The Scourge of the Seaside

...or are they?

I'm not the biggest fan of seagulls (or herring gulls as they should really be called). However, I had to laugh when I read this article. Mainly because it is the funniest I have ever read on BBC Sussex (yes, really), and  because it has taken up a prominent spot on the Politics page, but also because, love them or hate them, the major explosion of the seagull population and the their growing presence inland is our fault.

Seagulls like to scavenge. We've made that rather easy. Takeaways in particular have numerous bulging bin bags outside that it could be ripped open with a fingernail, let alone the sharp beak of a hungry gull. They will also go for bin bags left out over night for the rubbish collection the following morning, just as foxes and cats do. Rats also like to try their luck at such exciting mounds of rotting food, especially when they have been left out too long. The first issue then is to consider putting rubbish in a sealed bin that the birds, or any other animal, can't get to.

The suggestions in the article, from 'esteemed' MPs no less, are ridiculous. Contraception for seagulls? Seriously?! I also cannot condone stealing their eggs and replacing them with fakes, or letting off fireworks at landfill sites (fireworks have never kept them out of Sussex, and we're the county who should know!)

Now, I've seen seagulls behave in the most menacing of ways. Once on a family holiday in Dorset I saw a small boy walking along Lyme Regis seafront being harassed by a gull for a bag of chips. The poor boy was quite upset by the whole incident and I did feel sorry for him. Until that point in our holiday we had jealously noted how the gulls in Dorset seemed to be a lot more placid than the ones in Sussex.

Indeed, Sussex has witnessed a few particular nasty incidents. One was during the school holidays several years ago when children were feeding ducklings at a park. Some gulls spotted the bread and swooped down to see what they could scrounge. However, they spotted the ducklings and decided they were tastier. Obviously, again, this was somewhat distressing for the children.

Another incident happened to the mother of one of my dad's old work colleagues, who had seagulls nesting on her roof. They become particularly ferocious when they are protecting their young. When she left the house one morning one of the parents flew down and attacked her, ramming it's beak into her head. As she was quite frail she fell to the ground with shock, and had quite a nasty bruise. It was obviously a very unpleasant and scary experience for her.

I also have friends who have had their sandwiches stolen out of their very hands by seagulls, which I promise I didn't find funny...

The first thing to note is that seagulls are not the only birds who will eat other smaller birds that are vulnerable. Crows have also been known to do the same, and yet they have a lot less hate than gulls, even though they can be just as irritating. Further to that, as much as we joke about, seagulls are not really "evil", and therefore don't eat ducklings with the intent of upsetting small children.

As for the nesting on roofs, it is possible to put up protective netting to prevent this from happening. I think elderly people in particular should receive some kind of help from their local authority to be able to do this, although I'm not sure if that's currently the case.

Pigeons, also, will gather around anyone eating a sandwich in the hope of catching a crumb or several. In fact, in Brighton's shopping centre, Churchill Square, the pigeons are more annoying than the seagulls. Only Trafalgar Square in London has a bigger problem with these 'rats with wings.'

The other hilarious statement in the article is that seagulls are driving down property prices in some areas. I seriously doubt that. I think the economy has more to do with that, but I digress... Indeed, Brighton's property prices are on a par with London's i.e. they are eye-wateringly expensive.

In any case, Brighton, and indeed any seaside town, would be a rather strange place without the presence of seagulls. I would feel bereft if I did not hear that familiar squawking on a trip to the seaside.

We live slightly inland but on a river, with an old landfill site and a dump both nearby. The seagulls visit here regularly. They can be immensely irritating. In my old job, at about 3:30pm, it must have been one of their meal times because a massive group of them would swirl around the office making an unbelievable racket. At this point I would always be attempting to concentrate on something complicated, like geo-referencing an archaeological site, or trying to organise an impossible meeting, so the noise would drive me crazy!

Even though I feel something close to vitriol towards seagulls, deep down I have to admit that they have mostly brought me joy. What? Yes, really. Really? Yes, I'm afraid so. I don't want it to be true, but it is!

It's simple things, such as amusing memories like this one: One morning on honeymoon we had breakfast in Bath, sitting outside by the River Avon. I'm a rather slow eater, and a seagull sat on a fence post nearby, watching me eat. You could tell it was trying to choose what it would eat first. The hash brown maybe, but then those mushrooms did look acceptable, and if there's any of that sausage left... As I took the last bite the seagull looked at me with quiet rage. It then turned its head away with disgust, took a bow, and flew away to fight a pigeon over a measly morsel of mouldy bread. This may not be that entertaining story to many people, but to my husband and I it is one of many happy memories that makes us laugh from our honeymoon.

At our flat we opened the curtains every morning to see the sun rising over the town's rooftops. A number of seagulls would be dotted at various vantage points - aerials, street lamps - looking out over town with authority. I hate to say this, I really do, but they're actually quite beautiful, and I have come to accept that they are an essential part of the southern Sussex towns.

I don't exactly agree with their protected status in this country, although if they didn't have it I'm sure a great many people would attack them with glee, but I don't think that culling them is the answer. I really believe we have to look to ourselves first to provide solutions. Clearing up our rubbish is a good start. The added bonus of that is cleaner streets and less rats. That can't be a bad thing.

Also, guarding your lunch is never a bad idea either. My husband works near the sea and his lab's tea room faces out onto a flat roof where one or two seagulls like to hang out, picking on pigeons etc. One summer's day the window was left wide open. One of my husband's colleagues was happily eating a sausage roll when he was called over to check on something. At that moment, seizing his chance, one of the seagulls dashed inside, grabbed the sausage roll and flew off. Not only did this story have us in fits of giggles, but it was also a good reminder never to leave your food unattended!

As for getting the government involved with the 'Seagull Crisis' (you know that's what it will be called, just you wait!) I have to agree with one of the comments (no.32) left on the article, that the MPs should be focusing on "human anti-social behaviour rather than seagulls." Hear hear! Now, get back to work Parliament!

Yeah!

Photos courtesy of Google Images

For the Love of Owls

Owl at London Zoo, March 2009

Owls seem to be very fashionable at the moment. Mostly in unnaturally bright colours in the form of cushions and cute accessories. As I know very little about fashion trends, does anyone know why owls are currently so popular?

It's strange because both my husband and I have found ourselves inadvertently "fashionable" as a result of this. This never happens, never! We both love owls you see. We seem to have adopted this love in our childhoods from our grandmothers' love of owls and all the owl themed items they had dotted round their houses. I inherited a couple such items from my grandma. One is a cloth magazine rack with a very handsome owl printed on the side. The other is a little pendant of a wooden carved owl, that I recently began wearing again just before the present trend hit the high streets.

When my husband and I moved into a house share nearly five years ago, I noticed that he had a soft, and very very loved, small stuffed owl sitting on his desk. I had exactly the same toy owl. I sneakily placed mine beside his to see if he noticed, which he did. From that day on Ol and Fluff were inseparable. In hindsight (this was before we were together) perhaps I should have realised that a) matching stuffed owls was a sign we were made for each other, and b) putting mine together with his probably gave out all kinds of messages I hadn't intended to give, because it was several months after this incident that I actually realised my feelings for him.

Anywhoo - towhit - towhoo - it seems that our love of owls is now shared by many others. Just this weekend I tried on an incredibly cool owl print dress in one of my favourite shops - alas! it was too small. A friend of mine has very funky owl print shoes, and also one of those gorgeous owl cushions sitting on her sofa.

We, at the moment, have Ol and Fluff watching over the study together with pride, the owl magazine rack in the living room, and a large newspaper cut-out of Hedwig on our fridge door. So, we're not exactly leading in the trendy home accessory stakes, but we are bemused by owl-themed items springing up everywhere. Even our favourite kitchen shop is now selling a whole range of owl print crockery. What is going on!?

My parents live in a peaceful village. A main road runs through it and during the day the distant hum of traffic is ever present, but at night all is quiet but for the gentle hooting of owls out hunting. I used to love falling asleep to that sound. I've always admired owls in nature. In Art at school, which I usually wasn't very good at, we had to make bird collages and an owl seemed the obvious choice for me. I was quietly beaming with pride when I'd completed my preliminary drawing and my teacher declared, "Ooh, he looks very fierce. I wouldn't want to encounter him in the dark of night."

But natural representations of owls aside, I've found myself falling for them in their cute and cartoon like form as well, which is where the current fashion seems to lie. I want one of those owl cushions, and yes that owl print dress, and hey, why not throw in the owl crockery too? But that would be ridiculous, because we don't need another cushion, I don't need another dress, and our current crockery is just fine as it is.

Other animals given high esteem in this household are bears (especially of the polar variety), penguins, pigs (especially of the wild boar variety), and alpacas. It might be a bit too much to have themed everything for each of these too. For now our penguin bookstands, pig trivet, and various stuffed animals are all fine just as they are. Little touches are what works for us, so we will need to ignore this current owl trend as best we can (although I won't complain if I do get a cute owl accessory of some kind in my stocking this year!)

I will leave you with a few images of my favourite owls:

Archimedes, the "highly educated owl", from Sword in the Stone

Whilst not my favourite Winnie the Pooh character Owl is still pretty cool

Plop (the little one) from The Owl Who Was Afraid of the Dark, one of my favourite books when I was little.

Photo my own. Pictures courtesy of Google Images.

Commuting Characters

I have just returned to the joyful world of commuting with my new office job. I have to catch the bus, which I haven't had to do since sixth-form. It's ok actually, it takes quite a pleasant route, and I even get to see alpacas on a farm on the way, so I'm happy :)

The bus seems to be lacking, however, in the somewhat distinctive characters I used to encounter daily on the train to London when I had to commute for my first job. Both my husband and I used to work in the Big Smoke and would travel up together. This started before we became a couple and is partly responsible for my falling in love with him, even though I didn't know it at the time. Anyway, there were a bunch of interesting characters we saw daily and as good friends often do we developed a wide range of nicknames for these people.

Before I explain a bit about each of these characters, I must make you aware that there is nothing original or clever about the nicknames. They are simple and effectively describe the characters without being imaginative in  any way at all.

So, ladies and gentleman, we shall start with the lady we saw every day on our way to the station:

Steam Roller Woman - she would march past us, eyes straight ahead, arms swinging side to side, ready to flatten down anyone who stood in her path. She was a force to be reckoned with, scarier than those cyclists who sped up behind us without the decency to alert us of the presence by ringing their bell. She huffed and puffed like a steam roller too.

Having successfully made it to the station without being squished by Steam Roller Woman or any iniquitous cyclists, we would encounter more characters:

Weird Kid - there was nothing weird really about this boy, just that he was a school kid who looked very out of place with all the suits and briefcases. Our train was a bit early for the school run, so he obviously had to travel quite a way. He was also scared of us. We would smile at him as he looked shy, in the hope of reassuring him that not all commuters were miserable meanies, but I think we just freaked the poor boy out and if we came near him he would run to the next carriage along and bury his face in the sports pages of The Metro.

The Slacker - this guy, without fail, would always miss the train. The doors close 30 seconds before the train leaves, goodness knows why. As you heard the familiar bleep signalling that the doors were locking you would see The Slacker appear on Platform 1, unshaven, tousled hair, still half asleep... He would look with dismay at the train and then run up the stairs. Moments later you saw him appear on Platform 2, look again at the train with dismay, and then he would watch as it pulled out, achingly slowly in the direction of the city. The first couple of times I felt sorry for him - it's about another half an hour until the next train up that way, so who knew how late he would be for his job, whatever it was? But after a while I could not believe how this guy still didn't know what time the train left. He would always look so shocked that he was missing it yet again. But it left at the same time every day, WITHOUT FAIL. *sigh*

Mr Snob - Mr Snob would sit with a group of fellow small town elites and talk in a rather loud and extremely plummy voice about all the rights and wrongs of the world. Sometimes he sounded well-educated and informed, and indeed quite interesting. Other times he was very much the 'balding Tory, Home Counties, upper-middle-class twit' Bridget Jones describes in The Edge of Reason (although being from our neck of the woods he was probably Labour), and one wished one could block his BBC English out. For some reason he took deep offence to the term Human Resources. "What on earth does that mean? It is and always will be Personnel. I utterly refuse to call them anything but Personnel, and always correct anyone that has the audacity to call them Human Resources." That is (as far as I remember it) a verbatim quote. He also disappointed me that we never heard him say things like "By gum!" and "Cheerio, old chap!" He had that kind of voice, he should have used it with greater effect...

Starey Woman - she always, always looked at my husband for the majority of the train journey if we sat near her. Before we were together I found this very amusing, but eventually it became highly irritating. We did wonder if she had glass eyes and she couldn't help it. But no, she did blink and indeed occasionally looked elsewhere. One day my husband stared her out, and won, haha!

Bomb Bag Couple - one day we got on the train, and found a bag left under our seat. We scratched our heads and pondered out loud (and very loudly at that) whose bag it could be. A couple sat across from us, engrossed in His & Hers politics books or something equally random, and they did not bat an eyelid. Neither did the man sitting opposite them. So, we did the right thing. My husband disappeared down the train to find the guard. It wasn't so much that we thought there was a bomb in the bag, it was more that perhaps someone who had alighted at our station had left it behind accidentally. My husband returned with two guards, one on the radio, the other grabbing the bag and unzipping it. Suddenly the couple put down their books and the man yelled, "Hey! That's my bag!" They glared at us angrily, and he swiped it out of the guard's hands. We apologised and pointed out that it was left unattended.
There are specific announcements that happen at trains stations in this country every 30 seconds or so, "Please do not leave baggage unattended anywhere on the station platform or on the train. It will be removed and maybe even destroyed." And, "If you suspect it report it." (As an aside here, once at Clapham Junction the announcer said, "If you have reason to suspect anything suspicious..." I seemed to be the only person on the platform at that time who laughed out loud, oh dear I am that sad.) Anyway, we were slightly embarassed by this incident, but we hoped they'd learnt their lesson. Incidentally, whenever we sat near them in future, their bags were always under their feet or in the luggage racks where they sat, rather than under an empty seat across the way. Nevertheless we would from then on know them as Bomb Bag Couple.

The Trolley of Extortion - special mention must go to the 'buffet cart' that is wheeled through the train, serving light refreshments i.e. excessively over-priced cardboard tasting tea & coffee, grey sandwiches, and gold plated Kit Kats. Our favourite operator of the Trolley of Extortion was Mr Efficiency. On the way home he would run through the train, the trolley travelling at about 60mph, so that he had covered the whole length before Clapham Junction, which is about five minutes away from London Victoria. He would then spend the rest of the journey standing near the driver end, not doing anything. We don't know if he ever sold anything, or if he simply scattered confectionary and mini bottles of beer at commuters with the hope of having the exact amount of change thrown back it him, landing conveniently in the small rattly till. We will never know, for he just moved too fast to be able to really see anything other than a blur.

The journeys home were generally less entertaining after Mr Efficiency had sped through. There was Guardian Man who spent the whole journey elbowing other passengers as he leafed through his daily copy of, you guessed it, The Guardian newspaper. And Fruit & Nut Man who daily indulged in a Cadbury's Fruit & Nut bar, awkwardly attempting not to shower others with bits of peanut and raisin. Indeed, he would attempt to eat, whilst trying to look like he wasn't eating at all. I think this meant he got more weird looks than if he'd just brazenly torn the wrapper off and crunched and swallowed the bar as loudly as possible.

We also made a couple of friends, who we didn't need to christen with nicknames because we learnt their real names. One was a woman who would talk for the entire journey about her children and the grievance she was pursuing against a bully at work. The other would sit with us, listen politely, make the odd comment, and then fall into a deep slumber whence he would snore like Darth Vader breathes. These two individuals would irritate the rest of the carriage. You could just tell. The volume on MP3 players would increase. People would scrunch their eyes tighter in their battle to doze. You could tell that those reading books were having to re-read the same sentence at least 15 times because they couldn't concentrate. As a group we received a lot of glares, smirks, raised eyebrows, and sometimes a nod of agreement (although those people would quickly look out of the window if you caught their eye).

Yes, commuting by train to London was definitely an experience all right. Lots of stories to tell. I don't miss it in the sense that it wears you out, and there are too many occasions where you don't get a seat or the trains are delayed for some reason or another. But yes, I do miss the different characters we met. And I am waiting for interesting ones to develop on the bus. There must be some, right?

The Winter Blues Are Here

Apathy. Fatigue. Sluggishness. Lack of motivation. Extreme melancholy. Yep, the 'winter blues' are here. They have creeped in silently, as they always do. Even though as summer turns to autumn I know this depression is on its way, it always hits me by surprise. When my sadness begins, I always try to figure out what is bothering me so much before I finally accept that the lack of sunshine is taking its annual toll.

Frozen flooded meadow near my auntie's in Oxfordshire last year  - sometimes I feel like this

I suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder or SAD. Never has an acronym been more true as its own word. I am very aware that I am not alone in this, and I do not suffer from it as badly as some people do, I know.

Nevertheless, it casts its shadow over the days between October and March. Getting out of bed is a daily battle. I've never been a morning person anyway, but it's much harder in the winter. The darkness of the mornings doesn't help, nor does the cold. A lot of people feel like that I'm sure. The problem is that the depression lingers through the day. Most normal tasks feel much harder, and the longing for bed is constantly there.

I first discovered I had suffered from SAD when I was at university. It was completely self-diagnosed, and my parents didn't believe that I could say that I had a problem without going to the doctor and getting an official diagnosis. I've had enough negative experience with doctors over things that are straightforward to treat, so I will not waste my time going to see one when I have enough nous to realise that I do suffer from the winter blues. Looking back I know I suffered with SAD from as early as the age of fifteen. At the time, I thought I was depressed because the boy I fancied rejected me. It didn't help, I'm sure, but I felt so incredibly low during that time and saddened in many ways that there had to be more to it than just some boy breaking my heart.

Therefore, it is up to me to do what I can to cope with this. I've always thought hibernation made good sense, but alas it is not very practical for us human beings. So, how do I cope?

The main thing I always do is to continue doing all the things I do normally, and to ensure that I go to social events. It is a struggle to stay motivated, but the end point is that I get out, see other people, and hey, I even manage to enjoy myself! It stops me from staying in and wallowing. This weekend I went to a friend's hen party in London. Right up to the point where I needed to catch the train I didn't want to go. But I made myself. My reasons were that I love my friend and wanted to celebrate with her, I would get to see a few friends from university who I hadn't seen for ages, the bridesmaids had planned an itinerary that sounded great and I knew deep down that it would be a lot of fun, and also I had bought an outfit specially. I had to keep reminding myself of this as I battled the negative thoughts in my brain – that I was too tired, that the whole day would exhaust me further, that I didn't feel like being happy, that I didn't want to spend all that money, that it would be a nightmare getting home because I would need to get a rail replacement bus part of the way – all the things that are just an annoyance normally appear to be mountains when I've got SAD - did I really want to force myself to go to this event?

Well, I did go, and I had a fantastic time. I really enjoyed myself, and more importantly my friend had an awesome time.

On Fridays I do youth work at my church, and throughout last winter I never wanted to go. Obviously, I've made a commitment to be there, so it that made it easier to decide to go in the first place. The bigger problem was with motivating myself to be happy, to be someone who the kids could talk to and have a laugh with, and to be in a position to let them unload their own problems onto me. Thankfully, God is so good, and He always gave me the strength to be there for the kids, whether it was just chatting about how much we love My Neighbour Totoro, or letting them cry on my shoulder over something hurting them, or answering some of their deep questions about God and Christianity. And I would come away every Friday evening filled with joy because these young people are wonderful, and their energy is infectious.

Totoro always makes me happy

Going out, for an ad-hoc social event or for a regular voluntary job, is very hard for me when SAD has hit me with full force, but it is always worth it, and in some way medicates me.

There are a couple of other things:

SAD Lamp or Lightbox – my husband bought me one of these as an early Christmas present a couple of years ago. The sun makes a massive difference to my sense of wellbeing throughout the year. That's why I actually find grey and dismal days in the summer so hard to handle as well. In winter the sun's rays are less powerful, and you're also much more likely to not be outside when the sun is shining, due to travelling to and from work in the dark. Having said that, I do try and spend some time outside during the winter when it is sunny. Nevertheless, I need a bit of help. So, my lightbox mimics the sun's rays in summer. You only need to spend between 30 minutes and an hour in front of it a day. I usually use mine for about 45 minutes whilst I read or do a Bible study in the morning. When I first used this I wasn't sure if it was actually helping, but it does make a difference. Waking up is still horrible, but after using the lightbox I found myself more alert in the mornings, and better able to face the day than I had been before. It's not a miracle, but it certainly helps.

God – praying and bringing my woes to God always makes a difference. He always gives me the strength when I feel unable to do even the most basic things because of this depression.

Not being too hard on myself – sometimes I just give in and let the blues overtake me. Sometimes I channel this into writing. Other times I just wrap up in a blanket, make a hot drink, and watch a film. This will often be something light and funny, but occasionally I will indulge in a sad film and let myself cry and wallow and just be sad. This is part of who I am, and every now and then I allow myself to be absorbed, to face it head on, let it do its work, and then pick myself up and carry on with life.

This year, I the blues have crept up on me slightly earlier than usual, and at a time when I am feeling happier than I have in ages. Thankfully, now they are here I know what I need to do. This autumn and winter are full of exciting plans, and I intend to enjoy myself as much as I can.


Photo my own. Picture courtesy of Google Images.

A Very Merry Perry Update

We started brewing our own pear cider in the basement at the end of August. We had thought it might not be ready until Christmas, but the liquid had cleared, and the fermentation had stopped. The time had come, already, to taste it.

It is seriously good. Who knew the pears from my parents' garden could be so delicious? For many years these pears have fallen from the trees, left to rot or to be devoured by wasps.

We have a bottle of the perry in the fridge and gave another to a friend. My husband has decanted the rest into  demi-johns to allow it to mature, so it will hopefully have a fuller flavour for Bonfire Night and then again for Christmas.

As I related in my first post on the cider brewing, we had more pears than we knew what to do with. There was only so much the brewing bucket, and indeed the juicer, could take - we seriously need to invest in a press for next year! So we stewed as many pears as we could and then froze them.

On Monday my wonderful chef of a husband cooked up one of the frozen batches and made a delicious chocolate and pear trifle.

It's been great taking something that grows on our own land (ok, my parents' land), and turning it into something so tasty.

More cider updates to follow in due course!

Answering the Call

Today I begin my first day working from home. Today I begin to treat my writing as my career. For it was what I was made to do. Ever since I was 5 I have wanted to write fiction. When I first wrote a story at school I loved it. It came to me completely naturally and if I could have, I would have spent the rest of my school life writing stories. I have always had talent there.

But I haven't always believed in myself. I have had my self-esteem seriously crushed, particularly through secondary school, but also through experiences in my adult life. Through this, I have always written. It has always been my outlet. It has always been my dream to write. But I have accepted that life is not that simple. And I have never taken the step to make writing my 'career'. I always thought that somehow it would just happen. Even though I have settled for mediocre jobs that have only required a maximum of 5 A-C grade GCSEs. Jobs that have worn me out and sucked all of my energy from me, to the point where so tired and downbeat it has been a struggle to keep a home and to do all the voluntary work at church that I am involved in. Where is the time in all that to write? Yes, sometimes I made time, I had to. But it is not enough.

All my life God has been calling me to this. There is a reason this is my dream. There is a reason that I love writing so much. There is a reason that when I write stories, I feel home...

On 31st July this year I finally answered Him. I said, "Yes."

For so long I have said, "One day I will do it. One day when we have enough money. One day when I can have the perfect writing space at home. One day when I am doing a job I love that will give me the motivation. I will do it, but not now." I was using a flawed logic. The more I put off what I have been made to do the harder I have made it to do it. And I have indirectly been distancing myself from God.

Genesis 12: 1-9. That's what the sermon at the evening service on 31st July 2011 was about. God spoke to me loud and clear. I knew then that I had to make this step. I had to leave a job that was destroying me psychologically. And like Abram, I had to answer God's call and make the leap of faith.

So here I am. Excited, scared, but trusting in Him completely.

Last week I started a part-time office job for one of the emergency services. The rest of the week I will be writing. I believe that eventually writing will become my only job. At the moment it is right for me to stay in office work. I am trusting God, and I know that part of that trust is being obedient - money has to come from somewhere, and my husband's job also has to be supported by some kind of income on my part. Nevertheless, it's a cut on what I was bringing in, and things will be tight.

Yet, this is absolutely the right thing to be doing. The support of both mine and my husband's families has been brilliant. The very people we expected to try and dissuade me, have been nothing but happy for me, and they are behind me 100%.

I know this will be a challenge. It is not going to be easy. That is why I am doing this completely through faith.

I was too comfortable in my 'safe' job, but I was miserable. I was a square peg in a round hole, pretending to be something I'm not, and not fulfilling my purpose in life.

The time has come for change, and here I am. He gave everything for me. I am answering His call, and He is with me every step of the way.

The Colours of Autumn

We've just had a beautiful stretch of weather here in England with clear blue skies and warm temperatures. It's the hottest start to October that we've had in many many years according to the Met Office.

Whatever the facts we've been enjoying this extra spurt of summer. Yesterday was the last of the warm spell, and as my first day of freedom from the council I decided to enjoy it. My husband had taken the day off work so we took a picnic to Sheffield Park and then wandered around the landscaped gardens to admire the amazing colours of the trees at this time of year.

Our garden at home is full of Michaelmas daisies and rosehips, and yesterday the ivy was graced with red admiral butterflies and numerous honey bees. My husband spend a long time taking pictures - below are a couple of my favourites.

Our fruit and veg have come to their seasonal end, except the squashes which are a little confused by the heat and have begun to grow. We hope to harvest them before the first frost!

Photos my own.

Saying Goodbye II

It's been two years and two months since I left my first proper real-life adult job. And on Friday I left my second.

This goodbye was bittersweet. I have made the right decision to leave, there is absolutely no doubt about it. I intend to write another post on my reasons why. The day was joyful, strange and manic! Here are some recollections of the day:

The night before I had been baking cakes - vanilla cupcakes with choc fudge icing, mini banana breads, and chocolate cornflake cakes (I foolishly burnt my signature chocolate flapjacks, much to my great distress!) - ready to treat my colleagues to the sweet delights once more.

In the morning I placed all the cakes in different tins and boxes and then put them in a large hessian Waitrose bag, and put it by the door ready to take to work. I finished getting ready, only just remembering to pick up the Waitrose bag, and off I went.

I arrived at the office to find a pink helium balloon in the shape of a star tied to my chair, with a farewell message written in silver glitter. It had a charming little bell to weigh it down, which made me jingle like a cat's collar whenever I moved.

The balloon is still bobbing away in the living room at home

Once my boss arrived I was sent on a brief mission across the road to purchase the best sausage rolls in the whole world ever from the local butcher's for a team breakfast. When I got back a set of presents in blue polka-dot wrapping paper were sitting on my desk, along with a card. There were some really lovely messages in the card, some of real thanks for all the work I'd done, which made me smile. The presents were a lovely little notebook and pen for my writing, and a cookie jar with cookie cutters and heart-shaped silicon cupcake cases to encourage me in my baking adventures!

My cute card from my colleagues

So, the morning rolled on. Presents opened, sausage rolls scoffed, post delivered, and it was time to put out the cakes and invite colleagues from across four floors to come and gorge themselves. That's when I discovered that rather than bring the cakes from home, I had brought back all my stuff that I had cleared from my desk and locker the day before! I'd put them in the same style of Waitrose hessian bag!!! Amazingly my boss let me go home to switch bags and I made it there and back in 20 minutes, which was impressive because we are experiencing a heatwave at the moment, and hot weather always slows me down!

The cakes were duly gobbled after that little fiasco, and then I had a 2 hour lunch break in the pub over the road, celebrating with a few old colleagues as well as my team, and some of the Environment and Road Safety chaps who I have worked closest with over the last two years. We sat basking in the glorious sunshine, eating delicious food and chatting about all kinds of things. I really will miss working with those people in particular, so I was glad they came and joined me for a drink.

I then spent the afternoon running around like a headless chicken, ensuring all was neat and tidy, and that I'd made things clear and easy for the newbie and for my colleague who will be covering my core tasks until said newbie arrives.

Before I knew it, it was gone 5. Apparently it is unacceptable to work past that time on your last day, especially when your last day is a Friday...and pay day...and dress down day... Then my boss insisted on taking me for a drink, as she hadn't bought one for me earlier, so I agreed.

I had a quick drink with her and a few colleagues we bumped into at the pub, and then I made my way home, my pink star balloon bobbing behind me, sprinkling glitter all over me every time it bounced off my head.

I had expected to skip out of that place, overjoyed, and thrilled. I didn't. I am thrilled about leaving, I really am. But it hasn't sunk in yet. It feels so surreal, and in my head I still think I'm going back there. I still feel that I have something to do. And a little bit of me is mourning the only piece of work I actually enjoyed doing there - GIS work on historical mapping for the archaeologists - something I wasn't paid to do, that someone of my pay scale is assumed not to be capable of doing, something that I had to engineer and tie in with council policy to be allowed to do it, and then for only one morning a week. This work reminded me that I am capable of so much more than lousy admin, which I was never truly cut out to do anyway, being rubbish at filing and all... I had intellectually stimulating conversations with the archaeologists, and of course we had shared interests. When I did research work for them I felt like I was doing something useful, I was using my brain, and it was like studying, which deep down I do miss. Quite a lot actually.

I will be looking for part-time jobs in the future where I can do something similar, but for now I am going onto something else.

So, I do feel a bit melancholy about that. The current financial climate is just not a good time to work in local government, the promotion opportunities are few and far between, and lots of specialist work is being cut, sometimes completely. I had to get out. There was no question about it.

I know that my time working at the council has been a valuable life experience, not good most of the time, but I have learnt from it, and I hope that it has made me stronger.

I definitely made the right decision to leave, and a little sadness aside, I do not regret it.

Photos my own.