Friday, 27 September 2013

We're all waiting for you

In the nursery,
Big Ted, Winnie The Pooh and Eeyore,
the bunnies,
Peter Rabbit,
even the knitted cardigans and teddy slippers,
not forgetting the baby record books and photo album. Everyone is waiting for you baby T! 

Wednesday, 11 September 2013

B is for bored

He looked at me with a mix of pure horror and utter confusion.
“What will you do with your time?”
“Oh I’ll think of something,” was my calm response.
I’m working late, dear readers. It seemed like a good idea at the time when I agreed to work late so hubby could football train. I mentally noted I could donate extra hours to the paper contract extension, and any other important matters.
The problem is, it’s been a quiet period in the office, so I’ve completed the paper contract extension and all other important matters. I’m entirely on top of the work load and my hand over folder to my maternity cover. I'm now awaiting for the next printing schedule/crisis. (This is very rare, might I add.)
Hence my maternity cover’s reaction when referring to the fact I would not be rushing out the door at 5pm on the dot.
But in my mind, there are always things to do. Whether I’m left alone in the office or the house, or I’ve been abandoned for football, I never struggle to fill my time.
I literally can not remember the last time I moaned I was bored. Bored is not a word in my vocabulary.
Take last night for instance, hubby was watching football and it was not a particularly interesting match. I was trying to watch The Great British Bake Off on the ipad, but to my annoyance, it kept crashing. Instead of slouching on the sofa complaining the match was boring and I was bored, I decided to plonk myself upstairs and make forthcoming birthday cards. Once this task was completed, I surfed the internet for forthcoming birthday ideas, and then I finished off with a bubble bath, scented candles, and a magazine. Bored? Nope, not me sir.
Likewise with tonight. I could sit here moping and staring out the window at KFC, thinking how boring this is, but what good is that? Besides, I can always think of something to do to amuse myself. My brain hardly ever switches off, and I am not a fan of wasting time.
So tonight, from the office, I need to chase the company I ordered the Peter Rabbit nursery linen from.
I must text a friend to make arrangements for her daughter’s birthday on Sunday.
I should finalise another arrangement to see another friend’s new born baby.
I will telephone the Indian restaurant to book a table for Saturday night, our first wedding anniversary.
I’ll read the emails hubby has sent me regarding Cornwall holiday cottages for next year.
I will also do some work stuff, such as shredding old finances I’ve come across as a result of cleaning out my drawers.
As well as shredding I will recycle old magazines to make way for new ones.
I think I'll finally get round to clearing out the contents underneath my desk, and fill my carrier bags with books, shoes and cake tins.
I’d like to stroll over to the desk at the end of office, and help myself to the chocolate shortbread, which a colleague kindly brought into the office, to celebrate six years in employment.
All this must be completed before my (later) train home!
So yes, there are plenty of things to do with my time, and I’m afraid, dear readers, there is no time left to blog about it.
And certainly no time to use that b word.

Wednesday, 4 September 2013

Man verses woman

I have interviewed and employed my maternity cover. And he’s a man.
I mention this fact because, my once female dominated working environment is gradually being over taken by men.
It has been noticed and remarked upon. Only yesterday lunchtime a male colleague, in between munching his chips in the staff canteen, said to me, “As you’re the only girl at the table can we talk about pen knives and Star Wars instead of make-up and shoes?”
“When do I ever talk about make-up and shoes?” was my puzzled reply, after taking a gulp of my spicy tomato soup.
Yes I may be female and wear make-up, but I’ve never considered cosmetics particularly exciting. If I’m reading a magazine I’ll often skip the pages containing the new season lipstick colours and one hundred different ways to wear blue eye shadow. Plus I have the most sensitive feet in the world, therefore I hate buying new shoes as I associate new foot wear with blistered toes, bleeding heels and aching arches.
I guess this was just a general reference to girly stuff, but it did make me question whether I could be placed in the she’s-so-girly category?
And for the record, pen knives don’t float my boat either, but I do like Star Wars. Star Wars films are classics from my childhood, not forgetting the modern day version. Ewoks, from a galaxy far, far away, are also very cute. Although I don’t suppose you’d catch a man admitting his fondness for these furry animals? He’d more likely comment that Darth Vader was the ultimate baddie, or he wished he had a lightsabre to fight battles with.
Hmm, now it’s my turn to gender define. I suppose we can all be guilty of this, and not wishing to sound sexist or politically incorrect, but we are different.
There are female and male hormones, sometimes they meet in the middle and over-lap, but generally I think we can be separated due to our genes.
Is this such a terrible statement to make? I’m all for equal rights but sometimes we have to admit, we are built differently and this could mean men and women behave differently.
I was even more aware of this when I waddled into the office the very next day and asked my female colleague if she’d watched The Great British Bake Off the night before.
“Those trifles were amazing," was her reply, as we discussed ginger cake bases and coconut toppings. Whilst commenting on oven temperatures, I couldn’t help noticing my male maternity cover was rolling his eyes, after scanning his computer screen for the cricket results.
Of course men can bake as well, and there are many expert bakers on TGBBO, but it’s not every man’s dream. Hubby and I usually like watching cookery programmes together, but there’s something about baking which does not appeal to him whatsoever. When I settled down to view trifles and meringues, he opened his tool box and disappeared upstairs to screw together the nursery wardrobe, much to my delight.
I noted that watching this series was an excellent way to encourage him to leave the room and participate in DIY!
Maybe this gender difference isn’t such a bad thing either.
Definitely not in our house anyway, on a Tuesday evening in September.