary living in the UK.

I was super excited when I arrived. That quickly disintegrated into long months of grief and loneliness. But I hammered through that, and now its in the past. It won't be easily forgotten, but it will be something that I can learn from.

Happy One Year to me.

Bring on the next 365 days!

Man Candy

2010-07-14T19:58:00.001-04:00

About the only drawback about my time here at the summer camp, has been the total and utter lack of man candy around this place.

My male colleagues are a nice enough bunch, but none that would warrant a double take; at least not for me. Besides, they're all way to young. Not inexperienced - if we are to believe all that is said during the various drinking games - but just too young for me. There are a few kids who are drop dead gorgeous. I've counted two lads, a Frenchie and one Italian. But they are all no more than 18 and really I feel a bit pervy even just mentioning them. That being said, I did ask the one if he had an older brother. Discretely of course. I managed to make it into an exercise in English: I have brothers and/or sisters. They are xxx old. Their names are....

Of course the one piece of awesome man meat that was to be found here left. The former Centre Administrator was one very (very) sweet specimen of manhood and I'm just gutted that my good luck at landing the promotion had to come at the price of his leaving. Knowing that you, dear Reader would want to judge for yourself I did manage to take a few shots at the football tournament last week.

Mmmmmm, yummy is my thought. What do you think?

A Love Affair

2010-07-13T15:03:00.004-04:00

It was supposed to be 3 weeks of a summer job. Plan activities for the kids; teach them some new skills; take them on walks, trips and excursions; keep them out of trouble; make some friends and hopefully have a good time in the process.

What I did not expect was to become a teacher, mentor, friend, counselor, mother, big sister, vengeance angel, hall monitor, centre administrator and general all round go-to girl.

Over the past two weeks, I have yelled at kids one moment, then comforted another lot the next. Dealt with every type of teenage aggro - smoking, drinking, fist fights, bullying and truancy to name just a few. Just when I want to take the entire lot and drown them in the harbour, they turn around and do something wonderful and caring and so I let them live another day.

There have been water fights, walks to the beach, football tournaments, cross dressing discos, X factor style talent contests, movie nights, moonlit walks, all nighters, heart-to-hearts, stomach aching laughter, some tears, one kiss and more hugs than I can remember.

My contract here has been extended until the end of the month. Perhaps for longer should the need arise. Oh sweet summer, how I am loving thee!

Mind That Language!

2010-07-11T13:37:00.043-04:00

Last year as I packed for my relocation to G Town I was very conscious of the fact that I was moving to a place where although people claimed to speak English, it was a far cry from the English that I knew and loved. It was a garbly-goo version that drew perplexed looks even folk on the other side of Scotland. Still, I persevered and after much random smiling and nodding during my first few months here, I eventually tuned my ear into the melody of Weegie-speak. We will ignore the fact that I probably agreed to all sorts of unmentionable stuff in the process of being lost in translation.

There was a lot that I was nervous about as I packed my bags to head to England for this summer, but one thing that I didn't think would be a problem was, language.

Well, it should have been.

Other than four Irish folk, the rest of my colleagues are all English hailing from as far north as Newcastle and as close by as Portsmouth itself. All of them claim English as their first language. Yet, I'm having the darnedest time with comprehension. The accents are broad and varied, the phrases they use totally alien and the words don't seem to have the same meanings that I am used to.

And so I've resorted to the tried and tested coping mechanism of smiling and nodding. Again, I'm not sure what I have agreed to or promised out. I'm sure I'll find out over the course of the summer!

All in a Week's Work

2010-07-09T00:19:00.007-04:00

It hardly seems possible that it was a mere week ago that I stepped off the bus in south of England, arriving at the destination for my much anticipated summer job. The days have passed in a whirlwind like blur and if I am to judge by the time here, then the summer is definitely going to be an interesting one. The best way I can describe it would be akin to a roller coaster ride; dizzying highs, then some scary lows followed by some twists and turns enough to curdle the milk in your tummy. But put together, a very exciting and exhilarating experience.

The camp houses kids from all over Europe who come here for anywhere from two week to 2 months to improve their English language skills. There are about 12 teachers and 15 activities staff on site and we all share one computer with internet access! I was hired to be an Activities Leader which means that its my job to keep the kids amused and more importantly provide enough distractions to keep them out of trouble when they're not in classes. This includes on site activities like arts & crafts, dance, drama, sport, games, themed nights etc. and also trips and excursions to surrounding places of interest like Bournemouth, historic Portsmouth docks, Beaulieu in the New Forest region, Oxford, London and more.

Two days after I got here, the Centre Administrator abruptly quit and I was offered the job. It meant a pay raise and room and board covered. It also meant that I wouldn't be able to do a lot of the things that I had been looking forward to - mainly the trips! While I was contemplating this decision, the centre managers made the decision for me by offering the job to another AL.... and she accepted. Suffice to say, the next morning when I went into the office to accept the job, I was told "Thanks... but the position has been filled!" This might have phased me at one time, but not now. I was done with being pushed around and taken for granted these past few months and there was no way I was going to take this lightly. So I spoke to the centre manager and let him know that I considered this whole situation was utterly unprofessional and asked simply that he fix it. The solution was that both of us share the job role. To compensate for the mess up, he offered to wave all costs for accommodation and food for the duration of my contract. In retrospect, this has actually worked out better as now I get a higher salary and can still keep doing some of the activities with the kids. But I'm not going to let management know that. They should really know better and hopefully have learned an invaluable HR lesson out of this situation.

For now, I'm settling in and trying to sort out both professional and personal roles here. The other ALs are really nice, but all so damn young! The oldest of the lot is just 25 and the average age is 21. They haven't seemed to catch on to how old I am, and I'm taking care to keep vital pieces of information safe. I'm not ashamed about my age, rather just don't want to labelled before they have a chance to get to know me and figure out that mentally I'm probably younger than all of them put together.

We work hard and long hours. But we party hard as well. This summer is going to be a good one. I can feel it.

Observations from behind a Customer Service Desk

2010-06-22T06:14:00.006-04:00

There were six glorious weeks over April and May when I was too busy to blog because of work. And although I missed the interaction with my imaginary friends, I will have to admit that truly enjoyed the feeling of being busy and productive for a change.

The upside of all those blogless days was being able to gather oodles of anecdotes to share with you. As a customer service rep in a busy shopping centre I had the privilege of interacting with some very interesting specimens of humanity. Unlike the Oscars where the lists of mentions are long and boring, I've chosen instead to focus on the most brilliant, funny, amusing and touching sightings that I now share with you.

A rather large middle aged woman wearing a t shirt that read " Man Eater". Half of me applauded her nerve while the other half was dying to ask her if that meant she had literally devoured one of the male species. She sure looked like she'd had a rather large lunch.
Tween gay boys shopping with their tween girlie pals. About the only wise thing I've seen from the girls of this place. Coz really, their boyfriends would NOT put up with long hours of mindless window shopping and of them trying out endless outfits all in a bid for the "Who's Cutest" crown.
On the other end of that spectrum, we have the long suffering husbands holding multiple carrier bags either walking a couple of steps behind their bustling wives or standing around at designated spots waiting for the women to materialise out of various shops.
Old dears with their bus pass hanging around their neck reminding me of kindergarten kids who have their hankies pinned to their shirts. Ah, bless!
Ugly parents with surprisingly cutie babies that make me think about the miracle of genetics.... and hospital swaps.
The ability of mums or child minders to simply block out and effectively ignore the otherwise penetrating siren like wails emitting from their charges.
Mothers and daughters out shopping together. Sometimes, accompanied by Gramma, Aunties and a cousin or two. Family resemblances abound. Sometimes a blessing, other times more like a curse and a definitive reason for cosmetic surgery.
Couples that dress alike. Never a good thing no matter what your age. Particularly disturbing when they get matching his and her fake tans.

There were the folk that stopped by the desk. 95% of the time they wanted directions to the toilets and my colleagues and I used to come up with a number of ways to lead them to the destination. The customer service desk itself was situated on the lower level in front of a large Boots store. And yet, we would have at least one or two people EACH SHIFT who'd stop by our desk to ask directions to..... the Boots store. I would also like to point out that my chair and desk backed the store so in fact they'd actually be facing the store while asking me the question!

Then there was that one time when a lady came up to me asking about the hairdressers on the second floor. I told her that we didn't have one on the second floor, but there was one on the lower level.
Lady: No, No. Its on the second floor of the XYZ shopping centre. I know it is!
Me: Ma'am you do realise that this is the ABC shopping centre? XYZ is across the street.
Lady: Well of course I know that. But this is information isn't it?
Me: *sigh*

Or the time when E and I were approached by one of G Town's finest teenage population.
Boy: Cannae tell me whey *grifbidhvghs* is?
Me/E: Erm... pardon?
Boy: *ahcuyrkjib* - I'm lookin' fore eet.
Me/E: *walking round to be closer to him* Sorry, we still didn't get that.
Boy: *looking at us like we're special*
Me: I know, why don't you write it down for us!
Boy: *walks off in disgust*
E: Pixy, you're asking a NED to spell something other than his name?

Yes, very silly of me indeed. No wonder the lad thought I was special.

While we're at it, we mustn't forget the Grabbers, so called because they'll pick up anything and everything that's not nailed down. Promotion leaflets, discount flyers, free magazines, scraps of paper all of it goes rapidly into their over sized bags already full with junk that they've picked up at various other places.

Also high on the list were the Regulars. The folk who day in and day out were at the shopping centre. Mostly window shopping, browsing, looking around. Characters, each one of them. Some would wave a hello as they went passed, others would stop to chat for a while. One in particular would stay and chat for a while. Sometimes a really long while. But she is a lovely person, just looking to fill some of her day with affable company. I can understand and appreciate that.

There were also a host of lovely fellow centre employees I met during the assignment. Security staff, cleaners, shop assistants and more. Of course, I made friends with the good people at the coffee shop on my very first day! And most of all the lovely Tigger; first colleague and now friend. Sometimes a job can give you so much more than just a pay cheque.

A Midsummer's Night's Fauxpas

2010-06-20T07:11:00.005-04:00

For some weeks now, a friend has been telling me about the free comedy night at the Halt Bar in the west end of G Town. G has recently started his journey as a stand up comedian and of course its always best when you fill the venue with friends sympathetic to your cause. I'd been meaning to check the place out for sometime, but things kept getting in the way. Finally, last week I made it.

The evening had a bit of a shaky start as G was running late which meant that I sat at the bar nursing a beer until the gig began. I'm very used to being solo on many occasions and at many venues; a bar is just not one of them. Thankfully it wasn't a terribly long wait and as soon as the host got on stage I figured people would focus on him and not at the looser at the bar by herself!

Divided into 3 sets, the evening featured six amateurs and one professional act. The amateurs ranged from an absolute novice who snapped the proverbial cherry that night to others who had been on a circuit for some time but were still dabbling. Most of them had good material and garnered laughs from the audience. One of them was totally weird, but hey... there's one in every crowd isn't there?

Post event, G introduced me to some of his pals including the evenings host. Turning to greet him, I wasn't prepared for the explosive Is this her? Is she the one? that was yelled in my face. Choking back the laughter at my bewildered expression, G explained things to me. Back when E (his gf) and I were working together at the shopping centre, we used to kill the long hours by playing our favourite game of rate-the-customers. Apparently, the host walked by one day and I declared that I wasn't quite sure whether or not I considered him cute and placed him in an "undecided" category. A week later, E met him at one of G's comedy events and recognised him as my ambivalent ratee and told G all about it. G being a boy blabbed the whole thing to the man himself.

As G narrated the story, I felt myself turning a whiter shade of pale quickly followed by the warm heat of embarrassment creeping into my cheeks. Thankfully the host was laughing about it and he soon walked away. Still, he hadn't quite forgotten about my assessment - or the lack of it - and as we left the bar later he turned to me and said, Nice to meet you Pixy. Hopefully we'll meet again soon and who knows, you might have made up your mind by then?

Huum. Guess that means I'll have to go back for another look some time soon.

Facts and Figures

2010-06-18T11:07:00.006-04:00

335 days since I arrived into G Town last year, full of hope. The possibilities were endless.

302 days since I got dumped the first time. Suddenly, possibilities had limitations.

16 days since I got dumped the second time. By the same guy.

17 days since I washed my hands off him once and for all. About time eh?

3 - the number of people that have opted to turn their back on me. Their loss.

21 - new friendships that I have forged, including imaginary online blog buddies!

290 days since I moved into my flat and found out that I'd struck gold on the flatmate meter.

260 days since Nana passed away.

49 days since Papa followed her.

5 - beautiful surprise cards and gifts sent by loving friends to cheer me up. Bless them!

4 - plants bought to cheer myself up!

500 (and counting) - the number of times I have thanked the Heavens for the gift of family, of friends and of love.

156 days since I hugged a family member.

17 days that I got to share VBFs parents and have a Mommy around.

277 job applications sent out.

65 - days that I've worked over the past 10 months.

£700 - the amount that an ex employer owes me.

34, 20, 14 - the number of phone calls, text messages and emails that I have sent that ex employer.

2 - the number of times I have wished the pox upon him. Bastard.

14 - the number of pounds I have dropped in weight since moving here. The all yogurt diet sure helps.

7 - food dishes that I mastered cooking before I moved onto the all yogurt diet.

3 - the number of holidays I have had in the past year; India, Paris and the Netherlands. Not bad for someone who is financially broken.

10 days until I leave for England and a new opportunity.

43 days of confirmed employment. Thankfully.

365 days until my visa expires. The possibilities are endless.

Out with the Old and In with the New

2010-06-13T17:44:00.004-04:00

With the temperatures soaring high in the early 20Cs taking a drive with Gingersnap and Colossus on Saturday seemed to be the perfect idea. Even better then that our drive took us over to the tiny little town of Catrine in North Ayrshire where we made a stop at the Catrine House ice cream parlour for some award winning traditionally churned yummy goodness!

And then on our way back we popped into a garden centre where I picked up this little beauty for my front window. I've named her Bonnie, as in banks of Loch Lomond and I have a feeling that she and I are going to be very good friends.
The shamrock hasn't been thrown out, but that's only because I haven't had the time. I'm thinking we need to start with a clean slate tomorrow. After all, Bonnie's going to need the space on the windowsill!

That Special Effect

2010-06-09T18:01:00.000-04:00

Over the past 10 months since moving to G Town, I seem to have developed a whole new kind of relationship with my parents. Where as before we merely coexisted in the same house with sporadic conversations, we now talked long and often about everything and anything. I thought that I had gotten to know them very well indeed. Apparently, there was still much to learn.

During yesterday's conversation with my mum I was confiding in her as to just how vulnerable I now felt, thanks to the last few months of madness. In trying to explain how I felt, I compared this feeling to my long term fear of heights. In spite of ~~not being comfortable with heights~~ being deathly afraid of heights, I've never let that deter me from climbing to the topmost viewing station on a tower or going on a hike up a perilous path just to be able to get an amazing view from the top. I confessed that I was now terrified of scaling those heights in everyday life. There was a job I had heard of which would be an amazing opportunity and I was afraid to even apply as the fear of failure loomed large.

My mum listened to my rant not saying a word. When I had finished, there was a little pause and she cleared her throat. Listen to me Pixy, she said. Do not let that idiotic fool of a boy stop you from anything. He has caused enough mischief and problems and you cannot allow your life to be dictated by the actions of a bloody arsehole who does not understand the meaning of common decency.

The advice was sound and I would have been suitably consoled by her words had I not been gobsmacked instead as I realised that I had just heard my mother swear for the first time ever.

Beans really should be proud of the overwhelming effect he has had on the women in my family.

The Omen

2010-06-07T18:10:00.002-04:00

A few months ago to celebrate St. Paddy's day, I bought a little shamrock plant. It was the cutest little thing and I found a nice little pot at a charity shop to plant it in. The months went on and the little shamrock grew and thrived along side the other members of my green family.

About 3 weeks ago, I noticed a change. The little bugger seemed dull and listless and there were more dead leaves than green ones on the plant. I wondered if the roots were getting a little rotten and so I tried loosening up the soil and adjusting the watering schedule. Even moved it to a new spot hoping that it would find some new mojo.

But by the time I returned from the Netherlands, it was looking very bad for Paddy. If I were a plant doctor, I would be calling in the relatives and asking them to pay their last respects. I put out an appeal on Facebook hoping that someone out there would have an idea as to how to revive a dying plant. What I didn't expect was to get the following response:

Its a sign. Let the bastard die!

Oh, how long and hard I laughed. I never considered these things, but perhaps it is a sign indeed. And so, I've left it alone on the windowsill and will allow it to figure out whether or not it wants to be a part of my life. It has one more week before it gets dumped into the bin and I move on to something else. Gerber daisies or geraniums perhaps?

Walking on Sunshine

2010-06-03T19:32:00.003-04:00

After the initial shock of getting that nasty email which led to a really sad sad evening, a night of next to no sleep and a day trip to Amsterdam that had to be cut short due to illness, I got back to Barbie's house and as soon as I could I got online and called my parents in Canada.

An hour or so later, I hung up and felt so much better.

I told them everything. All The Crap from the past 8 months culminating in the email from the day before. For the first time there was no dodging the facts or trying to shield them from the bare bones truth. A lot of it they already knew; had pieced together from the information that I had been giving them and inferred the rest. But it felt good to just get every single thing off my chest. And to cry. Without shame, without reserve.

At the end of it, I was exhausted and my eyes were so swollen they were almost shut. But my heart was light. That night, there was no tossing and turning. From the minute my head hit the pillow to the moment the alarm went off the next morning I had slept the sleep of the dead.

Barbie and I spent the last day of my vacation at the beach. She was scheduled to work that day and had asked the manager if I could tag along. He agreed on the condition that I make myself useful by taking pictures of the day's events. Which basically meant I got to hang around a beach on a beautiful sunny day and play with a fancy camera that I would otherwise get to use only in my dreams.

My flight got in pretty late and exhausted after the long day I tumbled right in to bed.

The alarm had been set for 8:30 am, but I was awake long before that. The sun was streaming in the window and even through my half shut groggy eyes I could tell that it was going to be a spectacular day. Just the perfect day to have an outdoor job. To take people around a fascinating city and tell them stories about amazing people, places and events. I felt like I was on top of the world. The tips were awesome.

Got back to G Town and headed over to meet some friends for a Comedy Night pub quiz. They commented on how I seemed to be on a high and that's exactly what it was. A high. All day long. I cannot stop smiling or laughing (a bit awkward when you're by yourself on the bus back home) and I was literally dancing, not walking down streets.

Logic told me that this was all wrong. That I was supposed to be sad and mopey. The email signified the finality to any hope of any long term relationship that I had hoped for with Beans. And yet, that email had somehow set me free.

It is just 1:00 am. And I should be dead tired after waking up at 7:00 am, going into E City, conducting a 3.5 hr walking tour, returning and going to a night out. But I'm not. I feel that I can do it all over again, right here, right now.

I don't know what's going on. All I know is that for some absurd, magical, wonderful reason I no longer care about Beans and all the mess of the last months. She can have him. He can have her. Ironically, I found out that her name is the same as mine. Bizarre eh? But, I digress. It seems like my brain no longer wants to care about being dumped, being humiliated, being used and abused. It has gone on some sort of vacation from those bad thoughts leaving me instead with the feeling that a wide and wonderful door has opened up beyond which there is a veritable plethora of endless possibilities. Am I mixing my metaphors? I don't care. Never professed to being a writer!

I'm not quite sure if I'm done loving him. I've been trying to wrap my head around my manic feelings for some time now, but with no answers. What I do know, is that finally, I love myself more.

Readers, I feel like I'm walking on sunshine. And DAMN does it feel so good!

**Disclaimer**
No, I am not and have not indulged in any sort of "treat" that Amsterdam is notorious for. Whatever high I'm on, its all self produced! Imagine if I could bottle this and mass produce!

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

2010-05-31T14:32:00.005-04:00

Perhaps spurred into action by Aunty's choice remarks last week, Beans messaged me at work last Sunday. He knew it was my last shift doing customer service at one of the shopping centres in central G Town. Wanna get some ice cream? went the text.

Being a lovely and totally un G Town like day (i:e bright and sunny and warm), we took our ice creams and headed down to the river for a walk. We settled down on a patch of grass and there in the sunshine, Beans asked me if I'd like to try dating again.

At this point Dear Reader, you need to know some back story. I had thought Beans to be dating someone back in Feb. Turns out, it was A date and that was it. She told me herself, ironically at the next charity event when we met. She hadn't known about me and Beans at all, still doesn't as I kept my mouth shut. Beans and I had been on cordial terms for a long time. Occassionally we would meet up for a movie or dinner or something that sounded like a date, but really wasn't. Yes, there was sex from time to time. Not regular and not often, but sometimes it happened. Please don't judge me, I am merely human.

Bottom line, things were actually quite good between us.

And then he drops this bombshell. I was uncharacteristicly quiet as I considered the question. six months ago, I would have jumped at the chance of a reunion, but now I wasn't so sure. I had finally found myself in a good place; rather a better place than the bog I was struggling in ever since last September. Convinced that the doorway leading to a relationship had been slammed shut forever, I had tried so hard to work on maintaining a semblance of a friendship between us. After all, it wasn't possible to totally cut off ties. We had too many friends in common and our paths were always going to keep crossing socially.

When I gave my answer, it was a guarded one. I did agree to try again, but I also stipulated that if we were going to date, it would have to be something that we both worked on. We would need to try and truly include the other in our lives and yes, the dating would have to be exclusive. Beans agreed to it all.

I met him briefly last Thursday, the evening before I left for my holiday. There dídn't seem to be anything amiss. Then today, I get back from a totally lovely day of sighseeing with my friend, open up my email and find this waiting for me:

Pixy,
As you know, our relationship has been over for quite some time now and has
been purely physical since then. I've really enjoyed the times we've spent alone
together. I'm really sorry, but, on Friday I met someone and I think I've got a
chance to make a go of it. Although I don't want to exclude you from my life, I
don't think its a good idea that we continue the relationship we've been having
until recently. I hope you understand where I'm coming from as I think this is
for the best and the last thing I want to do is hurt you.
Beans.

Reader, HOW could I have let myself get fooled yet again? And dammit.... couldn't he have waited just a few more days so that I would at least have a decent holiday?

*shakes head sadly*

In Memoriam

2010-05-29T05:21:00.003-04:00

Today marks a month since Papa passed away. My family will be gathering together, both in Canada and in Bombay to pay respects to him. I am away, a wanderer off on my own. There is no family near by to seek out. Instead, I share these thoughts and words with you Dear Reader; you who have become such an important part of my life and most certainly as close as a family.

Below is the eulogy written for Papa. I had written the original outline and my cousin cleaned it up a bit and added in some of her thoughts as well. She read it out on our behalf at the funeral mass. I hope that through our words you too can share in the spirit of this incredible man.

Most of us who are here are here because we knew my grandfather --- whether as Lauriano, or uncle, or Irmao, or Padrin, or Mr Mendonca, or Daddy, or Papa. Some of us will, indeed, remember him most vividly for pinching our cheeks really, really hard. So since we all know him, it hardly seems necessary to talk about him --- but perhaps this will help us relive some memories.

Ever since Thursday, when he left us, I have been thinking that I will never be privileged to meet a more gracious person than him. We all know that, despite not having much education, he took every opportunity for learning in establishing a career, moving up from being an accounting clerk at West End Watch co, to being the General Manager, the first non-white person to hold that position. But many of us will also know that along with this achievement, Papa never forgot his duty and responsibility to share his success with others and help them make their own successes and build their own futures.

He was such a kind man and a generous one. Generous to a fault maybe, always giving without counting the cost. But generous in giving materially as well as in spirit --- he forgave people who wronged him and didn't hold grudges.

Career apart, he was a wonderful family man --- a loving and loyal husband to Grana, a dutiful and caring son to his mother and mother-in-law, a good father, an affectionate grandfather. He may not have been a modern guy -- you would never see him carrying babies or changing diapers -- but he carried us all in his heart and did whatever he could to protect and nurture us.

He lived a full life in other senses as well. Many of us will remember how fond he was of reading, especially his favourite books, The Count of Monte Cristo and The Song of Bernadette. Some of us will also recall that he was quite a movie buff. And many of us would have enjoyed the fulfillment of his dream of having a house in the hills, at picnics and holidays in Khandala, the house he delighted in for more than 2 decades.

He enjoyed discussion and was quite opinionated, so that birthday parties sometimes seemed like meetings of the debating club. Without question, he was very stubborn -- a trait several of his children and grandchildren have inherited. But this stubbornness also helped him stand up for what he believed in and defend anyone he felt was being treated unfairly. He had such a solid sense of ethics.

We will miss his deadpan sense of humor, making unexpected jokes that were always memorable.

Above all, he was steadfast in his faith. He was devoted to Our Lady. At the end, even when he struggled to find the strength to speak, the words of the Hail Mary and the Angelus flowed freely.

Yes, he was gracious. Till the end, when he had become a man of very few words, those words often expressed concern, hospitality, gratitude. "Eat and go," "How is Mummy?" "Tell her not to worry," "Take care," Thank you, " "Kind regards, " and if you said you were going to visit, "Most welcome." These were the things he said most often. Whatever suffering he faced in the last year or so, he bore silently, without a moan or groan or a word of complaint or frustration. Till the end he was saying "Thank you" to his doctors and caregivers.

He was given to us by God for nearly 96 years. Yet it seems as if we got to walk only a few miles together. Still, I know I'm luckier than many who never knew their grandparents, for they had died or lived far away. And even as we know we'll miss him, and miss the second home that Grana and he made for us, we are thankful for that irreplaceable gift of Papa and the memories we have of him.

Last Supper

2010-05-19T13:08:00.003-04:00

Beans was over last night to dinner to say hello to Aunty and Uncle. He's known them for a number of years, Aunty especially who had made several trips to G Town when VBF was doing her Masters.

As we sat back after dinner, bellies bursting, Beans began to compliment Aunty on her amazing culinary skills and bemoaned the fact that she didn't visit often enough now, as she had done in the past.

Aunty mentioned that now that VBF was off living with the in-laws, it was harder to come visit as there wasn't any place she (or Uncle) could stay. My being here was just providential. Beans poo pooed her reasons stating that any time they wanted to visit, he had a spare room in his apartment and they were welcome there any time.

Sipping her cup of tea, Aunty smiled at Beans. Thank you my dear, she said. Staying at your house would be lovely. But whatever would I do if you suddenly tire of me and then ask me to leave?

Amid the spatter of badly muffled giggles Beans had the grace to blush. Aunty kept sipping her tea and settled back into the armchair. On the other side of the room Beans shuffled uncomfortably in his seat wondering if the the slight burning in his belly was from the spicy Indian food or from the dab of arsenic that Aunty *may* have dropped into his plate.

Excuses, Excuses

2010-05-15T18:29:00.002-04:00

May has been the worst month ever for blogging. Its not that there's nothing happening. In fact, just the contrary.

I've been working constantly and between the three jobs I literally haven't had a day off since the 8th and won't have one until the 25th! This is not a complaint though as I need every single penny that I can possibly earn.

In addition, VBF's parents' visit has been keeping busy. Although I've been at work and haven't really been able to hang out all that much, there's been an awful lot of time taken up with all the overladen dinners almost every night.

Prawn Pulao.
Chicken curry.
Spinach and potato bhaji.
Aloo tikkis.
Baingan bhajiyas.
Gobi bhaji.
Daal. So much daal.
Hot hot chapatis.

The list is endless. The kitchen has been turned into a culinary haven. And I'm too busy stuffing my face most every night to sit down and blog about it!

Unadulterated Pleasure

2010-05-11T09:25:00.005-04:00

My college pal returned to London last Friday morning and a mere 5 hours after he left, I was already welcoming round 2 of visitors!

VBF's parents are in town and staying at my place over the next two weeks. Although it may sound like chaos having someone else's parents over and having to give up your room (and bed) to them, trust me guys, I'm the one in the winning seat. Already, I'm reaping the benefits of their visit. Awesome home cooked meals wait for me every evening and a bunch of the little handy jobs that I had lined up but had been putting off for weeks, are all magically done!

Uncle D and Aunty P had asked me over and over what I would like from India and over and over I had replied nothing. It wasn't that I was being coy. I had just been to the Motherland a few months ago and had gotten everything that I needed/wanted. Besides, I did know that in true Indian parental style they would be loading up on gifts for VBF and her husband and her in-laws. So very firmly I told them NOT to bring me anything. Anything at all.

Fortunately, in equally true Indian parent style they didn't listen. And they brought me something so very special and so very welcome. Four whole Alphonso mangoes. Ripe and yummy and full of delicious golden loveliness.
If you've never had one, well mere words will just not be able to describe just how delicious and succulent these mangoes are; they're not called the king of all fruit for no reason. I have always imagined that the nectar of the Gods was perhaps made out of the juice of a ripe Alphanso mango.

Four mangoes. Four nights of unadulterated culinary pleasure. And yes, there were soft moans that accompanied each session.

In Which the Author Realises One of her Life Dreams

2010-05-08T15:07:00.002-04:00

It was exactly a week after Papa had died that I found myself back in Edinburgh. One of my college pals was visiting Scotland and it was time to check out the capital city. Coincidentally, it was also the day I was scheduled to run a 3pm tour. My very first!

We got into Edinburgh early enough and as per my friend's request, we headed right for the castle where we wandered around for a few hours. I was both excited and nervous about the tour; I knew my script and had rehearsed it well. Whether or not I succeeded would depend on so many factors that were totally out of my control. Heck, at around 2:50 pm I was wondering if I would even get to run the tour since no one had showed up to the starting point.

Thankfully, there were a bunch of last minute shows and my first tour ran with a decent 14 tourists who thankfully were a nice and happy lot. My knees were knocking together so loudly during the introduction and I was so sure that everyone around could hear them as well! Still, the knees and my thumping heart both settled down soon enough to allow me to continue on with the tour with (hardly) any incident!

There was a nice round of applause at the end which led me to believe that they had enjoyed being on the tour just as much as I had enjoyed running it. The healthy tips that were thrust into my hands as I bid them farewell cemented the fact that tour #1 had indeed been a roaring success.

Time to check off another of the boxes on my bucket list!

The Answer to a Prayer

2010-04-30T14:59:00.007-04:00

Everyone who loved him, not just the family, had been praying with all their might these past few months. Dear God, be merciful. Please don't let him suffer any more.

Yesterday, our prayers were answered.

He is finally at peace and back together with Nana again. And I close my eyes and whisper a fervent Thank You.

Book Review - Espresso Tales

2010-04-24T17:30:00.014-04:00

The "research" into Scottish culture continues with this offering from Edinburgh based writer. McCaul Smith first captured my attention with his series about a feisty lady detective set in Bostwana.

Espresso Tales is the second volume of stories about a random collection of people living in a block of flats. I am curious to know if some of the landmarks like shops and cafes he mentions actually do exist and look forward to exploring more of the city in the upcoming months as I begin work there.

Working Girl

2010-04-24T14:54:00.006-04:00

This past week saw me join a group of people of whom I have been wildly envious of these past few months. After being ingloriously shipwrecked by the evil and villainous pirate (also known as my former employer), my rather dilapidated life raft finally found its way to the shores of employment.

And so, Wednesday saw me scurrying off to catch the underground to the city centre. It was Day 1 of Job 1. Rather uneventful really, but I was just so damn happy to be there! My duties are simple; to man the customer service counter and assist shoppers with their queries. Which really translates into sitting at desk and directing people to the washrooms. In a 7 hour shift, I told 167 people how to find the washrooms. Of course, I only started keeping track in my second hour, so I might have missed a few.

Friday was Day 1 of Job 2 which right now is sitting at a part time contract at least until the end of May. Ironically, this job has me doing exactly what Former Boss Man had hired me to do. And also for another building company. Let's just hope that this company is better run!

Job 3 with the Edinburgh tour company is scheduled to begin in early May. I don't yet have a schedule, or have any paperwork from the company, but I'm hoping to hear more at a meeting with the team leader next week.

Job 4 doesn't begin until early July. I'll be spending 6 weeks in England - 3 at Southsea and 3 at Oxford. I'm looking at this as a two for one deal where I get to live and work and a new places in the UK.

Its been hectic to say the least and lots of running from one job to the next. After just a few days, I'm exhausted. But I'd rather be dead tired than dead broke. I'm sure that things will settled down into some sort of a routine over the next few weeks. For now, I'm just enjoying being a working girl again!

Plan B

2010-04-16T20:06:00.000-04:00

Any post written between the 15th and 20th of this month was supposed to have been written from the seaside town of Schoorl in the Netherlands. However thanks to evil dust particles from erupting Icelandic volcanoes with unpronounceable names, I'm stuck in G Town for the next little while.

Ironically, in spite of being surrounded by the ash of all evil, G Town has been having the most amazing weather of late. Loath to waste all this excessive sunshine I spent most of yesterday afternoon wandering around the west end and finally settled down on the steps of the Kelvingrove museum for a long read in a warm sunshine.

Later in the evening Gingersnap, Colossus and myself took a drive out to Carmunnock just south of the city. From our vantage point, we had a great view of the sunset over the city. We had hoped that the volcanic ash would provide some interesting vistas, but perhaps we were a day or two too late for that. Still its hard not to find beauty in a sunset and ash or not, this one was just as lovely.

Anatomy of an Incredible Day

2010-04-15T05:23:00.003-04:00

10:00 am
Catch the bus to Edinburgh. Once there, meet up with a friend from Canada and head over to her place. We chit, we chat. Then she leaves me to settle down and prepare for........

12:30 pm
Phone interview with an English language school for a 6 week summer placement job as activity coordinator for the students. The recruiter is really nice and friendly and it doesn't even seem like an interview. About 10 minutes into our conversation, she confirms that this is just a formality and that I had landed the job based on my CV and written application (Hurrah for brilliant essay writing skills!)

2:00 pm
I head off to my test tour. It goes on for 2 WHOLE HOURS and is really really really tough! The assistant manager, who was taking my test, had a deadpan expression the entire time I was talking, and that gave me no idea if I was on the right track or not. Anyway, I tried to pretend that I was presenting to a group of wildly interested tourists and gamely went on! At the end, he told me that although he really liked my passion and the delivery and my presentation skills, he felt that I hadn't yet gotten totally comfortable with the material and that I needed more work on my script. And so, he told me that he was going to recommend that I be given a "conditional pass". This would mean that I would need to take another test in a few weeks time so that they can be sure I was totally ready.
It wasn't the answer I wanted to hear... but hey... at least it wasn't an outright no. So I left that feeling quite good.

5:00 pm
As I'm on my way to catch the bus back to Glasgow, my phone rings. Its the recruitment agency that I had met with 2 weeks ago. They were calling to ask if I would be interested in a part time opportunity for next week. By the end of that phone call I have 3 days of work confirmed for next week, with the potential for it to carry on into the week after as well.

6:00 pm (ish)
On the bus back to Glasgow. The phone rings again. This time, it is the Edinburgh tour manager.
Well Pixy, he says, I think you know what I'm going to say.....
Me: Yeah, AM mentioned that I was.......
Him: YOU'RE IN (big yell)
Me: Eh? Say what? But..... I thought.....AM said...... (lots of blabbering)
Him: Yeah yeah.... AM said conditional, but I really think that's bollocks. I've seen you, met you... and I know you can do the job backwards. Whatever problems you have with the script can only be ironed out by you practicing it. And the best way to practice is to actually DO the tour.

Bottom line, I begin the week of May 3rd!!

And so dear readers, if you've been keeping track, this means that somehow in the span of one day, I managed to land not one.... not two.... but THREE jobs! Totally crazy.... but there you have it! The long drought seems to have finally passed and the rain clouds are on the horizon. And waddya know? Every single one of those clouds seems to have a bright and beautiful silver lining!!

The Usual Suspect

2010-04-12T08:08:00.001-04:00

Over the past few weeks, I have been training for a potential job in Edinburgh. There's a lot of research involved and accordingly, I took myself to the library to get the required reading. Part of the research is on Scotland's Stone of Destiny and its role in the country's military and political past. Specifically, how it was "borrowed" back in the 50s by four students from Glasgow University.

I presented my list of books to the library assistant. She looked it over. Frowning slightly, she peered up at me through her very librarian-like spectacles. Interesting list you have here young lady. Are you planning another heist?

I didn't know it at that time, but it turns out that when planning the heist, the students had checked out an almost identical list of books from the very same library! I wonder there are most wanted lists in the Glasgow library system. If so, my card number is probably at the very top of the list. I'd better behave myself over the next few weeks, and make damn sure I return the books on time, or I might have half the Strathclyde Police force out on my doorstep!

Embracing my Inner Gleek

2010-04-10T08:18:00.000-04:00

Last season's surprise hit TV show has gotten everyone talking about the age old high school rivalry. Supposedly, if you're in Glee Club (or a version of it) that automatically makes you uncool and the bottom feeders of the high school social hierarchy. Having never attended high school in North America, I don't know just how much of this is true. If it is, then I cannot express just how sad that would be as a reflection of American society.

Why is it that kids who decide to participate in school activities are termed "geeks"? If that is the case, well then, I was (and probably still am) the very biggest geek around. Drama, music, art, science, handicrafts, dance, band, squad, guides; I was part of all these clubs back in high school. And I loved it! I knew I sucked at sports, but that was ok. I was happy to play with my classmates during P.E class, but when it came to competitions I preferred to leave it to the experts. But other than that, I signed up for anything and everything that the school offered. It was the perfect excuse for a "get out of class free" pass!

And boy did the over enthusiastic participation work to my advantage! One time I was punished by the maths teacher as I hadn't completed my homework. The punishment was to stay in at recess and get it all done. Problem was, practice for drama class was scheduled during recess and we had a play to perform at the sectionals in a mere 2 weeks time. The teacher in charge of drama got me out of the punishment. 'Course, I had to promise to have the homework done by the next morning, but hey, I'd have done that anyway. No one was stupid enough to cross the math teacher twice!

I know for sure that I was nowhere near being cool when in school. Or in even later in university. For that matter, I'm still not allowed anywhere near the cool kid's table! What I do know is that being part of every one of those clubs gave me an education far better than any classroom lecture. And I say that with no disrespect to my wonderful teachers. Being part of those clubs may have been gleek like, but they are what form some of my best high school memories.

And really, what is so wrong about wanting to participate in these activities and win accolades for the school? If that's going to keep me at the bottom of the social ladder, well that's perfectly fine by me. In any case, I'm terrified of heights!!

Above: Grade 8 class picture with the Principal (centre), Vice Principal (left) and class teacher.

Can you spot the 12 year old me?

Storm Clouds and Silver Linings

2010-04-07T07:27:00.004-04:00

When you live in Scotland, you will run into many a storm cloud. And I'm talking literally. Suffice to say, my life of late has resembled a veritable mine field of storm clouds. But, dear reader as you well know I have been striving to "Find the Awesome" and focus on the rainbows and bunnies and fluffy cotton candy and anything else that falls under the awww that's nice category.

Today, on the bus ride home from Edinburgh, I realise that sometimes, the storm clouds themselves are the silver lining.

Spring-like Thoughts on Bunny Day

2010-04-04T09:53:00.004-04:00

With the blossoming of the Spring flowers, there seems to have been a bit of change in the air; and I don't just mean the weather.

For starters, last Tuesday's meeting with the Edinburgh tour manager went really well. I have two weeks to train on mastering the script and doing the required research. On the 13th, I will have to do a test tour for the manager, and if I pass that, well... I'm in!

Its not just Springtime. Its make or break time.

Missed Call

2010-03-31T08:20:00.005-04:00

Today, she would have turned 86. There would have been a flurry of phone calls from all over the world; children and grandkiddos and random family and friends calling in to wish her happiness and love.

She loved phone calls. Love chatting with anyone really. It never ceased to amaze me just how well connected she was to the vast networks of happenings in the outside world even though she rarely went out any more. There was this little book where she painstakingly recorded births, deaths, anniversaries and other important dates. Every morning, she'd look up the date and then call around to wish anyone who was celebrating that day.

My aunt tells me that there were a high volumes of calls today. Even though she isn't around, people were still calling in. I guess they miss the phone calls just as much as I do.

When it Rains, It Bloody Well Pours!

2010-03-27T11:11:00.000-04:00

As if the high from the Paddy's day party wasn't enough, I woke up bright and early last Sunday morning in the mood for more thrills. I'd heard about a free walking tour in Edinburgh. T'was the same company as the one I had just done in Paris, and since the first one was so good, I thought I'd give this one a go. Post tour, I got chatting with the guide and he mentioned that the company was hiring guides for the summer. As luck would have it his manager was just finishing up with his own tour group near by and so I wrangled out an introduction. The manager was nice enough to tell me a lot about the company and what was available, then advised me to send in an application. I did, and he called back inviting me to an interview Tuesday next week.

Then, on Wednesday, I got an email from one of the girls I had worked with at the rugby gig. She worked with a recruitment firm in Paisley (just outside of G Town) and we'd gotten talking during the day. Again, not wanting to miss out on an opportunity, I sent off my CV to her. The email was to set up a meeting for Wednesday next week.

On Thursday, I got a call from a store near my flat where I had dropped off an application some days ago. They wanted to set up an interview for Monday.

And just when I thought it really wasn't going to get any better, yesterday, Ms. Oversized Glasses (finally) replied to my (two) email(s) and said that she'd passed on my information to one of her colleagues and gave me his name and phone number. Not wanting to waste any time, I gave him a ring and had a wee chat. He asked me to send along a CV and he'd look at it. No promises, but hey... at least it was a lead!

Looks like next week is going to be very busy. One can only hope that something good will come of it.

And if not. Well, square one and the drawing board both await!!

Lyrics for Life

2010-03-25T12:47:00.005-04:00

Its been a long past 8 months. A whole lot of downs and not a whole lot of ups to counter balance that. My normally upbeat outlook has taken the worst thumping ever. There were so many dark days. Days when I would wonder what I was waking up for in the first place. I let everyone and everything else define me, and worse, I questioned my own beliefs to such an extent that soon I wasn't able to recognise me anymore.

Of course, you dear readers knew that. You were there on my mega downwards spiral, as I ranted and raged against Beans, life, the universe and everything in it. Damn, that must have made for some really bad reading!

I think I've had enough. In fact, I know I have.

I'm sick of the negativity. If you've known me at all, you know that its just not me. I love life way too much, love laughter way too much. Heck, I love beer way too much... let's face it, beer without laughter just doesn't taste as good!

And so, I'd like to borrow from the amazing Stephen Schwartz who's magical lyrics and music have inspired me to get out of this funk and get a damn life. Enough with the misery. It's time I found a new way.

Something has changed within me
Something is not the same
I'm through with playing by the rules
Of someone else's game
Too late for second-guessing
Too late to go back to sleep
It's time to trust my instincts
Close my eyes, and leap!

It's time to try
Defying gravity
I think I'll try
Defying gravity
And you can't pull me down!

I'm through accepting limits
''cause someone says they're so
Some things I cannot change
But till I try, I'll never know!
Too long I've been afraid of
Losing love I guess I've lost
Well, if that's love
It comes at much too high a cost!

I'd sooner buy
Defying gravity
Kiss me goodbye
I'm defying gravity
And you can't pull me down

So if you care to find me
Look to the western sky!
As someone told me lately:
"Ev'ryone deserves the chance to fly!"
And if I'm flying solo
At least I'm flying free

To those who'd ground me
Take a message back from me
Tell them how I am
Defying gravity
I'm flying high
Defying gravity
And soon I'll match them in renown

And nobody in all of Oz
No Wizard that there is or was
Is ever gonna bring me down!

**Disclaimer**
There will probably have more bad days ahead; I'm sure that it will take a while before I'm back to pre sucky status. But I do promise to try not to dwell on the bad things. I do promise to at least TRY and find the awesome in everyday. And dear reader, thank YOU for being the awesome that has been there for me this entire time. I *heart* you v much!

Game, Set, Match.

2010-03-22T06:53:00.004-04:00

While I was still fence sitting about going to the Paddy's Day party, there was a call from the agency re some potential work on Saturday.

Accordingly, on went the little back skirt and white top and black jacket. On went the makeup - eye coloury bits and eyelasher stuff and a dab of colour on the lips that was promptly licked off. On went the accursed pantyhose and finally the heels that would guarantee sore and achy feet before the hour was up. But hey, it was 5 hours of paid work and when they said jump, I asked, how high?

For most of the first half of the reception, the guests were more interested in stealing glances at the flat screen TVs that were showing the Scotland v. Ireland rugby game and really, so was I. As the match went on, I got more and more excited. It wasn't so much that Scotland playing some really smart ball and winning, but more that Ireland was getting the stuffing kicked out of them and all hopes of them winning the Grand Slam were being well and truly dashed. When the final score read 20-23 in favour of the Scots, I knew there was no way I was NOT going to the party and miss seeing Beans wallow in the wake of defeat.

So I went. There was a lot of rugby talk, mostly instigated by myself and yes, I had a GREAT time throughout the evening!

Finding the Awesome

2010-03-19T09:15:00.005-04:00

Perhaps it is because I am what is possibly the very end of my proverbial tether that I am glancing around and trying to find the awesome (as my friend Trippy would say) in the small and the mundane and the seemingly unremarkable.

Like the fact that we had (almost) 3 weeks of straight sunshine here in G Town. And that Rain Man finally figured out what was making our shower head go *splutter splutter* and then made it go *shoowsh shoowsh* again. And that although my hair has grown right out of the December cut, it still manages to fall well and rest in (non product induced) bouncy glory around my neck. Or it could be the new "find-a-job" method I have adopted which is to take long walk around the city peering into shop windows looking for help wanted signs. I usually find about one or two per walk, which is not bad odds really; and hey, its a two for one deal as I'm getting a bit of exercise in as well!

And it could be that my local organic grocery store is having a sale on potted plants and I was able to pick up this little flowering pot (name unknown). If you do know what its called, do tell! Also from the organic store, a little patch of shamrock. That combined with a little milk pot from the charity shop for 40p, the entire ensemble made a lovely little Paddy's Day prezzie for Rain Man. OK, so I'll be the one actually looking after the plant, but t'was a nice gesture, no?

Best of all though when one of my rambles the other day, I spied a clump of crocus's peeping through the grass. Here's hoping that Winter has passed and that warm days are ahead.

Voodoo Cleansing

2010-03-16T00:59:00.005-04:00

There is some funky magic happening right now. My past lives are being investigated. Somewhere in some previous existence I must have done something very very naughty. There must have been something so horrible that I have done either in this, or another life that I am paying paying paying dearly for right now.

Like the fact that exactly a month ago, Boss Man called to assure me that although he had dissolved the company it would only be a matter of a week before he had the new office up and running and I would be back at work.

A week passed, and then another. I went to Paris and returned. In between, I made a fair few calls to Boss Man, sent along a few text messages and emails as well. I finally got a text message back saying that the new office would be up and running by the end of week. When I hadn't heard back by Thursday afternoon, I sent along another text message and email asking if we could meet so that I could collect February's pay.

Since then, its been regular phone calls, text messages and emails to him asking the same question - When am I to be paid? No reply.

By my calculations, he owes me around £700 for a combination of work hours and expenses. That works out to 2 months rent... and then some. Groceries. Real food for a change. Don't get me wrong, the yogurt and raisins diet is making me very regular, but I'm kind of craving actual meals again.

And then there's all those pesky bills from the Paris trip. Which was only booked in the first place as I figured that I would be working for a few weeks and I'd be able to afford it all right.

Right now, I'm just hoping that the witch doctor soon runs out of pins to poke into the Pixy doll and that the fires of the strange magic are extinguished soon. Very soon!

Penguins at the Rugby Game

2010-03-14T07:54:00.000-04:00

My friend the Energizer Bunny knew that I was back to job hunting since my part time work had fizzled out some weeks ago. Accordingly, she had passed on my details to a friend of her who ran an agency here in G Town. Last week, unexpected, I got a call from the agency asking if I was free for a one day assignment on Saturday. It was for hostessing duties at Murrayfield, the rugby stadium in Edinburgh.

Eager to earn a few handy pennies, I confirmed attendance right away. It wasn't until I had put down the phone that I realised that the game in question was the England v Scotland match, possibly one of the biggest games in all of the 6 Nations Rugby Tournament. Tickets for this game had been sold out about 5 minutes after they went on sale last summer. And I was actually going to be there. AND get paid in the process! How cool was THAT?

The agency was busing the G Town based girls over and as I made my way across the parking lot of the meeting point, I couldn't help giggle. There were about 15 girls all walking towards the bus all dressed in black suits, white tops and black heeled shoes. Together, we looked like attendees at a penguin convention!

On the way over to Edinburgh, I chatted with some of the other girls trying to get an idea of what exactly we were going to be doing during the day. I also made sure that I had done ok with my makeup application as per the job requirements. It had taken me 3 tries and about 4 stabs in the eye but I had finally managed to follow the carefully written make up application instructions my friend gave me. The other girls assured me I looked just fine.

At the stadium, I was assigned to a suite of 350 guests with two other hostesses. It wasn't particularly hard work, but as with all VIPs, there were some cranky ones and we were kept busy trying to appease those few squeaky wheels. Still, the day was set up so that we had to look after the guests before the game during the luncheon and then after. During the actual game, we were free to take our break.

Most of the other girls weren't interested in the match; half of them didn't even know who was playing! Not me! There was no way I could otherwise afford to be at such an event. I wasn't going to let this opportunity slip by. Grabbing a hold of the only other hostess who was interested, the two of us made our way around the stadium until we found a chink in the armour - otherwise known as the air tight stadium security - and weaseled our way into a corner of the stadium where we were able to watch almost all of the match without (much) interruption. Handy things, those little staff passes!

And what an exciting game it was! A tight scoring game with both teams scoring tries one after the other. The final result was a draw, 15 all. Not the win that Scotland wanted, but then again, not the loss that England was so determined to deliver at the same time!

Finally, a good 13 hours after we first met up at the parking lot, a troop of tired penguins shuffled off to waiting cars, most of them holding on to their high heels. It had been a fun day, but now, all we cared about was getting home and soaking our aching and blistered feet.

It was time to take off the super-hostess garb and return to being mere mortal women again.

Dear God, Why Me?

2010-03-11T04:47:00.003-05:00

Opened up my email this morning hoping, as always for word from one of the ten thousand applications I have sent out into the interwebulator world.

Instead, I see FB invite to a Paddy's Day party hosted by Beans. And who's at the top of the invite list? Ms. Skinny-Pants-Over sized-Frames. Ok, so the list is alphabetised, so it makes sense that she's right at the top, but still.

Dammit. I rocked ass (literally) at his birthday, but that was without having to face the upgraded version. Again, not going is not an option since everyone knows that I have no social life. Besides, every single other person that I know will also be at that party.

Why... why.... WHY me??

On the other hand, it might be the perfect opportunity to corner her and make her get me an interview with one of the recruiters in her company. That would possibly cement my status as the crazy, needy ex, but hey.. again.. its not like I'm climbing the social ladder, so nothing to loose.

So that's all right then. As long as I have a plan.

*groan*

It Keeps Getting Better

2010-03-10T05:27:00.002-05:00

The Chief Exec of the charity called me yesterday, full of excitement. He'd just got some of the volunteer information forms back and noticed that one of the new volunteers worked with a large recruitment firm. He said he'll send over her information, and perhaps I could give her a call re work opportunities.

Thrilled, I jiggled around impatiently waiting for his email to come in. When it finally popped up on my browser, I double and triple clicked it eager for it to open. I scanned the message for the name of the gift angel that would hopefully pry open the door into that uber exclusive club - employment.

And then, all my excitement went flat and my hopes, that a second ago had been soaring now lay scattered on the floor all around me.

The volunteer who worked in the recruitment agency was Beans' new squeeze.

After starring at the email for what was possibly an hour, I decided that I had already sunk so low, that emailing her really wouldn't matter. So I did. I sent her a nice little note indicating that I was interested in some of the positions that her company had posted on the website, and would she be able to direct me to the best person to chat with about the same.

Its been almost 24 hours, and no reply.

I can't believe I actually got my hopes up. What's that phrase about shame on me for fooling me twice?