We're about to move house again. This time from Chapel en le Frith to Preston. In the past eight years we have lived in Sale in south Manchester, Tottenham in north London, Enfield in Middlesex, two different places in Chester, Colchester, Chelmsford and Chapel en le Frith. It's got to the point now where I don't even think about it. We move in three weeks and I've not started packing yet.
I feel like I have learnt about very different things in each place. I learnt about Music in Manchester, art in Chester, politics in London, friends in Derbyshire, careers in Essex and I suspect that Preston will be about family.
Buckley & I don't share the same tastes in many things - and that includes where we live. I could happily settle in London and he loves Derbyshire. I find Derbyshire dull and nosey and he thinks London is dirty, impersonal and cold.
We've not found a happy medium yet so instead we go to work in different directions and do our own thing.
I would like to live by the sea. Fleetwood would be a lovely place to have a weekend flat. I would also love to live in another country for a couple of years - perhaps Spain or Holland - maybe France or New York. It's highly unlikely though.
All the moving around has left us with a scattering of friends across the country and it's very easy to distinguish the ones you care about and the ones that care about you just by who you keep in touch with. Strangely one of my oldest friends lives in Preston and I'm looking forward to getting to know her again.
Despite being used to moving I still find it quite unsettling. Every time you have to start again - finding a job, making friends, making a home and feeling comfortable again. The only constant is Chris. Everything else changes.
Saturday, 26 July 2008
Sunday, 20 July 2008
Shopping
When did shopping become such a chore? Surely going out to choose a new sofa or buy a lamp should be fun? Why did that woman call me a jumped up shop boy before hanging up on me and how much do I enjoy throwing middle aged women out of my shop for being rude?
Shopping has become a battle.
I blame the Americans. They have perpetuated the myth that good customer service is giving the customer whatever they demand - without limitation - and because of this a happy compromise is very difficult to agree on. Granted, if the planters you buy for your garden go rusty and mark your patio it's not great but to demand - and expect - a full refund, payment for the cleaning products, payment for a gardener to replant new pots and compensation for distress is, in my opinion, a little over the top.
A friend of mine was once required to turn the hands of a clock to various positions so that the customer could decide whether he liked the aesthetics of said clock at different times of the day.
I myself had to deal with a tantrum from a woman when I couldn't tell her whether the dinner candles she had asked me about dripped or flowed as the wax was melting.
These days I won't tolerate that kind of behaviour. The rude and demanding get nowhere and as the boss I can get away with it. They still annoy me but I won't pander to it now.
Thus far I have thrown two people out of the shop, been smug to numerous and instructed three not to be so rude to me. Rudeness should not be accepted.
Shopping has become a battle.
I blame the Americans. They have perpetuated the myth that good customer service is giving the customer whatever they demand - without limitation - and because of this a happy compromise is very difficult to agree on. Granted, if the planters you buy for your garden go rusty and mark your patio it's not great but to demand - and expect - a full refund, payment for the cleaning products, payment for a gardener to replant new pots and compensation for distress is, in my opinion, a little over the top.
A friend of mine was once required to turn the hands of a clock to various positions so that the customer could decide whether he liked the aesthetics of said clock at different times of the day.
I myself had to deal with a tantrum from a woman when I couldn't tell her whether the dinner candles she had asked me about dripped or flowed as the wax was melting.
These days I won't tolerate that kind of behaviour. The rude and demanding get nowhere and as the boss I can get away with it. They still annoy me but I won't pander to it now.
Thus far I have thrown two people out of the shop, been smug to numerous and instructed three not to be so rude to me. Rudeness should not be accepted.
Thursday, 17 July 2008
The Cats
I have been trying for some time now to teach Gilbert & Moochie both Spanish and French. The lessons began when Whiskers started printing the flavours of their cat food pouches in numerous languages on the back of the packet. A bit of poulet here, a sachet of lapin there and the odd morsel of canard or ton every now and again. Quite straight forward stuff really.
We rapidly progressed to more tricky conversational French but the Spanish was somewhat restricted. I decided that they (especially Moochie) needed some more vocabulary work and thought that the best way to work through this and to improve their all round skills was to invest in small desks so that they had a dedicated work space.
It was only when I tried to get them to write a short composition that I realised there was a problem. The cat's are really bad at writing - due to the whole thumb thing. I had to call the whole thing off and ebay the desks.
We're now back to chatting over dinner and I think everyone feels much better about it generally. Less pressure all round.
This morning Gilbert said "Le petit déjeuner était merci délicieux vous. Pouvons-nous avoir la souris la prochaine fois ?"
I replied "Vous êtes un chat ingrat. J'enlèverai vos cheveux."
We rapidly progressed to more tricky conversational French but the Spanish was somewhat restricted. I decided that they (especially Moochie) needed some more vocabulary work and thought that the best way to work through this and to improve their all round skills was to invest in small desks so that they had a dedicated work space.
It was only when I tried to get them to write a short composition that I realised there was a problem. The cat's are really bad at writing - due to the whole thumb thing. I had to call the whole thing off and ebay the desks.
We're now back to chatting over dinner and I think everyone feels much better about it generally. Less pressure all round.
This morning Gilbert said "Le petit déjeuner était merci délicieux vous. Pouvons-nous avoir la souris la prochaine fois ?"
I replied "Vous êtes un chat ingrat. J'enlèverai vos cheveux."
Sunday, 13 July 2008
Police
Our security guard was assaulted today. Two thieves were in the building and he chased one of them after he walked out with two products under his coat.
When the guard couldn't lock him in the car park he decided to grab him instead and in return received a smack in the face.
The thieves left with nothing.
The police were called at 1.30 and still hadn't arrived at 5 when we left.
The crack house across the road seems to be going strong these days despite the recent raid. The guests of the establishment have recently become more inventive. Instead of pretending to be shopping they now ask for application forms and question if we're recruiting. We also have one delightful woman who sits in a wheel chair and is pushed about by another crackee whilst she tries to swipe the expensive stuff.
I don't think I want to be there any more. You shouldn't be frightened for your safety when you go to work.
When the guard couldn't lock him in the car park he decided to grab him instead and in return received a smack in the face.
The thieves left with nothing.
The police were called at 1.30 and still hadn't arrived at 5 when we left.
The crack house across the road seems to be going strong these days despite the recent raid. The guests of the establishment have recently become more inventive. Instead of pretending to be shopping they now ask for application forms and question if we're recruiting. We also have one delightful woman who sits in a wheel chair and is pushed about by another crackee whilst she tries to swipe the expensive stuff.
I don't think I want to be there any more. You shouldn't be frightened for your safety when you go to work.
Thursday, 10 July 2008
The cross eyed and the toothless
The elderly woman sitting across from me on the 371 was drinking vodka from a soda water bottle. I didn't realise it was me she was addressing because her eyes looked in different directions but once she had my attention it was interupted by a boy falling off his seat and on to the floor whilst his toothless mother cackled with glee.
Back on his seat the alcoholic shared sweets amongst the passengers. The mong just grinned at them all.
Back on his seat the alcoholic shared sweets amongst the passengers. The mong just grinned at them all.
Wednesday, 9 July 2008
The Living Dead
The living dead are three individuals comprising an elderly couple and a giant man in a pink, teenage girl's belt.
The living dead ride the number eleven bus.
The living dead smell.
Usually they travel together but last Thursday only the old man boarded the bus. Mouth open, unshaven, slowly sliding towards the front seats. I was initially concerned that he had eaten the other two (I've seen them since though - thank God)
I learned a long time ago to sit towards the rear of the bus on Thursday and Friday morning and now enjoy watching those people that sit at the front when the living dead arrive. It begins with an index finger under the nose then quickly progresses to the turning of the head and within a minute or two you can see a physical repulsion to their foetid reek. Some people actually move seats.
It's a nasty business indeed...
The living dead ride the number eleven bus.
The living dead smell.
Usually they travel together but last Thursday only the old man boarded the bus. Mouth open, unshaven, slowly sliding towards the front seats. I was initially concerned that he had eaten the other two (I've seen them since though - thank God)
I learned a long time ago to sit towards the rear of the bus on Thursday and Friday morning and now enjoy watching those people that sit at the front when the living dead arrive. It begins with an index finger under the nose then quickly progresses to the turning of the head and within a minute or two you can see a physical repulsion to their foetid reek. Some people actually move seats.
It's a nasty business indeed...
Sunday, 6 July 2008
Blackpool
Blackpool never fails to make me cringe.
Buckley said "You're never going to change it so just get drunk and go with it."
Needless to say I did get drunk but not in order to "go with it" but rather to block it out. I would have got more drunk but for the fact that all the gay bars in Blackpool charge you to get in.
We went into Blackpool during the day and during the half hour that I waded through the swirling rubbish on and around Victoria Street I was witness to a bloke in a mankini - knob & balls on show - a middle aged woman with a SEX bracelet being tongued by her terrier on a bench and about fifteen blokes in grass skirts and ladies' bras. It was a beautiful experience. I had to seek refuge in Waterstones.
I was actually looking for the 3 Mobile store to do a bit of research for a job interview but couldn't find it. I looked everywhere for it. I called directory enquiries and they gave me the address and phone number - it wasn't at the supplied address and the phone number was dead. I asked people in the street - nobody knew. By the time I gave up I had already decided that I didn't want to work in Blackpool anyway.
We escaped back to Poulton for drinks and dinner with my brothers before daring our return to Blackpool to see the other side of the town.
We drank at Taboo first for which we paid one pound each for the priveledge. The DJ was a camp tranny who hasn't changed her act since the eighties. The venue was run down and dirty. The 'terrace' where we sat whilst I smoked, was full of loud hen parties, there was no character, no music, no lighting in fact nothing to make you want to sit out there. We left after one drink.
Across the road at Pepes it was the same entrance fee situation so we declined. The doorman told us that it was to keep straight people out. At Trades bar we were told that you must become a member which again you must pay for. When we commented that it was really difficult to go for a drink in Blackpool the doorman there claimed it was because the council didn't want gay bars in Blackpool and that the licensing laws required entry fees. I suspect it's just a money making trick.
We eventually decided that if we were going to go somewhere for an hour before the club it might as well be the busiest and closest of all the bars so we ventured into The Flying Handbag... This place had a two pound door charge for some reason and whilst it was an improvement on Taboo it was still trashy. A bad drag queen played camp music and the place felt unfinished.
I'd have hoped that after all these years Blackpool would have moved on a little or if not, at least in such a captive market where one person owns most of the bars, I'd have expected some money being put back into it. There must be a market for something a little more sophisticated in Blackpool.
We finished at Flamingo's night club which was a bit rough - there were lots of dealers in there very early in the evening and they seemed to take over the toilets and be quite intimidating. The music was quite full on from the beginning and didn't seem to do very much. Having said that we did dance for about an hour before calling it a day and heading back to Poulton.
I'm sure that in a couple of years we'll have forgotten how bad Blackpool really is and do it again but until then I'll steer clear - it makes me feel dirty.
Buckley said "You're never going to change it so just get drunk and go with it."
Needless to say I did get drunk but not in order to "go with it" but rather to block it out. I would have got more drunk but for the fact that all the gay bars in Blackpool charge you to get in.
We went into Blackpool during the day and during the half hour that I waded through the swirling rubbish on and around Victoria Street I was witness to a bloke in a mankini - knob & balls on show - a middle aged woman with a SEX bracelet being tongued by her terrier on a bench and about fifteen blokes in grass skirts and ladies' bras. It was a beautiful experience. I had to seek refuge in Waterstones.
I was actually looking for the 3 Mobile store to do a bit of research for a job interview but couldn't find it. I looked everywhere for it. I called directory enquiries and they gave me the address and phone number - it wasn't at the supplied address and the phone number was dead. I asked people in the street - nobody knew. By the time I gave up I had already decided that I didn't want to work in Blackpool anyway.
We escaped back to Poulton for drinks and dinner with my brothers before daring our return to Blackpool to see the other side of the town.
We drank at Taboo first for which we paid one pound each for the priveledge. The DJ was a camp tranny who hasn't changed her act since the eighties. The venue was run down and dirty. The 'terrace' where we sat whilst I smoked, was full of loud hen parties, there was no character, no music, no lighting in fact nothing to make you want to sit out there. We left after one drink.
Across the road at Pepes it was the same entrance fee situation so we declined. The doorman told us that it was to keep straight people out. At Trades bar we were told that you must become a member which again you must pay for. When we commented that it was really difficult to go for a drink in Blackpool the doorman there claimed it was because the council didn't want gay bars in Blackpool and that the licensing laws required entry fees. I suspect it's just a money making trick.
We eventually decided that if we were going to go somewhere for an hour before the club it might as well be the busiest and closest of all the bars so we ventured into The Flying Handbag... This place had a two pound door charge for some reason and whilst it was an improvement on Taboo it was still trashy. A bad drag queen played camp music and the place felt unfinished.
I'd have hoped that after all these years Blackpool would have moved on a little or if not, at least in such a captive market where one person owns most of the bars, I'd have expected some money being put back into it. There must be a market for something a little more sophisticated in Blackpool.
We finished at Flamingo's night club which was a bit rough - there were lots of dealers in there very early in the evening and they seemed to take over the toilets and be quite intimidating. The music was quite full on from the beginning and didn't seem to do very much. Having said that we did dance for about an hour before calling it a day and heading back to Poulton.
I'm sure that in a couple of years we'll have forgotten how bad Blackpool really is and do it again but until then I'll steer clear - it makes me feel dirty.
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