15 mins – had a thought

white bubble illustration

Driving to work this morning, navigating my way around more roundabouts than should be legally built in one city, I had a thought.

My mood lifted, my grin grew.

brown short coated dog on white background
Photo by Emily Hopper on Pexels.com

Yes. Finally. Something to blog about. Something fun. Indeed, the kick up the backside needed to sit me at the keyboard again. Quickly the entire blog was mapped out in my mind. A little humour here, a little nonsense there, a little sharing of me. Perfect in every way. What was that? Did you mention modesty?

Several roundabouts later and quickly heading into the building, my plan was to ignore my normal daily tasks and, cheekily, whack out an email to myself, of said blog, for copy and paste and publish later on. Who would question my furious taping at the keyboard? Not a sausage.

two sausages on charcoal grill
Photo by Mateusz Dach on Pexels.com

What could go wrong?

cropped-cropped-party-ucs2.jpg

Palm to forehead. I bloody well forgot it all. No hints, no a-ha moments. Nothing,

Note to self: Numpty!

 

 

Purpose of this blog. No purpose. Only a place to write for 15 minutes. Thank you so much for dopping by

15 minutes – hovering above the loo seat

Photo credit: HERE Piqsels

Cutting straight to it, there is nothing that makes my skin recoil more than sitting on a wet toilet seat, at work! Or anywhere for that matter. Oh man, just gross. And exactly what happened to me this past week. Ideally not something to share, but there you go, it’s been shared.

Having wiped and gagged and vacated the cubicle, I was immediately taken back to being probably no more than a toddler or just older. Out with my Nan shopping or something, desperate for the loo – on that note, as this seems to be all about sharing, my bladder has always been about the size of a postage stamp with the loo being a close friend. So, out with my Nan, me needing a wee-stop, into the public loo we went and having surveyed the facilities and deeming them OK to use, Nan instructed me to not sit down, but rather hover over the seat.

Really! How on earth does one hover over the toilet? Levitate? Throw my legs up and have Nan hold me under the armpits while hoping of all hope the toilet is under me? However it was or happened, I don’t recall wet feet or hem of dress so one can only assume it was a successful visit.

Actually, the more I think about stupidy and the loo, I can also remember trying to hover over the loo, only as a much older person – likely a teenager. At least at that stage, there was no need for somebody to hold me under the arms to navigate position.  No, on those occasions – because as established I could never wait until reaching home – the routine was to hoick up clothing and attempt a balancing act that required pretty darn good core strength while keeping skin from the seat.

I think that’s enough about the loo for today, and indeed forever

 

 

 

15 minutes with a Pirate colleague

There’s long been a suspicion in the household of how the Hubster doesn’t really pay as much attention to me as perhaps he should do. Case in point was this past week.

“Hey, Hubster,” I said, my phone roughly three inches from his nose. “Look at this photo of where I was today.”

He’s always keen to hear about my day at work, and as that particular day had taken us to play Pirate Crazy Golf, part of a team-building/getting-to-know-you/building-relationships day with colleagues, it was sure to be a better conversation than the normal one along the lines of.

Hubster. “How was your day?”

Me. “Same old, same old. This one did this, that one did that, I got lost in the warehouse again, lunch was yet another baked potato with tuna, blah, blah, blah, I came home.”

Hubster. “Right. Coffee or tea?” – a euphemism for, well that was bloody boring, let’s move on.

So back to the phone, settled inches from his nose, displaying a superb digital image that with all likeliness will never be seen again.

“Oh,” the Hubster, says, completely genuinely, no jokes, no nothing. “He looks a bit stiff, is that one of your colleagues?”

“WHAT?” I said – phone dropped to my lap, chin on chest, eyes wider than a 10lt casserole dish. “Are you serious? How can that be a colleague?”

Take a look, let me know what you think.

20190726_120416

This blog has no theme other than to allow me 15 minutes to put a blog together. Thank you for visiting

15 minutes and forgetting my password and a pair of flared jeans on the Bee

So here’s the thing. After signing up for an online course that will increase my knowledge, career prospects and challenge me muchly, without denting the old pocket – it be a free one, I’ve forgotten the password! Now, some would say not to worry, there be a link for forgotten passwords, it does cross my mind that perhaps it means I’m not as excited about this course as I should be.

 

1970

photo from: eBay – pattern just in case you fancy running up a pair this weekend

Onto better things. The Great British Sewing Bee tonight is back to the 1970s and tasked the sewers with a good old pair of flared trousers. The hubster, in all seriousness, tells me he was pretty fond of his flares. GASP, would have liked to see him in those, and not being the tallest bloke on the street, I can imagine they flapped around a pair of platform shoes!

And now they are pogo-ing! Hilarious, poor old Esme almost got wiped out by Patrick

giphy

Gif borrowed from HERE

 

 

If you came across this blog, it’s here for me to write for 15 minutes without worry about too much. Thank you for visiting

 

15 minutes without my Valentine

stone artwork

Flipping heck, in the 25 years of being together, the hubster and I have never, and I mean never missed spending Valentines together. Not that we go all out mushy or anything, we just share a nice meal and enjoy being together. This bloody year though, I will be working on Valentines night. The graveyard shift 2.30pm – 10.30pm. WHAT! And I mean WHAT! the flaming heck am I going to do, eating my leftovers from a plastic container in the company dining room, amongst many, and I mean many other folk who are no doubt lovely, but not who I want to be with.

I look at the hubster now, snoozing at my side, in front of the TV and feel positive the same will occur tomorrow, with or without me here. But you know what, I don’t give a flying hoot, because I’d rather be next to my man, snoozing and snoring his way through Valentines, than sitting in front of a computer screen and eating leftover risotto any day.

Groaning and moaning and feeling sorry for myself over.

Happy Valentines good people

#Valentine #Valentines #Hubster

 

If you have come across my blog, welcome. It’s here for me to type for 15 minutes and then post. No great theme to the blog, other than keeping me writing

 

 

 

 

 

 

15 minutes when (x+e)=Z(Good)

healthy vegetables hand gardening
Photo by Skitterphoto on Pexels.com

So here’s the thing, the appraisal is done, results are in, breathe for another year. You’d think after doing this process for more years than it seems good to admit too, they would be old hat and done and dusted without much thought. But no, each year the demand is greater to list all you have done, to sell yourself like a piece of prime beef, or for the veggies amongst us, the largest radish in the patch. To ask your colleagues for feedback on yourself, to deliver it all, including what you want to achieve in the next 12 months, before waiting for your manager to agree, discuss, disagree and finally after leaving a sufficient waiting time of about week, you receive the final report, with a rating that determines potential pay increases.

There are 5 ratings to be given for multiple behaviours/skills/ability, call it as you will. Me, well my rating came in as GOOD for them all. Sounds wonderful however GOOD is number 3, basically the average. Not quite sure how I really feel about it, because GOOD sounds OK, Average provokes much inwardly groaning.

Hey-ho, so it goes.

 

 

If you’ve stumbled across my blog, it’s here for me to write for 15 minutes and then post

Hope you’re having a good day

15 minutes with Radio 2, getting older and the Wombles

Today at work my younger colleague kindly changed her normal radio channel to Radio 2.  The pair of us have been on the early shift this week starting at 6am. And after her morning coffee and my cup of hot water, we settle down and colleague streams her fav channel. The music is pretty much as expected, loud, good beat, sometimes a load of noise and meaningless, sometimes great, but whatever it is, it keeps you going and often I hear myself singing and humming along.  Anyway, a day or so ago, my colleague asked me which channel I listen to. Radio 2, I said. Today then, through no prompting or complaining from me, she streams my channel.

“That’s kind, and thank you very much,” I said. Very touched she would do this.

“I like old music too,” she said.

I laughed good and hard at being advised of my age and said she must change back whenever she wanted. We lasted, probably, about half an hour until the Wombles song came on, at which point she reached for her mouse and said it was time to change.

Can’t say I blame her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fifteen minutes – day trip with the colleagues

DSCF4304

Odney – photo –  mine

Funny how the idea of a work road trip brings up such mixed emotions. Elation at a day out and leaving the desk, and familiar mouse to gather a few hours of dust. Panic – shit, who will I sit with on the bus? I don’t know them all that well. I’m not a great small talker, will I by virtue be bored shitless? Clothes, can we ditch the uniform for civies? How joyous to not wear my Business Dress shirt that likens me to a member of a local ten-pin bowling team. As in too big, in need of darts all over, and how can I forget the official shade of blue.

As it was the bus was OK. All official with its logo. Instructions to buckle up before we drive off, and even stronger instruction for no moonies on the motorway – jeepers who do I work with?! Everybody took up position, rabble in the back, graduating to the quieter ones and our leader up front with the driver.

We were off to the company Heritage Site, about an hour and a half away. Our leader having been there before, relayed how deciding to not leave her doggie at home, booked her into a local doggie day-care – at great expense. Lovely dog was provided with paw massages and facial, and our leader was provided throughout the day photo updates to her mobile of lovely doggie running freely amongst fields and orchards.

DSCF4306

Heritage site – photo mine

Along the road, newly married and about to be married colleagues shared how they were/would be ovulating during respective Honeymoons completely unaware of how their voices were travelling across the bus.  Needless to say, much laughter and blushes when I turned back and said, “Thanks for sharing, Ladies.”

“Members Only,” the signage said at this beautiful place we arrived at.

Heritage site, though small, holds a wealth of information along with an extensive fabric library, items conserved in various methods, physical and digital.  And if you were looking for bedtime reading, they have copies of the company magazine that’s been going for over 100 years and is the longest running in-house magazine – I stand corrected but think our lovely Archivist said in the world.

DSCF4302

Like a little boat trip – photo mine

As you enter there is a memory of the Oxford Street branch, bombed during WW11 – a small tin mangled, chared, with coins melted to the bottom. Very poignant.

We saw print blocks used for fabrics. An example piece called Tree of Life is on the wall. This beauty required over 300 blocks to produce and needed well over 3 years to complete. As you can expect these were pricey items, not for the regular man in the street. Jeepers one of the blocks I could hold was so heavy. Apparently, the printers knew exactly which block to use in sequence. Any mistakes, well the fabric was discarded at huge cost.

The entire place, not only the Heritage Site, for it is on a private members only estate, is idyllic. There are walks along the Thames, footbridges to take you across to further lush and extensive grounds, rowing boats available, accommodation, spa, the lot. You can even take your dog, and indeed we saw a furry friend swimming in the Thames, the ducks oblivious.

Back to the Heritage site, our Archivist – Hannah – was wonderful, sharing great snippets of company founder’s links to the Zoological Society and how after taking on a pair of gibbons to assist with breeding, founder managed to create quite an upset with his local villagers.  Apparently while he believed gibbons do not swim, he’d overlooked how they do wade, and in fact did so, deciding to take a pleasant stroll through the village.

We also saw some items pertaining to Queen Victoria, one being a rather solemn black, bejewelled funeral bonnet. The other was far more romantic. When she was sent a fabric print to agree to for Balmoral, Vicky added the silhouette of herself gazing across the printed forget-me-nots towards a silhouette of Albert. When the example was returned, these were incorporated into the print run, and yes, there they were, feint, but there.

We left in glorious sunshine, all keen to return. Let’s hope we do.

DSCF4310

Time to say farewell – photo mine

 

 

 

Might have cheated here a bit, this was written on the bus and needed a bit more than 15 minutes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fifteen minutes – day off, reading a book written in the 80s, peep-hole coffee and sippy-cups

Funny when you read a book that was written in the 80s. Funny because even when the plot is crime, the old DCI never reverts to social media, mobile phones or carries a coffee in a disposable cup to slurp during moments of deep thought or general out for a walk.

And yet the crime is solved, life was not splattered over the globe and coffee was enjoyed from a reusable mug, namely a chunky china/porcelain or other washable substance, while sitting at home or at a desk.

I know I’ve pondered this before, but what is it with carrying coffee around? I don’t get the enjoyment of slurping my frothy drink through a peephole in a plastic lid? Actually, just thought how it reminds me of reverting back to toddler-hood and using a sippy-cup!

 

Day off today. Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful. What to do? Well, lunch with my mate, which is going to be great, because she makes me laugh and has shown me how to communicate far my easily when things are not quite right at work. Never easy to do that. The approach being, go in positive, say what needs to be said, and have a solution to offer. Sure, things may not be sorted exactly, however, they have been aired and bedded in the mind of the person who was made to listen.  And more importantly, there will be no or at least limited internal festering within my gut.

 

 

 

Purpose of this blog should you have fallen upon it:

Having fallen out of love with writing, yet deep down really wanting to, decided the best way was to write whatever comes to mind in 15 mins and then stop

 

fifteen minutes before I leave for work

30th July 2018 – it be Monday

Writers Block – write anything, just write you dummy

That’s all I have, fifteen minutes to put something down on this blank page. No idea where to start. No idea what to say. How about I think about what work is going to be?

Hmmm, well, it’s a 2pm-10pm shift. Quite a change for me. And that’s an office position too. I never really associated late shifts with office work before. Have you? Office hours have always been 8-4 or 9-5. Where is Dolly Parton when I need her.

9_to_5_moviep

If my mind is correct we have an outdoor meeting between 2 and 3.  Up the road at a pondy sort of place. Is pondy even a word? Who knows, leaving me only to hope the context is correct for this blog.  Of course, the weather is not playing along, after endless and long days of heat and blue sky, so today we return to grey, damp and blegh. Reason for the meeting? Colleague leaving tomorrow. She’s fluent in French, going to Uni in France to study Spanish. Go figure!

Do you know I actively save every kind of flying creature and, crawling ones too? Flies the lot. Shew them out through doors and windows, urging them to “come along, out you go.” Hubster smiles and rolls his eyes, and will take over shewing if I’m dashing out the door.

Ok, that’s it. 15 minutes almost up.

Just enough time to add tags and categories and publish. Feeling content I’ve done it.

One last thing. Not sure who the killer will be on Unforgotten. Loads of red herrings there.