On Saturday night we went to bed with the central heating on. Last night it was back to the fan. And today I spent the last couple of hours of work in the back garden, amongst the bedding plants and blackberries.
Autumn is coming. I caught its scent in the grass today and glimpsed its shadow when I woke up. It was fleeting. But it’s coming.
For today’s August Break post I thought I’d share where I work. This is my office.
Okay, okay, I tidied the desk for the pic.
Given the amount of time I spend here I thought I’d make it comfortable.
The shelves are my favourite part.
Last week we ’saved’ our Bank Holiday and took it this week instead. It was a complete break from work with no phones, no queries and no schedules. The last time I had a proper weekend off work was back in June when we went to Hay. And given that our next break won’t be for a while we wanted to make this one count.
The thing about time off work when you run a business is that you end up working the day off in advance. So by the time Saturday arrived we were knackered. We had a bit of a slow morning with a late breakfast and then went along to The Whitworth Art Gallery. I’ve only ever visited the gallery as part of an event and have never really taken the time to have a proper look round. It’s a lot bigger than I thought and there’s lots to see. But what I like best about it is that alongside more traditional pieces are modern works by contemporary artists and makers. And it’s not just about art. I particularly enjoyed the textile collection, which gave me lots of ideas.
After the gallery it was home for a quick tea and then off to The Lowry to see Prick up Your Ears. If you get chance, go and see this play. It’s dark, funny and uncomfortably moving.
On Sunday we went for a guided walk around Manchester. This probably sounds a bit odd. I mean I’ve lived here for most of life but there’s so much that I don’t know about the area. For example, did you know that the three lines on the Manchester crest symbolize the three rivers? The Medlock, the Irk and the Irwell. Walking round and listening to a guide makes you see things you might normally overlook or take for granted. And of course I love stories and so the guide had a captive audience. There were only four of us, my husband and me and a couple visiting from Austria.
On Monday we ended up in Haworth. Yes, I admit I saw the recent adaptation and it sparked my interest. I’ve started to reread ‘Wuthering Heights’ and wanted to go back to the moors to see where it all began. I’ve been to Haworth before but I’d never visited the Parsonage. This is where the Brontë family lived from 1820 to 1861. It’s full of interesting artifacts and some of the family’s personal possessions. A brooch made from Charlotte’s hair, her writing box and paints, pictures, letters, diary entries. All absolutely fascinating.
Some of the costumes from the recent ITV adaptation were also on loan and it was interesting to see the inspiration behind them. To be honest I felt that Cathy’s clothes were a bit too modern but it seems that this had been the intention. The costume designer had wanted to move away from traditional garments of the period and introduce a slightly more contemporary look. The strong colours of Cathy’s clothes mirrored the countryside and were later ‘bleached out’ when she went to live with the Lintons, to symbolize the ‘taming’ of her nature. There’s more information on the ITV website.
Later we walked on the moors. The sun came out and it was the perfect end to the long weekend.
And when I got up for work on Tuesday autumn had arrived.
For the record – Lord Levy is a very patient man. Last night we went to IKEA. Again. For the second consecutive Saturday night. This time it was to look for furniture for my new office. He didn’t moan once. He didn’t moan when I spent half an hour looking for an armchair. He didn’t moan when I couldn’t decide which patterned magazine holders to buy. He didn’t moan when he had to go back into the store to find the correct light bulbs for my new desk lamp. Nor did he moan when we had to take quite a lot of of gardening equipment out of the car to get the furniture in.
He is truly a patient man.
On Wednesday I went to a work-related seminar. These things tend to be fairly standard. You book in advance when it all seems like a good idea. When the email drops into your mail box you think, “Yes I’ll go to that, keep up to date with the industry, do some networking . . . . ‘ But when the day arrives and you have to make your way into town after a full day at work, you curse at making the booking in the first place and particularly for following it up when no-one emailed to confirm.
At the start of the event, after filling in a European funding form and pinning on a name badge, you kind of hang around a little, feeling awkward. A number of faces will be familiar. First up are the hosts and the sponsors. The sponsors will have a pop-up stand and team of people handing out flyers. Then there are other small business owners, staff from the universities, a few students and some techies. You can tell the techies apart from the students as they wear t-shirts with RSS logos and slogans that you don’t quite understand. And lastly there are the ‘professional networkers’. These people will go to the opening of a can of beans if there’s the promise of a free glass of wine. Then you’re called in to sit down.
There’s always a ‘warm-up guy’ who begins by going through the ‘house keeping’ as it now seems to be called. How to find the toilet and how to get out if the building catches on fire. An hour later you secretly start to wish for the latter scenario. Then the speakers are introduced and it begins.
Of course these things always start late and then tend to overrun and just when you think it’s nearly over they invite questions. This sends a secret message to every dufus in the room who loves the sound of his / her own voice to suddenly pipe up. So you sit there another 10 minutes, shuffling to stop your bum going numb on the plastic chairs. And finally – it’s finished. Everyone congregates in the adjoining room to drink a plastic cup full of tepid wine. And all that remains is to judge how long you can leave it before making a dash for the exit without seeming impolite.
Do you remember that episode of ‘Friends’ where Ross, Chandler and Joey go to a club? They sit in the coffee house afterwards complaining about the whole experience and talk about getting older. I felt a bit like that last night. We went out with a few friends and lots of other business colleagues. We didn’t go to a club – oh my god no. We just went for out of a meal in Manchester.
The whole thing lasted for 6 hours at the end of which we spent a further 40 minutes trying to flag a taxi. I was absolutely shattered before we even got to the first course. It was noisy and you had to shout to be heard and I guess it didn’t help that we were stuck with a group of weekend millionaires. You know the type, they have to order a bottle of champagne at each round. And they talked utter drivel all night. I could’ve had a more intelligent conversation with either of the two cats.
Speaking of cats, Tori has surpassed himself. Not content with almost blowing us sky high by chewing cables and then causing a gas leak, for some reason best known to him he has peed inside the toaster. Unfortunately, he didn’t see fit to alert us to this new turn of events and the first we knew of the matter was whilst making supper the other night. As the bread was toasting we looked at each other slightly puzzled at the ‘eau de chat’ wafting around the house.
On that note I think I’ll sign off before hitting the shops for all those last minute presents I still haven’t bought.
And no, we didn’t eat the toast.
Yesterday was not a good day. Nope. In fact it turned out to be a bit of a disaster. It started off well enough as these days often do. We got to work at about 7.00 as usual and went through emails and deleted spam. We’d had our first brew and had started a bit of a ‘discussion’. Nothing major mind, just a bit of healthy marital bickering and in the midst of making my point I leaned backwards onto the desk. There was a loud crack as the desk split down the middle. It hasn’t fully broken but it’s touch and go and now the clutter has to be split in two and placed on either side to stop it bowing.
Unfortunately it didn’t stop there. Dan came round to add new taps to the bathroom sink. Funnily enough it was the same man who had fitted the carpet, decorated the hall and fitted the loft hatch. At the same time he decided to fix the toilet which has been ’slow flushing’ for weeks. Unfortunately he didn’t alert us to this and then ‘popped out’ to get some parts, leaving us with no toilet and no water. We waited as long as we possibly could before dashing home to use the facilities. And then just to put the top hat on it we walked into our kitchen to find water leaking from the ceiling.
This of course did nothing for our stress. We stood there incredulous with the two cats, looking up at the water dripping out of the light fitment, wondering where the hell it was coming from. In the end it took three hours for three plumbers to take up the floorboards and find the source of the leak. Meanwhile I spent an unexpectedly pleasant and relaxing afternoon reading ‘44 Scotland Street’.
This renewed sense of calm didn’t last of course. I received a telephone call at 6.30 to tell me that Dan had cracked the pot and that the toilet would have to wait until mañana.
This week I’ve had a bit of dilemma. We’ve been working overly long hours and as a result the house has started to resemble the set from ‘Shameless’. I mean it’s so bad that I’m constantly on edge in case someone makes an impromptu visit. We’ve been debating this subject for a good few months, more heatedly on occasions when, armed with Mr Muscle Multi Purpose spray and a barrow load of J cloths, we have to negotiate our way from one room to the next, striding over the debris of our lazy domestic lives and the odd cat poo.
Last week the subject came up again and as a result we now have a cleaner. You’d think I’d be overjoyed about this but I’ve spent half of the week feeling guilty and the other half ‘pre-cleaning’. Well, I couldn’t let anyone see it in it’s current state, least of all a cleaner who will have a front row seat to all our slovenly habits.
And the guilt? My grandmother was a war widow, with four children and a full time job. Despite this her house was always spotless and she even polished her front step. My mother raised two children alone, had a full time job, an evening job and our house was always clean, tidy and full of visitors. How on earth did they do it?
So tonight after a week of late nights, guilt and early morning pre-cleaning we will be kicking back with a take-away from the New Himalaya. Well, there’s no way I’m cooking. The cleaner came today and the kitchen is absolutely spotless.
Well, we’re still at work and it’s now 10 to 8. I really don’t feel like cooking tonight but unfortunately it’s my turn. I’ve started being extra nice to Lord Levy in the hope that he’ll suggest a chippy tea. I think he’s on to me because his reply was, “Go home, get that pan cleaned and make my tea”. God, I’d forgotten about the pan.
Right, best dash. The pan that doesn’t fit in the dishwasher and icy glares from the cats beckon.
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