Saturday, September 29, 2007

Yesterday was one of my friends from the museums last day. The swine is moving to Switzerland.
So I was in charge of organising his leaving party. Which is always fun cos there's a hardcore amount of people at the Museum, who will only frequent ONE pub (The yacht), and complain loudly and bitterly and throw kiddy tantrums and refuse to attend anything that is held elsewhere.
Then you have people who dislike studenty places, like WeatherSpoons and Greenwich's version of Our Beloved Friary, the auctioneer, which is actually my favourite pub in Greenwich and where me and Welshy go a lot.
And then you have people like me, who dont really give a fuck where they go, as long as they go SOMEWHERE!
And to add to this mix is the few people who wanted (me and another guy) to watch the Rugby (aaah to the last WC when I dragged CL and MH out of bed to watch the final and then took CL to her first football match)
Being as the only pub I know with a Telly is the Auctioneer, it was the one I settled on, I spent all week informing people of this situation. I gave them a chance to change their mind and find me somewhere better but by 4.40 when I left work to go home, get changed and collect the leaving present, the location was The Auctioneer.
So imagine my disgust and rage when waiting for my bus back into Greenwich at 5.10 that they wanted to go to the Yacht and in fact thats where they were.
And believe me an enraged Charbs is not a pleasant sight. I raged all the way silently on the bus, stormed down the road, Slammed my way into the pub and announced loudly to a shocked group of workmates, barstaff and other unfortunate lookers on that:
and other such pleasantries. And then I instantly felt bad, as their jaws dropped, unbelieving that I can utter such phrases, and actually be mad at anyone, and then as quickly as I'd raged my temper was gone and a good night was had by all. The Guy in Question Loved his present, England won the rugby, I got to wear star sequins all night, get mildly (ahem) drunk and pin a collegue down and demand to know, point blankly and quite rudely.
"You know Are you gay? I mean It dont bother me, I'm just curious like."
Apparently he's not though. Ooops! But all was well when we bonded over our mutual love of Dolly Parton!

Today I was in the Queens House which was built for the Wife of Charles the 1st and is mainly used as an art gallery today.
I discovered that a lot of the floorboards are loose, and of course my imagination run riot with me and I started pulling them up and looking, hopefully for lost treasure, but finding instead only a few fuse boxes and power points.
Still. I remain hopeful that i'll find something and am even considering leaving a message for gallery assistants of the future down there.

Monday, September 24, 2007

there's been another sign that I do actually own JesusBird.
He was watching one of the Rosellas enjoy a bath in the last of the summer sunshine
And decided to play too.

And so JesusBird took a step into the water. And sunk.
But then! The miracle happened!
He actually walked on water, ok, admittedly there was a lot of flapping and some hovering but there was a secong or two when he was WALKING ON WATER!
N mocked that he was actually JesusBird. He then went to work the next day and found that his clutch was on gone on his car. And thats what happens when you mock the JesusBird.
JesusBird (grey one) and his Disciples!

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

Yesterday was dead exciting!
Mum woke me up at half 6 and dragged me to look out the window at our birds and there! Sitting on the roof, shivering and looking very miserable was the cockatiel!
Not eaten after all! He was minus a tail, so I guess when the hawk chased him next door, he managed to grab his tail and pull that off and my stray escaped!
So I put the cage out with some food in it and he didnt have the energy to fly to it, he dragged himself down, walked across the grass and hopped in and i ran out and shut the door on him!
He shouted at his big adventure being over and I brought him indoors for a bit but he kicked up such a fuss I let him into the aviary.
He clambered up to Satan Cockatiel, had a bit of a preen, cleaned himself up and had a nap and then Satan showed him where the seed was. Which was pretty clever of him really.
The Brat wanted to call him Jesus, cos he came back from the dead. But I pointed out that as much as I thought the name suited him it might not go down well with the religious types next door.
So we named him Dodge, cos he successfully dodged the Hawk.
And on another bird related note, we won last night with 2 perfectly taken penalties from Andy Reid! Our promotion bid is well and truely underway!

Monday, September 17, 2007

Good things.... Bad things.


Being on tickets with fun people...
Being near the entrance to another gallery.... being near the light switch.... being able to turn the lights off everytime the GA walked into a different part and gleefully awaiting his grumble about how the shoddy electricans kept breaking the lights or the rotten kids turning his lights off...
Being promised that the next time the flag needs to come down from the observatory roof, that I can climb up there with the New Gallery Manager to play....
The stray cockatiel that spent most of the day around the aviary....


Despite my best efforts to catch the cockatiel, he continued to fly about, tired, scared and starving until suddenly a sparrowhawk dived at him... A flurry of feathers and a scream from the cocktiel cut off mid scream and it was all over. I know its nature and all that but I feel as bad and as guilty as if it was one of my own birds that had escaped and been caught....
The text I recieved from MH apparently LJ the guy who gave me a ride on his motorbike a few months back and the guy she's been living with cornered her, threatened her and then gave her a "tap" on the face.
I dunno what that means. In MH speak it could be anything from a proper smack or him just raising a hand. Either way she got out, is staying at STF and N's and will not go back there and has even got onto citizens advice.
She wont reply to any of my texts, so I'm trying to get hold of STF to find out what happened. I hope she's ok...

Sunday, September 16, 2007

Two very exciting days at work lately!

One of our super posh and super expensive portraits - Turners rendition of The Battle of Trafalgar has gone on holidays! He's going on an american Tour.
Heading to the New York Metropolitian museum if thats anywhere near you Hydey? I may have remembered the name wrongly!
Anyway thats where it ends up in the Summer next year and I challenge you all to go admire the painting that i spent a good 7 hours looking at and deciding that there was a cartoon giant in it.
A lot of people hate that painting. Its all wrong you see, the Victory is wrong in the water it should be lower down than it is and some of the other details are wrong. But a lot of people like it and anytthing with a comedy giant in it, needs to be loved!
It was pretty exciting, I saw them take it down and sandwich it between filler and then seal it in a box and then i waved goodbye to it!

Today a staffy dog managed to get under the gates and go loopy in the courtyard, I reckon he came to stand on the Meridian line and get some one to take his photo, and then he came into my gallery, legs skittering about on the wooden floor and grinnin and waving his tail happily.
(In no way did I encourage him to enter my gallery - no. Thats wrong. Bad Charbs.)

I've also applied for a new job! As a penguin Keeper! That'd be dead cool, and as I reassured Welshy. I can easily take an egg when they lay them, incubate it at home and then raise him as my own pet penguin.
Which'd be fucking ace and the ultimate pet.

Saturday, September 08, 2007

I think I've found the answer to my money woes. Well at least something that'll help.

Daytime overtime

Oh yes. All I have to do is sign my name away on the weekly rota sheets and I too can give up my days off and come in and work. For time and a half. Which, going by my summertime-overtime pay slip, means I only have to give up two days a month to recieve the extra sum of a 114 quid in my account. More or less (remember my poor maths skills)

Which means I could work, 9 days a week before I get two days off to recover (I have a crazy work pattern, where I work 4 days, have a day off, work 4 days, get 2 days off. Work 4 days, get a day off, work three days, get a weekend off)

I figure thats a do-able sum, my works not exactly physically straining, but it is exhausting. I walk between 6 or 8 miles a day.

But! I am a tough little cookie. I mean I'm currently (due to a fucked up September rota pattern) two days into a 6 day work shift, before I get a day off, work 4 days, day off. Three days, two days off. Five Days, day off pattern.
I figure I can work 9 days in a row if i gave up one of my days off, easy. My mate told me he did 22 days in a row once. I figure if that weedy little shit can. I can do double that. Easy.

The only problem at the monent is my sleeping pattern. I've tried hard to get myself into a good pattern, however insommnia does like to bug me and I'm finding it hard to sleep and when I do sleep, its restless and uneasy, with lots of bad dreams that wake me throughout the night, I thrash about, I throw my duvet around. I wake up feeling as exhausted as if i've had a really late night.
My crazy sleeping might last for a month, sometimes it only happens two or three nights and then I wont see it again for months and I'll sleep a restful, peaceful sleep.
It's just knowing how long it'll last for. I'm already falling asleep for a nap as soon as I get home and I'm desperately tired now, but its pointless going to sleep, because. Simply put I'm scared of the panic attacks that come in the dark.
I hope they go soon, i'm so tired and I need some sleep if I'm to survive this 6 day thing and do these long week working patterns.
(Plus Welshy is coming for another hotel adventure on Wednesday and although he knows about my shitty sleeping, he's never had to endure it and I dont wanna beat him up in my sleep, or show myself up to be a girly-girl if the panic attacks come!)
Boo to sleep and hurrah for daytime-overtime and that extra hundred quid in my payslip!

Wednesday, September 05, 2007

sometimes my Mum goes mental on me. Everything thats wrong in her life gets dumped on me.
It sucks, but thats the way it goes, my bro notices it, even her mates on occasion has told her to get off my back.
I dont know why, maybe I'm just that kinda person.
She goes crazily irrational. She wants me next to her all the time, but yet was bitching today about me watching telly with her.
"You have your own room. Go and watch telly there."
And then it'll be back to
"I might as well go to bed, you're upstairs and I'm bored of being stuck down here alone."
Honestly how can you win against that kinda logic?
All it does is make me feel like the worst, most horrible ungrateful brat-daughter ever.
Today, nothing I did was right. Every comment I made was wrong.
How was I to know that in the 10 minutes between her leaving for work and me leaving, she wanted me to put a wash on, hoover, do the washing up and post a letter? I'm not a mind reader. If she wants me to do this, all she needs to do is ask. I dont have time in the morning for everything she asks, but I'd willingly do some of it, if it meant I can come home and not worry about what foul mood she's in cos I cant yet mind-read.
All I asked was if something had run out of date 6 days previous, if it was still edible, and I'm not being fussy about bread or frozen food or pasta or some such shit, but EGGS (not laid by my quail I hasten to add.)
"Stop being a goddamn baby and a fussy cow and just cook the damn things."
The she accused me of not taking any care of the birds outside, which is a loada balls as she well knows. I spend at least 15 quid a week on food, bedding and stuff to keep their little feathery brains active.
But asking her to pick up a 5kg sack of seed in her lunch break when she has a car and doesnt have to battle a 35 minute walk home with it is clearly a sign of me not caring.
I wanna do this scuba course, I explain how I need it for fish-type jobs. She agreed that its a good idea, even though it's 350 quid and although I made extra money (£900) this month, all I normally take home is 720 so it leaves a big dent in my finances.
Speculate to accumulate and all that bollocks right?
Anyway she decided I need to pay rent, fair enough. I lived rent free while working part time at the shop, and I feel bad about not paying my share.
"How about I give you a hundred quid a month?" This I felt is fair enough. I'll be left with 620 when I get my wage this month, and even with the 350 I need to pay for the scuba, I should just about be able to manage and have some money.
She agreed this sum with me, so its not like I made an unreasonable request or I'm being ungrateful.
Yesterday she hits me with the bombshell that she wants me to pay 150 a month, not an great deal extra, but it means I only have 400 to last me the month.
The Brat earns nearly 350 a month more than I do and pays 200 rent. How can that be my fault that I dont earn as much as him and suddenly I need to be grateful that she's not asked for the full 200?
And she's not finished there. I say I can write you a cheque. And suddenly thats about the worst thing I've ever suggested. Honestly she chucked some crazed mardy at me, accusing me of trying to get out of paying for it. That I shouldn't sign up for a pointless course thats expensive if I'm going to complain about giving her a little bit of money.
I refuse to walk the streets with all those notes in my wallet and again its with the: "And who's fault is it you refuse to do any more driving tests?"
Now she's gone to bed with the strop cos today was a bad day to suggest that she help me write a basic begging letter to an aquarium, hoping they employ me.
I loathe the museum, actually not as much as I loathed the shop, but I hate having nothing to do all day. I hate the fact that because of the crazy power balance in that place. I'm not allowed to do any overtime in order to get more money. That I get dumped in all the shit gallerys, by the other staff, who cross me off of the cushy numbers and put me in the daft places.
I hate the fact that as soon as I cross the door my brains starts to rot. I spend the day in a daze, broken only by my breaks and hometime.
I want to work with animals. I've wanted this my whole life. I did my degree to try and help me do that. I dont want to spend the next 30 years telling people not to take photos, or pointing them to the loo.
But apparently I should be grateful that I'm employed and stay there for at least a year before trying to find a job with no experience or no training that I'm actually qualified to do.
"Your problem is: You're never satisified. Why move on now?"
And people laugh when I tell them Welshy is a secret, that despite him wanting to meet her. She'll loathe him. She'll never get it. She'll use that as something else for her to go irrational about.

Its not just over-reacting is it? I know she's been through a lot. We all have. But why is it noticably me who seems to get used as her emotional punching bag?
I need to get out. And soon before I get stuck in a rut at the museum and living at home putting up with her good moods and trying to smile and tolerate her increasingly common bad ones.

Tuesday, September 04, 2007

I promised piccies of my new birdies and here they are!
This is one of my Rubino Rosellas. I was on a bit of a Harry Potter inspired naming session so they're called Tonks and Lupin, this one's Tonks and as far as I can tell is the female of the pair, and I can only guess at that cos she's smaller.
They're all dead pretty though, you can make out the pretty pearly yellowy white markings on the wings and tail.

Quentin the gay Quail died not long after I returned from NZ so I brought a new pair the same time I got the rosellas. This is Hedwig and the female of the pair. She's taken to laying eggs, pretty little pale green ones with darker green blotches.
Pigwidgeon is the same boring brown mottley colour of Quentin.
Hedwig is dead funny, she thinks she can fly like the big birds do and suddenly launches herself up into the space flapping her wings frantically and then crashes back down to earth. But she perseveres and one day I'm sure she'll get to sit on a perch like the other birds do!

Saturday, September 01, 2007

somehow my bosses at the museum, have seen fit to extend my contract from a temporary one, to a perminant one. This is cause for much yayness as I have been panicking about going back on the dole and also some minor depression. The idea was, by now I'd have found myself a decent job, degree related, be out of london and living somewhere. perferably with a pet rabbit. And with Welshy. I miss him too much being miles away in Wales.
But. On the good side I suppose at least this gives me a bit longer to find that perfect job and to save up some more money.
The saving of money is a bitch really. My wage is really poor there, and as I'm spending so much a month on staying in touch with Welshy or visiting i finish each month with no money. Which is a big deal for me! Since we were very poor when I was little I've had this fear of having no savings whatsoever and even when I was at uni or working part time in the shop, I was able to save away a little bit of money each month. Now I'm finishing each month as I start it, with a big fat ZERO in my account.
But. I guess at least I blow it all on worthwhile things!
I've also decided to take up a proper PADI scuba diving course, in an effort to improve my job prospects. Unfortunately. It takes away over a third of my wages but if it helps me get out of London I suppose it'll be worth it!
Now the only thing that's causing hassle is finding the right time to do it, I wanted to go on the course right away, but E wants to do it as well, but is too busy at work until October, which is a big Boo as I just got paid for all the 6pm overtime finishes i've done all summer long, so had the money to pay for the course and wanted to do it, now I have to put it aside and wait probably till october.

Anyway. Let me tell you about my exciting incident at work today.
A pretty Asian-looking American woman came up to me and asked about the noise she could hear.
"What noise?" I asked.
Anyway, she describes the sound of a wooden door opening and the sound of a lot of rushing wind and then a slamming.
which puzzled me as it sounds EXACTLY the same as the door that you open, that she's standing just to the side of. When you open it, you hear a wind tunnel and look at the workings of a turret clock and the door makes a slam when you shut it. I figure if a person is too dumb to work that out for themselves then you're allowed to take the piss.
Its like your civic duty or something.
So I put on this puzzled look and then a face of realisation and then mock horror and asked her to describe it again, all the time thinking rapidly.
"Oh my god! You know some people here have reported the same thing! My friend Su refuses to work in here! She says she can hear that noise all the time in here! You know this room is supposed to be haunted?"
The silly tart is believing all this so I start expanding my story.
"I mean, I dont believe a word of this, but she is convinced of it. The story goes, is that there was this local lass Annie. Who fell in love with one of the astronomers that worked here and pined over him all summer, and then when she finally managed to confess her love. He told her he was betroved to someone from the next Village, which was Charlton in those days. And it was all too much for Poor Annie and she raced to the top of the Tower and threw herself off of it. And the story goes that you can sometimes hear the slamming of the door as she opens it, the sound of her body falling and the thud as it hits the ground. But its only a story, you know. I dont believe in it, ghosts aint real."
And then someone chose to open the door again and I really thought she'd click then but she never. She just gazed at me all wide-eyed and believing but flinched as the door slammed shut.
She never even stopped to say goodbye but rushed out of my gallery so fast she left skid marks on the ground.

I felt evil, but I had a good chuckle at it!