- On Tuesday morning before ten (or Wednesday if you've left it a bit late), have a look in the mirror, then have a shave and a shower. Maybe put clothes on, over your pyjamas if need be
- Facebook and Twitter are not actual jobs, even if Stephen Fry makes the latter seem almost as if it could be, and even if the people you're chatting to are former or precariously current employees of Hardacre Subsidiaries
- Create a miniature version of your former workplace, dividing its various functions among the household, and make Fruitcake the cat chief executive, and marvel at the parallels that emerge
- Give yourself reasons to get out of the house - for example your partner suggests you go and get a vegetable while she gets on with some work
- If you go out to post some of your schemes for world domination (and also to get a little exercise, and a vegetable), remember to take the letters with you, particularly if you have already told yourself what kind of fool might forget
- If you see bicycle man quite by chance, as ever coming northwards up the A666 all hot and yellow, give him a wave and hope that it being just after lunch doesn't mean he's lost his job too
- Remember you can spend a whole morning waiting to see if there's a wren in the hedge, and you can spend all day making a curry out of the vegetable you got yesterday (cauliflower, aubergine, and pea and potato are the current top three)
- When you walk through the storm, hold your head up high, and don't be afraid of the dark - even if Liverpool FC are having a hard time
- Bear in mind that David Cameron's cabinet were born knowing precisely how it is we should be standing on our own two feet, and how to make damn sure that's what we do, and they were reminded of this fact all through their privileged education. This qualifies them absolutely to tell you what must be done in that oily patronising manner that is so effortlessly right in so many ways. So, try not to spend too much time listening to the news
- Bear in mind too that your former employers may be from a similar mould but as miniature versions
- Try to relax about money. One day there will be a knock at the door (or an email) from someone who was very impressed with one of the schemes for world domination that you had forgotten you had even posted
Showing posts with label football. Show all posts
Showing posts with label football. Show all posts
Thursday, 27 January 2011
How to survive redundancy and enjoy it
To start with, don't take my advice. You'll soon see what I mean.
Monday, 17 January 2011
the time and space train of our lives
I am a time traveller, like you. Our mode of time travel is a train called the present which goes in just one direction and, practically speaking, only stops once. All the same, I've been travelling this way for fifty-odd years, and right now you are in the same carriage. I don't know when you got on, but that's usually what happens; looking out of the window listening to your MP3 player of choice, you happen to turn your head and there in front of you is another passenger. You might talk, you might not. If you're unlucky the other person wants to talk about how precisely Liverpool managed a 2:2 draw with Everton, or about how David Cameron has no choice but to make the people of Britain hurt a lot. If you're lucky though, the passenger opposite is an experienced time traveller.
Now, I know you may be thinking it was just as well for Kenny Dalglish that Liverpool drew, but actually more interesting is just how long this train is. Also, all your living relatives are on board, if not in this carriage then in others behind or in front. Obviously all your dead ones have got off at their station, perhaps unexpectedly or even forcibly. Some people claim the dead can be contacted by mobile or on Skype, or something akin, but as you know, mobile coverage isn't great on Exmoor, so I suspect it's nonexistent in the Valley of Death, whatever Orange or the Archbishop of Canterbury may say. I'm afraid this means that my observations are more reliable than a ouija board - or indeed, dare I say it, than Holy Writ.
The other thing is just how fast this train goes. For instance, many passengers remember when this train was pulled by steam. Now we're burning the ghosts of primordial trees, which is much more advanced, but actually no faster. And if now doesn't feel particularly fast in any case, I'm reliably informed that it will come as a surprise when they announce your station. Another thing that happened only a moment ago was the IT and telecoms we mentioned earlier. You may already live your life entirely via Facebook and Twitter, but many of us are still texting 'are you coming good'' instead of 'are you coming home'. This is not surprising as only a short distance back down the track a phone was something attached to a wall in a building. You made it ring from a distance to see if anyone was going past. Sometimes you had to enter a box like the Tardis to do this. Unlike the Tardis (I assume) it smelt of wee, and as I discovered when I tried to sleep in one in the vicinity of Carmarthen, there were fleas. The only alternatives were to send a piece of paper you had written on, or to send a photocopy of some writing by phone to a printer the size of a breeze block. You needed a similar breeze block your end for this.
Advice? You want advice on travelling on the time and space train! OK, but I don't know any more than you do. I think it's a good idea to look out of the window a) to enjoy the landscape, b) so you have some idea of where you're going. At the same time it's well worth listening to your fellow passengers and befriending them as much as possible. But don't give people credit for knowing things you don't just because they have a big beard and/or funny clothes, or they're in the government. Other than that, I suppose it's eat plenty of fruit and veg and climb trees or go skate-boarding or play football or somesuch, where possible. Another very important thing is right there in the MP3 player of your choice, or on the fold-down table in front of you: music, books, art. Oh, and flowers and birds and stuff. You may also find, sooner or later in the journey, that you have to invest in haemorrhoid cream.
As for what powers it all, now you're really asking. I don't really know, but I suspect it may be music. Next we'll be into 'What happens when the driver gets to their own station?' and 'Are we going to make our connection?' Again, I don't know. But what about you? Would you agree that Led Zepplin are the finest rock band there has ever been?
Now, I know you may be thinking it was just as well for Kenny Dalglish that Liverpool drew, but actually more interesting is just how long this train is. Also, all your living relatives are on board, if not in this carriage then in others behind or in front. Obviously all your dead ones have got off at their station, perhaps unexpectedly or even forcibly. Some people claim the dead can be contacted by mobile or on Skype, or something akin, but as you know, mobile coverage isn't great on Exmoor, so I suspect it's nonexistent in the Valley of Death, whatever Orange or the Archbishop of Canterbury may say. I'm afraid this means that my observations are more reliable than a ouija board - or indeed, dare I say it, than Holy Writ.
The other thing is just how fast this train goes. For instance, many passengers remember when this train was pulled by steam. Now we're burning the ghosts of primordial trees, which is much more advanced, but actually no faster. And if now doesn't feel particularly fast in any case, I'm reliably informed that it will come as a surprise when they announce your station. Another thing that happened only a moment ago was the IT and telecoms we mentioned earlier. You may already live your life entirely via Facebook and Twitter, but many of us are still texting 'are you coming good'' instead of 'are you coming home'. This is not surprising as only a short distance back down the track a phone was something attached to a wall in a building. You made it ring from a distance to see if anyone was going past. Sometimes you had to enter a box like the Tardis to do this. Unlike the Tardis (I assume) it smelt of wee, and as I discovered when I tried to sleep in one in the vicinity of Carmarthen, there were fleas. The only alternatives were to send a piece of paper you had written on, or to send a photocopy of some writing by phone to a printer the size of a breeze block. You needed a similar breeze block your end for this.
Advice? You want advice on travelling on the time and space train! OK, but I don't know any more than you do. I think it's a good idea to look out of the window a) to enjoy the landscape, b) so you have some idea of where you're going. At the same time it's well worth listening to your fellow passengers and befriending them as much as possible. But don't give people credit for knowing things you don't just because they have a big beard and/or funny clothes, or they're in the government. Other than that, I suppose it's eat plenty of fruit and veg and climb trees or go skate-boarding or play football or somesuch, where possible. Another very important thing is right there in the MP3 player of your choice, or on the fold-down table in front of you: music, books, art. Oh, and flowers and birds and stuff. You may also find, sooner or later in the journey, that you have to invest in haemorrhoid cream.
As for what powers it all, now you're really asking. I don't really know, but I suspect it may be music. Next we'll be into 'What happens when the driver gets to their own station?' and 'Are we going to make our connection?' Again, I don't know. But what about you? Would you agree that Led Zepplin are the finest rock band there has ever been?
Friday, 3 December 2010
Sepp Blatter unites England, Fruitcake sick
FIFA's president Sepp Blatter has temporarily united England (not to be confused with the Kingdom) across the political divides. He and his organisation's apparent intense dislike of us is possibly because our own Football Association had a half-hearted go at getting him out of his post, and possibly also because we have an irritatingly free press, some of whom have alleged that FIFA is a corrupt gerontocracy. So, Russia get the 2018 World Cup (the Wikileak stuff about mafia being obviously wrong then), and Qatar - a nation composed of sand - get 2022. Anyway, time to move on. Mostly. Those dates feel like science fiction anyway. Maybe aliens have taken control of FIFA. But, moving on.
More important to Fruitcake Miniature College is the news that Fruitcake, our cat and Principal, is poorly. A couple of days ago the Head of Animal Care and the teaching staff noticed that his usual combination of greed and fussiness (a common trait in the powerful) had gone to another level, and his bulletins were becoming urgent. We found ourselves on our knees hand-feeding him morsels of tuna, slivers of grilled herring, and special crunchy things with magical properties.
Drinking has been similarly complicated (and almost humiliating). Because of a period of vagrancy in our Principal's rise to the top, he still drinks outside, and only water at a particular level of standing greenness. This is tricky when everything is frozen, so ice lids have been removed by hand, snow collected and brought indoors in a pudding bowl, and the like. Consequently Fruitcake's private eating quarters now resemble a tapas bar.
Luckily if unusually, this particular senior education manager counts among his lady friends a very brainy person, who has a degree in getting medicine into cats. And yesterday, the H of AC whisked him yodelling off in the car to see her. He came back high as a kite on the fruits of his private medical package. Steroids were certainly in the mixture, as was an anti-depressant. To the relief of the whole college, today he has eaten entirely unaided, albeit modestly, and we've upped his intake of De-fur-ums (I know, I know).
Against this background of a management crisis, too much talk about football, and sub-arctic conditions, the teaching staff have ploughed on as normal with lessons. But then, what's new? You might say that life is too short, too busy, too underfunded - and at the moment too cold - to spend time feeding titbits to a noisy, demanding, and uncommunicative tyrant. If such practices were endemic in, say, international trade, world sport, or geo-politics (you might ask) where would we be? But, you see, the sad truth is that Fruitcake Miniature College is a corrupt gerontocracy. So we will leave you with this football inspired entry for the Fruitcake Malaprop Competition: sick as a cat.
More important to Fruitcake Miniature College is the news that Fruitcake, our cat and Principal, is poorly. A couple of days ago the Head of Animal Care and the teaching staff noticed that his usual combination of greed and fussiness (a common trait in the powerful) had gone to another level, and his bulletins were becoming urgent. We found ourselves on our knees hand-feeding him morsels of tuna, slivers of grilled herring, and special crunchy things with magical properties.
Drinking has been similarly complicated (and almost humiliating). Because of a period of vagrancy in our Principal's rise to the top, he still drinks outside, and only water at a particular level of standing greenness. This is tricky when everything is frozen, so ice lids have been removed by hand, snow collected and brought indoors in a pudding bowl, and the like. Consequently Fruitcake's private eating quarters now resemble a tapas bar.
Luckily if unusually, this particular senior education manager counts among his lady friends a very brainy person, who has a degree in getting medicine into cats. And yesterday, the H of AC whisked him yodelling off in the car to see her. He came back high as a kite on the fruits of his private medical package. Steroids were certainly in the mixture, as was an anti-depressant. To the relief of the whole college, today he has eaten entirely unaided, albeit modestly, and we've upped his intake of De-fur-ums (I know, I know).
Against this background of a management crisis, too much talk about football, and sub-arctic conditions, the teaching staff have ploughed on as normal with lessons. But then, what's new? You might say that life is too short, too busy, too underfunded - and at the moment too cold - to spend time feeding titbits to a noisy, demanding, and uncommunicative tyrant. If such practices were endemic in, say, international trade, world sport, or geo-politics (you might ask) where would we be? But, you see, the sad truth is that Fruitcake Miniature College is a corrupt gerontocracy. So we will leave you with this football inspired entry for the Fruitcake Malaprop Competition: sick as a cat.
Wednesday, 1 December 2010
Wikileaks Wikiweeps
What is the FMC position on BBC allegations of corruption made against FIFA's vice-presidents just as we're bidding to host the 2018 World Cup? This bid, by the way, having produced a 'dream' team of Prince Charming, Beckers, and someone the Governor of the Bank of England says is 'inexperienced' - our PM, according to Wikileaks. And where do we stand on the Wikileaks question? Do we say the truth was always inconvenient, and that exposing corruption and wrong-doing should not wait, or do we say embarrassing diplomats and their governments is one thing, but endangering British soldiers' lives is another? As Pakistan's Ambassador to the UK might say, it's a can of words.
One place to stand with respect to leaks is alongside Pete the boiler man. Faithful readers of these electric paragraphs will remember him from sometime in August or September. This morning I was clearing a path for Pete to get at the boiler, which is losing pressure at an awkward time, while listening to the BBC's Today programme. The Pakistani Ambassador was reassuring us that his government was well able to keep nuclear material out of terrorist hands. Pressed to explain fears to the contrary raised by Wikileaks, he rumbled in reply, rather wonderfully, that "You can make a whole mountain out of a mole." Well, here at Fruitcake Miniature College we certainly intend to try.
So I can now announce the grand Fruitcake Malaprop Competion. There will be two sections: one for idioms and proverbs (that is to say for malapropisms proper), and the other for redundant copy on packaging and the like (such as packets of nuts that may contain nuts). Submissions for the first section may be invented but authentic usage will obviously score over smartypantsness. Submissions for the second section will need to be genuine. Here a few examples to start you off:
Idioms and proverbs
*You can take a horse to Waterstones ...
* Many slip a Twix between cup and lip.
* Not enough room to swing a dog (with thanks to Fruitcake the cat)
* There's more than one way to skin a dog, or a fox for that matter (thanks, that's plenty)
Nuts nuts
* This product contains magnets (label on Dracula fridge magnet adorning FMC boiler)
* Solutions Solutions (company offering help with crosswords )
* This boiler contains nuts (OK, I made the last two up)
Anyway, Pete says the problem is basically a crap boiler installed by British Gas on one of their special deals, and there are one or two 'weeps', which are very slight, possibly undetectable leaks (you can see where this is going) causing a drop in pressure. He tightened some nuts, showed us how to boost the pressure if need be, finished his tea, and didn't charge. Leaders of the world, learn from this plumber.
One place to stand with respect to leaks is alongside Pete the boiler man. Faithful readers of these electric paragraphs will remember him from sometime in August or September. This morning I was clearing a path for Pete to get at the boiler, which is losing pressure at an awkward time, while listening to the BBC's Today programme. The Pakistani Ambassador was reassuring us that his government was well able to keep nuclear material out of terrorist hands. Pressed to explain fears to the contrary raised by Wikileaks, he rumbled in reply, rather wonderfully, that "You can make a whole mountain out of a mole." Well, here at Fruitcake Miniature College we certainly intend to try.
So I can now announce the grand Fruitcake Malaprop Competion. There will be two sections: one for idioms and proverbs (that is to say for malapropisms proper), and the other for redundant copy on packaging and the like (such as packets of nuts that may contain nuts). Submissions for the first section may be invented but authentic usage will obviously score over smartypantsness. Submissions for the second section will need to be genuine. Here a few examples to start you off:
Idioms and proverbs
*You can take a horse to Waterstones ...
* Many slip a Twix between cup and lip.
* Not enough room to swing a dog (with thanks to Fruitcake the cat)
* There's more than one way to skin a dog, or a fox for that matter (thanks, that's plenty)
Nuts nuts
* This product contains magnets (label on Dracula fridge magnet adorning FMC boiler)
* Solutions Solutions (company offering help with crosswords )
* This boiler contains nuts (OK, I made the last two up)
Anyway, Pete says the problem is basically a crap boiler installed by British Gas on one of their special deals, and there are one or two 'weeps', which are very slight, possibly undetectable leaks (you can see where this is going) causing a drop in pressure. He tightened some nuts, showed us how to boost the pressure if need be, finished his tea, and didn't charge. Leaders of the world, learn from this plumber.
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