I have a friend who works in Security. He's an undercover security manager or something like that. I had to tell someone what he had to spend time doing today, as to keep it to myself seemed selfish; so here I am typing it for all to see.
Today my friend was searching through in store CCTV footage for images of a middle aged woman taking a poo on a shop floor.
No I am not joking.
It begs the question WHY?
1/ Why was she relieving herself in the store?
2/ Why did the store want to find the footage of the event?
There's more.
Around three o clock he sent a text to say that he had found the footage that he had been required to find. He gave me the following details:
She walked into store and stood (not squatted - apparently this was relevent) and pooed.
She was wearing a skirt with no underwear...(well, that's the HOW? question out of the way then)
She then went to a counter in the shop and asked if they sold tissues. She bought tissues, went outside of the shop and in plain view of any passers by, relieved herself again, this time hitching up her skirt and wiping, then throwing the tissue on the floor.
She re-entered the store and continued with her shopping.
Just had to share that. I have no further information about her state of mind, clothing or whether any charges have been made. so I guess like me, you will be left wondering. WHY?
Friday, July 28, 2006
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Stay at Home Mum
So, a little background.
I have four children. The youngest (J) is four months and the eldest (C) is seven years; inbetween are L and L Junior who are six years and three years respectively. Himself goes off to work at around 5 am and returns around 7.30pm to keep us in the comfortable lifestyle we have become accustomed to and he works his balls off, let me tell you.
My role is the varied one of housekeeper (not so strong at this to be fair); entertainer; taxi driver; stylist; hairdresser; laundery lady; ironer; bill payer; wound/ills healer; entrepeneur (running an e-commerce company - more on this at a later date); impromptu Thesaurus / Dictionary; music teacher; peace keeper; television programme censor; world affairs educator and chef/nutritionist i.e. I'm a mum who is lucky enough to work from home.
What I have failed to mention is that we are also eighteen months into the Emigrating process (to Australia); this means that my further duties include being the family solicitor and immigration/relocation agent which involves staying up to date with the DIMIA rule changes, requirements and Visa charges amongst other things.
I am not complaining.
Far from it - I consider myself very fortunate to live as I do and I acknowledge that there are numerous perks to my position for example:
...so...only one real drawback (not including that fact that some days it would be nice to have to put on full make up and a suit without fear of being sicked on if I did!). Other people. More specifically other childless people who seem to think I have opted out by being at the beck and call of my offspring 24 hours a day. Yeah...it's a real easy option. NOT.
I have had total strangers look at me pityingly and ask when I plan to go "back" to work. I have lost count of the times that I have said "well, actually I work from home" - seriously, why the fuck should I explain myself? I'm not a "stick em infront of the TV whilst I drink incessant cups of coffee" type of mum, I work damn hard from Morning to night, making my babies' lives lively, educational and fun and for now whilst baby is still breastfeeding, I work right through the night too. It astounds me that because my primary career doesn't command a wage, it is judged so poorly.
At the risk of this becoming a full on rant, I must say that the assumptions made by other people is not confined to strangers; I had the pleasure of visiting a close friend for a weekend with only L Junior in tow last year, whilst I was pregnant with J. We had a lovely time doing all of the things that are really tough with three (and now four) children with me - taking the bus across London, kicking a ball around the park, flying a kite, feeding the animals, stopping for snacks on the way and then making cakes when we got home. My [still very close] friend remarked that she would bake cakes every single day when she has children.
"If only I had time" I said.
Her reply? "How do you not have time? What on earth do you do all day?"
...it was time to smile smugly and pull out the patronising tone: "you'll see" I answered.
I have four children. The youngest (J) is four months and the eldest (C) is seven years; inbetween are L and L Junior who are six years and three years respectively. Himself goes off to work at around 5 am and returns around 7.30pm to keep us in the comfortable lifestyle we have become accustomed to and he works his balls off, let me tell you.
My role is the varied one of housekeeper (not so strong at this to be fair); entertainer; taxi driver; stylist; hairdresser; laundery lady; ironer; bill payer; wound/ills healer; entrepeneur (running an e-commerce company - more on this at a later date); impromptu Thesaurus / Dictionary; music teacher; peace keeper; television programme censor; world affairs educator and chef/nutritionist i.e. I'm a mum who is lucky enough to work from home.
What I have failed to mention is that we are also eighteen months into the Emigrating process (to Australia); this means that my further duties include being the family solicitor and immigration/relocation agent which involves staying up to date with the DIMIA rule changes, requirements and Visa charges amongst other things.
I am not complaining.
Far from it - I consider myself very fortunate to live as I do and I acknowledge that there are numerous perks to my position for example:
- not having to wear a suit or uniform/full make up on a daily basis;
- not having to sit next to other people (whom may or may not have terrible body odour) at my laptop;
- not having an unexplainable crush on my boss who flirts outrageously but is strangely unattractive;
- also the option to wear my hair whichever way I choose (most notable for two years when I had beautiful cyclamen coloured dreadlocks and was the envy of many a frustrated hippy working the nine to five)
- not having to smile through bile inducing office bitching;
- more importantly: four pairs of little arms to hug me at any given time of the day; oh,how I would miss that if I were stuck in an office with only a photo of my babies to get me through the day.
...so...only one real drawback (not including that fact that some days it would be nice to have to put on full make up and a suit without fear of being sicked on if I did!). Other people. More specifically other childless people who seem to think I have opted out by being at the beck and call of my offspring 24 hours a day. Yeah...it's a real easy option. NOT.
I have had total strangers look at me pityingly and ask when I plan to go "back" to work. I have lost count of the times that I have said "well, actually I work from home" - seriously, why the fuck should I explain myself? I'm not a "stick em infront of the TV whilst I drink incessant cups of coffee" type of mum, I work damn hard from Morning to night, making my babies' lives lively, educational and fun and for now whilst baby is still breastfeeding, I work right through the night too. It astounds me that because my primary career doesn't command a wage, it is judged so poorly.
At the risk of this becoming a full on rant, I must say that the assumptions made by other people is not confined to strangers; I had the pleasure of visiting a close friend for a weekend with only L Junior in tow last year, whilst I was pregnant with J. We had a lovely time doing all of the things that are really tough with three (and now four) children with me - taking the bus across London, kicking a ball around the park, flying a kite, feeding the animals, stopping for snacks on the way and then making cakes when we got home. My [still very close] friend remarked that she would bake cakes every single day when she has children.
"If only I had time" I said.
Her reply? "How do you not have time? What on earth do you do all day?"
...it was time to smile smugly and pull out the patronising tone: "you'll see" I answered.
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Massive Red Bill
I recently got a massive red bill from the bank of friendship.
Friendships change.
As our lives move on and our interests alter:
From boys... to men;
From recreational drugs... to ones that will legitimately heal our ills;
From boyfriends with fast motorbikes... to our own little boys' monumental first ride in the park on a pushbike without stabilizers
From white cider whilst sprawled on a park bench... to red wine perched on a glossed park bench in a tapas restaurant...mmm the debatable "rustic" look.
You get what I am saying. My life is ever changing and evolving, which is great; but inevitably, some things get left by the wayside.
For me, these "things" are for the most part, friendships. I am just abysmal at keeping them going. Some of my friendships have been mutually outgrown; some I've neglected; some I've run from at pace. It's those that I have neglected that influence what I am writing today.
My friend died just a few weeks ago. I hadn't seen her for some time and her death didn't seem real to me for ages. When the inevitable "personalising" of the whole situation kicked in, I had difficulty in breathing whilst carrying the weight of my guilt about the things I should have said and the things I shouldn't have said.
The time I could have stopped for a drink, but I had to get back to the exciting task of finding my wayward drummer best friend who was at the time off his face in the middle of a festival before he went on stage...
...you see that was the last time I saw her.
I didn't go to the funeral.
This would make me a bad person apart from the enormous list of reason and excuses that I have listed in my head ever since, including having my four young chldren to care for who couldn't attend the funeral of someone that they didn't actually know (hell, I kept them away from their paternal grandfathers' funeral due to a distinct lack of contact for the preceeding year or so); the fact that one of the afore metioned brood is breastfed and I don't like the idea of a wet - nurse, I think it strange and wrong (...hmmn, perhaps subject matter for a future blog?) other entries on the list include a 300 mile journey each way and a dreaded fear of bumping into other not so nice cast member of my past.
I have rationalized my feelings for my friend and her early departure. She'd have kicked my arse for having not turned up to the funeral. So no excuses will do. Some how that makes it ok with me, our relationship has the same dynamic that it always had. Me feeling guilty about not expending time for her. Her knowing that I am just a rubbish friend.
So. Anyway. There are very few things that I believe in, but recent events have catapulted me into an Earl Hickey Karma-conscious type of existence. I am righting the wrongs ahead of time. No scrappy afterthought list for me. No, I made a point of NOT watching a movie in bed on my son's confiscated TV so that it did not blow up and set the house alight in a fit of Karmic rage; I sent an email to a friend I have been meaning to mail for a while instead of doing my washing up last night, because the washing up was still here this morning, but I couldn't garuntee 100% thast she would be (she's not ill, I 'm just being "careful"); I didn't lie to my two eldest sons' teachers when I took them out of school for a day trip, I told the truth that their birth father lives in Dubai and could only see them for one day in the UK, on his way to L.A or wherever he was jetting off to next...it was working I was sure.
I have been a shining example of all that is good, wholesome - ish and honest, loyal, environmentally sound, kind etc and my life has been peaceful and positive and really very enjoyable. But then, my six year old son ran into the road and was hit by a car*. So I am going to start taking two sugars in my tea again for starters, because being so wonderful, pius, clear concienced and serene didn't make him hold my hand by the road, but being shouty, scary mummy that won't tolerate messing around on the pavement does.
* He's fine
Friendships change.
As our lives move on and our interests alter:
From boys... to men;
From recreational drugs... to ones that will legitimately heal our ills;
From boyfriends with fast motorbikes... to our own little boys' monumental first ride in the park on a pushbike without stabilizers
From white cider whilst sprawled on a park bench... to red wine perched on a glossed park bench in a tapas restaurant...mmm the debatable "rustic" look.
You get what I am saying. My life is ever changing and evolving, which is great; but inevitably, some things get left by the wayside.
For me, these "things" are for the most part, friendships. I am just abysmal at keeping them going. Some of my friendships have been mutually outgrown; some I've neglected; some I've run from at pace. It's those that I have neglected that influence what I am writing today.
My friend died just a few weeks ago. I hadn't seen her for some time and her death didn't seem real to me for ages. When the inevitable "personalising" of the whole situation kicked in, I had difficulty in breathing whilst carrying the weight of my guilt about the things I should have said and the things I shouldn't have said.
The time I could have stopped for a drink, but I had to get back to the exciting task of finding my wayward drummer best friend who was at the time off his face in the middle of a festival before he went on stage...
...you see that was the last time I saw her.
I didn't go to the funeral.
This would make me a bad person apart from the enormous list of reason and excuses that I have listed in my head ever since, including having my four young chldren to care for who couldn't attend the funeral of someone that they didn't actually know (hell, I kept them away from their paternal grandfathers' funeral due to a distinct lack of contact for the preceeding year or so); the fact that one of the afore metioned brood is breastfed and I don't like the idea of a wet - nurse, I think it strange and wrong (...hmmn, perhaps subject matter for a future blog?) other entries on the list include a 300 mile journey each way and a dreaded fear of bumping into other not so nice cast member of my past.
I have rationalized my feelings for my friend and her early departure. She'd have kicked my arse for having not turned up to the funeral. So no excuses will do. Some how that makes it ok with me, our relationship has the same dynamic that it always had. Me feeling guilty about not expending time for her. Her knowing that I am just a rubbish friend.
So. Anyway. There are very few things that I believe in, but recent events have catapulted me into an Earl Hickey Karma-conscious type of existence. I am righting the wrongs ahead of time. No scrappy afterthought list for me. No, I made a point of NOT watching a movie in bed on my son's confiscated TV so that it did not blow up and set the house alight in a fit of Karmic rage; I sent an email to a friend I have been meaning to mail for a while instead of doing my washing up last night, because the washing up was still here this morning, but I couldn't garuntee 100% thast she would be (she's not ill, I 'm just being "careful"); I didn't lie to my two eldest sons' teachers when I took them out of school for a day trip, I told the truth that their birth father lives in Dubai and could only see them for one day in the UK, on his way to L.A or wherever he was jetting off to next...it was working I was sure.
I have been a shining example of all that is good, wholesome - ish and honest, loyal, environmentally sound, kind etc and my life has been peaceful and positive and really very enjoyable. But then, my six year old son ran into the road and was hit by a car*. So I am going to start taking two sugars in my tea again for starters, because being so wonderful, pius, clear concienced and serene didn't make him hold my hand by the road, but being shouty, scary mummy that won't tolerate messing around on the pavement does.
* He's fine
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
