As you'll read, things are a little topsy-turvy this week, so this is not in the 'normal' style of Lemondrizzle post. Don't worry, I'll post again in the next few days: that should be ample opportunity for me to be outwitted by our 4-year old, or for our toddler to batter me senseless, both of which seem to be perennially popular topics...
A couple of things have happened this week that means it time to turn the spotlight on Mrs Natasha Collins, A.K.A Nini (to her family and friends) A.K.A 'The Long Haired General', or 'The Breadknife' (those last two are terms I've previously used, in a joking manner, to describe her to friends, and both have brought her to the very precipice of violent rage - so sharing them here is both risky and stupid, and clearly a deliberate act of provocation. But it's all typed out now, and the Delete key isn't working. Honest.).
Anyway, two things: On Friday I got made redundant from my job, and on Sunday it was Ninis' birthday, so it's fair to say it has been something of a mixed weekend.
I'm not going to talk about my job (or lack thereof), because in a short time I've grown a bit sick of talking or even thinking about it, and I have a policy of not discussing work here anyway: it's certainly not sitting at a desk or on an aeroplane that brings colour to my life, so why write about it? But I would like to say to the pool of readers that are also now my ex-colleagues, thank you so much for the messages of concern and support you sent me, it was very welcome and touching. Right now, having weighed everything up, I'm feeling OK about the situation -this evening, while we were bathing the kids, Nini said it was the first day for a year where I seemed cheerful after working hours. So perhaps things have happened for the best. (Now please send money: my kids need shoes/clothes/plastic 'Hello Kitty!' merchandise).
But I do want to talk about my wife. Regular readers will have noticed that pretty much every post I write makes her look like a saint, and me like a shambling cretin, and will no doubt have assumed I have exaggerated for comic effect. Sadly not...
The fact is that, since Fridays news, Nini has been hurrying around, getting financial advice, cancelling direct debits, changing our mortgage terms, endless re-budgeting and basically planning for a protracted period where we have no monthly income. By comparison, I have sat in my office in the loft, spending a large proportion of my time either staring out of the window brooding or playing Nintendo. Nini even suggested we cancel her birthday meal out, despite the fact that she had more than earned it and we haven't had a meal out alone together in the 18 months since Neve was born. She also radiates positivity, while I, ever the pessimist, run through a million scenarios in my head and decide that the darkest one is most likely ("I'll never get another job and we won't be able to afford house insurance and then while we are out begging the house will get hit by a meteorite...")
We didn't cancel the meal and I'm glad; she deserved a birthday treat, and even though it wasn't perhaps the best circumstances we had a great time. And that was perhaps the turning point for me: I awoke on Monday filled with sense of purpose and able to glimpse fresh opportunities, which is how it should be.
So, following your fairly miserable birthday weekend, a simple belated birthday message for Nini: I love you, and thankyou. You already know that everything I do is for you and our girls - but what I've never told you properly before was that I couldn't do any of it without you...
Tuesday 22 January 2008
For better or worse...
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2 comments:
A couple of months ago, on my way into Sainsbury's, I saw a rough-looking fella stood in the entrance with a hi-viz jacket on with "Big Issue" printed on it, he was re-enforcing the brand by calling out "Big Issue" at the top of his voice to all the passers-by. Thinking it was quite a long time since I had supported this cause I approached the fella and told him I'd take one, to which he replied that he'd "run out" and so couldn't actually provide me with the service for which I was prepared to pay. So I said "Maybe next time then!" and continued into the store, only to hear him mumbling, "tight b*****d" as I left.
A couple of weeks later in town, I saw a lady selling Big Issue, and feeling a little bit bad for what had happened at Sainsbury's I approached and said, "I'll take one". She smiled and handed me the magazine as I passed over a shiny pound coin, to which she snatched back the magazine and gruffly said, "One-fifty mate!". Unfortunately that was my last shiny pound coin, so I said,"sorry that's all I've got..." and in a fit of generosity I said,"...but it's alright, you can keep the quid!" and started to walk away with a rather warm glow inside. This lasted for about a tenth of a second, as I felt a sharp pain in the back of my leg as a shiny round object bounced off me, this was followed by a scream of,what do ya fink I am, a f***in' charity???"
Anyway Paul, no matter how hard it gets, with the pressure to put food on the table for your lovely family - DON'T be tempted to take this as a career route, although I do realise that the countless opportunities to vent your spleen to complete strangers could prove to be too much of a lure to turn down.
take care, catch up soon,
KC
You can afford to shop in Sainsburys?
Get you, Mr Fancypants...
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